The Secret Hangman pd-9

by Peter Lovesey

  She drew in a sharp breath. ‘That’s going to be difficult when I think of what he did to Delia.’

  ‘Try, please. I didn’t meet him — in life, that is.’

  ‘I can find a photo if you want. Give me a moment. I know where to put my hands on it.’ She returned indoors.

  He clicked off the recorder.

  He was happy to wait. A picture of Geaves would be a real help. He watched car windscreens catching the sunlight as the traffic crossed the town bridge way below.

  ‘It was taken at some nightclub. Not very good of Delia, bless her,’ she said when she came back and handed him the picture, ‘but that’s him to a T. Hardly ever smiled, even for a photo.’

  No question, Danny Geaves had a sour-faced look. He was at a table beside Delia, self-absorbed. She had leaned in towards him for the photo, but he appeared oblivious of her, elbows on the table, his hands tucked under his chin.

  ‘Can I keep it?’

  ‘By all means.’

  ‘This is helpful. We haven’t found anyone else who knew him.’ He pressed record.

  ‘That I can understand. He wasn’t the sort to have many friends.’ She directed her gaze across the town towards the blurred grey line of Westbury Down. ‘I wouldn’t say he was unfriendly. Just a quiet man, harmless, I thought at the time. Delia liked him well enough at the beginning, and they seemed suited to each other. She was more outgoing and made up for his shyness, or whatever it was. But he had qualities she lacked. He was steady. That’s an old-fashioned virtue in a man, but my headstrong daughter needed someone to be a calming influence. She was excitable, you know, apt to do spur-of-the-moment things. Danny was… methodical.’

  She made the word sound menacing. A picture crept into Diamond’s mind of the methodical Danny tying his strangled lover to the swing in the park.

  ‘To be fair, he did most of the parenting,’ Amanda went on. ‘He made sure those girls were up in time and fed and ready for school. I’ve seen him combing their hair while my daughter, bless her, was sleeping on, or pampering herself in the bathroom.’

  ‘Was there any resentment?’

  ‘On Danny’s part? I never noticed any.’

  ‘Arguments?’

  ‘No more than normal. She’d have told me if he was unkind to her, or violent.’

  ‘So what went wrong? Why did they split up?’

  In a reflex gesture she pressed two fingers to her lips and then withdrew them and exhaled. An ex-smoker feeling some tension, Diamond decided.

  He waited.

  When the answer came it was no help.’Who can tell what goes wrong in a relationship except the people involved? I made a point of not interfering.’

  ‘She didn’t confide in you?’

  ‘We’d speak, mother and daughter, but not about him. It’s not as if he was hitting her, or something.’

  ‘You’re certain of that?’

  ‘She’d have told me.’

  ‘There’s such a thing as mental cruelty.’

  ‘She dumped him for another man, didn’t she? That’s what did for her in the end.’

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘She went through a bad patch, needed lifting emotionally, and Danny didn’t see it, or was too busy to notice. He was doing all the caring for the girls, and she’ — Amanda sighed — ‘she had time to look around. She met Ashley, and then the writing was on the wall so far as their relationship was concerned.’

  ‘Ashley had a more glamorous lifestyle?’

  ‘The grass is always greener.’

  ‘Danny took it hard, did he?’

  ‘Difficult to tell. As I said, he was so much quieter than Delia.

  You couldn’t tell what he was thinking. I can see it must have hurt him more than any of us realised.’

  ‘There was no outburst at the time?’

  ‘I wasn’t with them, so I don’t know for certain, but from what I knew of Danny he wasn’t capable of an outburst over anything. All his upsets were internalised. Seeing what happened, I can imagine that the hurt went deep. He must have brooded on it until it became an obsession. You can criticise people like Delia for letting their emotions run riot, but the quiet ones are the dangerous ones.’

  ‘He seems to have cut himself off from the family after the parting.’

  ‘Yes. I used to ask about him and she never had any news.’

  ‘Even if he was angry with Delia, you’d think he’d want to stay in touch with his children.’

  ‘Which is what I said to her more than once. She would just shrug and say he was welcome to spend time with them if he asked.’

