The Secret Hangman pd-9

by Peter Lovesey

  Leaman went on rationalising. ‘It fits in quite well with the personal-trainer thing. These guys from Eastern Europe love their sport. I bet the female clients are impressed by a foreign accent, too.’

  ‘I saw the birth certificate. Harry Lang was born in Lewisham.’

  Leaman flushed and sat back in his chair.

  Some seconds passed before Diamond said, ‘When he did a runner I assumed it was because he was our suspect. He was out of that house and through the neighbour’s as soon as we turned up. He drives out to Combe Down and goes underground. It’s the action of a guilty man — isn’t it?’

  ‘Is there any doubt?’

  ‘I’m less confident than I was.’

  ‘Why? His kit was in the car. It can’t be anyone else.’

  Diamond reached into his back pocket and took out the photo he’d found in Lang’s flat, the 9.85 points pose. No question this was the man he’d seen stretchered into the ambulance.

  ‘Is that him? Jocelyn Steel’s trainer?’ Leaman said.

  ‘Yep.’ He was still looking at the photo. ‘Where we found this there were also a couple of letters in a foreign language. I didn’t think anything of it at the time.’ He glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘Let’s go upstairs.’

  ‘We haven’t been here twenty minutes, guv. You haven’t eaten your bun.’

  Diamond was on his feet and making for the exit.

  Two nurses were in the intensive care unit when the detectives walked in. Diamond showed his ID and said he’d spoken to the doctor and now he needed a word with the patient — a justifiable economy with the facts.

  Harry Lang had his eyes closed and was tubed and wired. His face had been cleaned up since he was on the stretcher. Instead of dust, bruising on his cheek and forehead bore witness to the rock fall.

  ‘Harry.’

  No reaction.

  ‘Harry Lang.’

  The lips moved and spoke something incomprehensible. Polish? It could have been anything.

  ‘I’m a police officer. Police, do you understand?’

  He did not. One of the nurses stepped forward and said, ‘I don’t know what the doctor said to you, but this is too soon. He’s getting it together, but slowly. There’s a canteen downstairs.’

  ‘Has he said anything at all in English?’

  She shook her head. ‘He sounds like a foreigner to me.’

  They left the unit. Instead of taking a seat outside, Diamond marched on through a set of swing doors and turned right into one of the general wards. Leaman, uncertain what this was about, followed. Diamond took one look along the ward, turned about and almost collided with his colleague.

  ‘Not this one.’

  He moved on. Halfway up the next ward with his trolley was Jerry Kean, helping someone choose a book. Two patients in dressing gowns were by the trolley leafing through novels.

  ‘Jerry.’

  The young man looked back over his shoulder and saw Diamond and Leaman. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘You put me onto Harry Lang. Do you know him well?’

  ‘Look, I’m doing my job here.’

  ‘Understood. So am I, and I need help. What can you tell me about the man?’

  Jerry gave the patients an apology and turned back to Diamond.

  ‘Harry’s been around a year or so. Works for an agency. I haven’t heard anything bad about him.’

  ‘But you’ve met him?’

  ‘At the gym a few times. You asked if I know him well and I wouldn’t say I do.’

  ‘Spoken with him?’

  ‘Like I said.’

  He put the key question to Jerry. ‘The accent. He’s a foreigner, isn’t he?’

  Jerry scratched his head and frowned. ‘His English is pretty good, but yes, there’s something about the accent.’

  ‘He’s never mentioned coming from anywhere else?’

  ‘All we’ve talked about is football and cars.’

  ‘He drives a nice car, a new Subaru.’

  ‘There’s nothing remarkable in that. It’s about image. The clients don’t expect you to turn up in some old banger.’

  ‘Yes, but he lives in a council flat.’

  ‘No mortgage. He can afford a good car.’

  Diamond had heard enough. ‘Thanks, Jerry.’

  He went to the quiet end of the ward and used his new mobile to call Keith Halliwell. ‘Did you get the search warrant?’

  ‘Sorted. The scene of crime team are in Lang’s flat already.’

  ‘That birth certificate. They’ll have that, presumably?’

  ‘It’ll be bagged up by now, guv.’

  ‘Just my luck. Do you remember the details?’

  ‘Not everything. Harry Spellman Lang, wasn’t it? Born in Lewisham, 1978.’

  ‘Did it look genuine to you?’

  ‘It was a copy certified by the General Register Office.’

  ‘But anyone can apply for one.’

  ‘They’d need the name and details.’

  ‘Which are in the index in the search room at the Family Records Centre. What I’m saying is if someone wanted to pass himself off as Harry Lang all he has to do is get the details and apply for a certificate. You could call yourself John Lennon and ask for a copy of the birth certificate.’

  ‘What’s this about, guv?’

  ‘This character in intensive care is speaking in some foreign language. I don’t think he was born in Lewisham. I’m wondering if the reason he did a runner is because he’s an illegal.’

  The call stopped there because a hand clutched Diamond’s arm and forced the phone away from his ear. The ward sister had taken over. ‘Can’t you read?’ she said. ‘There are notices all over the hospital telling you not to use mobiles.’

  ‘Sorry, Sister,’ he said.

  She was staring at the bag he was carrying. ‘I hope you haven’t been harassing the patients.’

  ‘I’m a senior police officer.’

  ‘I don’t care if you’re God. Out.’

  40

  ‘Y ou could have warned me she was coming,’ he said in the car.

  Leaman said, ‘She was too quick. You were standing right outside her office.’

  ‘Well, you could have reminded me that phones are banned.’

  ‘Yep.’ Leaman, like Halliwell before him, had read the signs. The boss was stretched to breaking point. It wasn’t wise to prolong the exchange.

  They were driving down Entry Hill towards Bear Flat and for once the place they were going was on the same side of town. Home Workouts, Harry Lang’s agency, operated from a private house. With luck, the dragon who ran it would be at home. After the run-in with the ward sister, Diamond was relishing a situation where he wouldn’t be in the wrong.

  There were lights in the house in Kipling Avenue.

  His ring was answered, but the chain remained on the door. ‘If this is a business call, you’ll have to come back tomorrow,’ the mouth in the gap said. ‘It’s out of hours now.’

  ‘We’re the police,’ he said, pushing his ID forward, ‘and we work all hours. May we come in?’

  ‘What’s it about?’

  ‘One of your people, Harry Lang.’

  ‘That’s business.’

  ‘Madam, if you want a ride to the police station, say so. If you want the special treatment, shut the door in my face and I’