  ‘So this wasn’t a case of a father denied access?’

  ‘Absolutely not.’

  Diamond watched a crow glide in the breeze above the weathercock on the spire of Holy Trinity. ‘Did you ever meet any of Danny’s family?’

  Amanda shook her head. ‘It’s not as if there was a wedding. That’s when you meet the other parents, isn’t it?’

  ‘Did she speak about his background ever?’

  ‘I think he was from East Anglia originally. He went to college and got a good qualification. I couldn’t tell you if it was a degree, but it was in zoology or something similar. He knew all about animals and birds.’

  ‘Was that his job — working with animals?’

  ‘Not directly, anyway. He spent a lot of time at home, on the computer, which was why he was always there for the children. But if you went for a walk with him he was very knowledgeable about the countryside.’

  ‘Was he interested in bats?’

  ‘What, flying bats?’

  What else did she think he was asking about — cricket bats?

  ‘He was, now you mention it. He’d go for a late-night stroll and Delia would tell me he was looking for bats.’

  Diamond wished Halliwell had been there to hear this.

  Amanda went on, ‘They give me the creeps and I’m sure Delia didn’t like them. He was self-employed, he did tell me that. It didn’t bring in a fortune, but they lived within their means, and Delia was earning as well.’

  ‘As a waitress?’

  ‘Yes. In those days she wasn’t at Tosi’s. She worked at several places, hotels mostly.’

  ‘The Hilton?’ he said, sensing a possible link.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Getting back to Danny and his quiet ways, did you ever get the impression that he might be depressed, or even suicidal?’

  ‘Never. He was quiet, yes, but never depressed while I knew him.’

  ‘Mentally stable, then?’

  ‘I would say so.’

  He was silent again for a while, thinking over what she’d told him. ‘It seems to me that your daughter picked two men quite similar in some ways. They both did more than their share in looking after the children, getting them up, off to school and so on.’

  ‘“More than their share”?’she said. ‘You’d better get up with the times, Mr Diamond, if you don’t mind me saying so. That generation of men share the household duties and take it as normal.’

  ‘Not all of them,’ he said. ‘Another thing both her boyfriends had in common was that their work took up so much time that Delia felt neglected. She was a friendly, outgoing young woman.’

  ‘Anybody’s,’ Amanda said. ‘You can speak frankly. I knew my own daughter. It’s in the genes. I was no saint when I was her age.’

  ‘And she didn’t realise how deeply Danny was hurting.’

  She took in a sharp, angry breath. ‘Being hurt is one thing. It didn’t entitle him to kill her.’

  ‘Nothing justified that.’

  His firm response encouraged her. ‘And the fact that he killed himself later doesn’t make him any less evil.’

  ‘I understand you, ma’am,’ he said, ‘but I’m trying to keep an open mind until I’m one hundred per cent certain Danny was the killer.’

  She turned to look at him, frowning. ‘Is there any doubt?’

  ‘My job is to make cert
ain.’

  ‘Why else would he have killed himself?’

  ‘That’s what I have to explore. Sadly it happens often, a deeply disturbed man killing his partner and sometimes their children as well and then topping himself. It’s such a familiar pattern that it’s easy to assume this is what happened here. I can’t do that. I have to try and find evidence.’

  ‘You can’t know what was in Danny’s mind,’ she said.

  ‘He could have spoken to someone, or written it down in a diary or a suicide note. Nothing has turned up yet, but I have to investigate.’

  ‘And if you find nothing?’

  ‘Then we report to the coroner and the court decides.’

  The door behind him made a sound and a child’s face appeared round it at the level of the handle. ‘Gran, we’re bored. Can we see The Invincibles?’ She was dark, with large blue eyes.

  Amanda was on her feet. ‘In a minute, dear.’

  The face was gone.

  ‘I was about to go, anyway,’ Diamond said. ‘You’ve helped a lot.’

  ‘That’s the six-year-old, Sophie,’ Amanda said, and there was a note of pride. ‘I expect her big sister pushed her forward. Could you see her mother in her features?’

  He wasn’t going to remind her that his only sight of Delia was after she’d been dead a few hours. ‘I think she takes after you.’

  ‘What — outspoken?’

  ‘No. Up with the times.’

  On the drive back to Bath he weighed what he had heard about Danny Geaves: caring, quiet, supportive, a far cry from Corcoran’s version of the jerk who’d never shown any interest. But then you couldn’t expect Corcoran to give a glowing testimonial to the ex-lover. On the other hand, it was disputed by no one that Danny had ceased to take an interest in his daughters after Delia left him. That suggested callousness rather than caring. Perhaps the truth lay somewhere between.

  13

  T hat evening he drove up the steep rise of Lyncombe Hill to where Paloma lived. He’d always thought of Lyncombe Vale as aloof from Bath, once promoted as a spa in rivalry to the city amenities, with a public house and pleasure garden grandiosely called King James’s Palace. A local legend persisted that King James II went into hiding in Lyncombe after abdicating in 1688, but the royal connection didn’t bear examination. Even so, in the jargon of estate agents, Lyncombe was still a sought-after residential area.

  He saw at once that Paloma had a house better described as dreamed-of than sought-after, a three-storey building with a fine Georgian front and a cobbled drive in a large circle around well-kept lawns. Paloma’s silver Porsche was in front of the house and so was a blue Nissan Pathfinder. With a sudden dip in confidence he wondered if this evening would turn out to be a dinner party. She’d surprised him once before.

  After ringing the doorbell he had a moment of near panic when he heard her say, ‘That’ll be Peter. I’ll get it.’ Visions of other guests in suits and long dresses. He’d gone for the casual look: short sleeves and light-coloured trousers.

  There wasn’t time to cut and run. She was opening the door.

  She did look dressy, in a black creation trimmed with pink chiffon. But her smile made him feel she’d dressed for him alone.

  He handed her a bottle of red wine, a good one, they’d said at the off-licence. ‘Just in case you’re not into light American beer,’ he said.

  ‘Come in and meet Jerry,’ she said and added in a whisper, ‘He’s on his way out.’

  So that was who she’d been talking to. Jerry was the son, he remembered. The personal trainer. He was standing in the room to the right, dark, with designer stubble. He was in faded jeans and a T-shirt. He had blue eyes like his mother and the same set of dimples when he smiled.

  Diamond said, ‘How are you?’ and Jerry said, ‘Hi,’ and gripped his hand with a force that spoke of the hours in the gym.

  Paloma said, ‘Jerry dropped in some shopping for me. He’s on his way to hospital.’

  What can you say to that? Nothing. But you might be thinking that fit people who pushed themselves physically and got injuries shouldn’t be using the National Health Service.

  ‘He’s a volunteer,’ Paloma added, and Diamond took back the thought and felt mean.

  ‘Driving patients around?’

  ‘Nothing so useful as that,’ Jerry said. ‘It’s low-key stuff, mine. Mostly I go round with my book trolley, and sometimes I get lucky and I’m on tea and biscuits.’

  Paloma chimed in, ‘Jerry, you make it sound as if you drink the tea yourself.’

  ‘I do in slack moments. It’s allowed. Are you local?’ he asked Diamond.

  ‘Weston.’

  ‘That’s local. I’ve drunk at the Old Crown.’

  ‘Peter is in the local police,’ Paloma said to her son. ‘At Manvers Street.’

  Jerry gave one of the standard responses every off-duty copper is used to hearing. ‘We’d better watch out then.’

  ‘No need,’ Diamond said and trotted out the standard reassurance. ‘Like everyone else, we try and leave the job behind at the end of the day. I like a drink at the Old Crown, too.’

  ‘Hey, I’m obviously missing something,’ Paloma said. ‘I must try this pub.’

  ‘You’d love it, Mother,’ Jerry said. ‘Quaint old building. Terrace garden looking out across the Locksbrook valley. A pleasure in store, perhaps.’ He grinned at Diamond, man to man, and then looked at his watch. ‘I’d better shoot if I’m going to get round all the wards.’

  Jerry wished them a good evening and left.

  ‘You must be proud of him,’ Diamond said to Paloma. ‘At his age my life consisted of rugby, girls and beer.’

  ‘I don’t know about the rugby,’ she said, ‘but I think the girls and the beer feature in his life. Still, he’s a good son. He’s always looked out for me.’

  ‘That’s his four-by-four, then?’ Diamond said, hearing the deep thrumming of the engine. ‘Personal training must pay all right.’

  ‘Jerry’s well qualified. Sports science at Loughborough. I couldn’t see where it was leading at the time, but when he got his degree it was perfect timing because everyone was suddenly into fitness. Do you think it will last? I sometimes wonder what he’ll do if everyone turns to meditation, or gardening.’

  ‘He’ll adapt.’

  ‘Yes, but to what?’

  ‘Teaching higher thoughts while using the treadmill.’

  She laughed.

  ‘Or how to mow the lawn without bringing on a coronary.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be mocking my son’s career?’

  ‘Making light of your concern. His generation don’t know what the next trend is, but they take it on. I admire them. And Jerry must be OK if he gives up his time to a good cause.’

  ‘It’s quite a commitment,’ she said, nodding. ‘He visits most of the hospitals in the area. The books are collected mainly by young people in his church, all in nice condition. The books, I mean.’ She laughed. ‘Well, I guess the young people must be in good condition, too.’

  ‘He is, obviously.’

  ‘Yes, I suspect some of the female patients look forward to seeing him with his trolley.’

  ‘If he needs more books I might be able to find some.’ He’d just remembered Steph’s Agatha Christies at home. She would have wanted them used for a good cause.

  ‘That would be great. It’s run like a library, but they lose a fair number. It’s properly managed, though, from a depot on some trading estate. Now what about you?’ she said. ‘Are you happy in your work?’

  ‘Me, I’m stuck in a rut.’

  ‘But you like being in the police, don’t you?’

  ‘It’s what I do. I try and make a fist of it. Yours is the ideal job, turning your hobby into a thriving business.’

  She looked pleased. ‘Want to see where it happens?’

  ‘I’d love to.’

  She led him across the hall and up a wide staircase. The wall to their right was lined with photos of Edward
ian beauties in fine clothes, but he was watching the swing of Paloma’s hips as she ascended. Maybe she took lessons from her son, because she moved well and had a good figure.

  At the top was a room that must have been two large bedrooms knocked into one and they were lined with shelves. Books, filing boxes and bound magazines filled the space from floor to ceiling with an impression that everything had its place. Many were old, yet there was no smell, no sign of dust. At one end facing a window was a huge antique desk, its surface clear.

  ‘That’s what I use when I’m opening books, looking for items,’ she said. ‘The office bit is through here.’ She opened a door between the shelves and showed him a room set up with computer, printer and scanner, photocopier, filing cabinets and phone.

  ‘What’s this?’ he asked, looking at a square screen with some kind of winding gear at its base.

  ‘My microfilm viewer. I have a run of the Illustrated London News up to 1940 and various journals too big to store next door. About a thousand reels.’

  ‘I’m reeling, too.’

  ‘There’s another room with scrapbooks, but I’m not taking you in there. I’m ashamed of it. They come in all sizes and they’re the devil to keep tidy.’

  ‘You obviously like order,’ he said thinking of the tip that was his own work space at home.

  ‘Without it, I’d disappear under a million newspaper cuttings.’

  ‘So this is where you tracked down the Muller cut-down. It didn’t take you long.’

  ‘It was in one of my fashion encyclopedias. It’s funny. Top hats were supposed to be the mark of a well-dressed man, yet they have quite a sinister reputation.’

  ‘As worn by undertakers?’

  ‘True, but I’m talking about what happened to the people who made them. They treated the felt with salts of mercury, so they were breathing in poisonous fumes. They’d get the shakes and twitch. That’s how the phrase ‘mad as a hatter’ is supposed to have originated.’

  ‘I thought that was Alice in Wonderland.’

  ‘No it goes back a good thirty years before Lewis Carroll.’

  ‘I’ve learned something new, then.’

  ‘Shall we go downstairs? I’ve got a quiche warming up. I thought it might go nicely with the beer.’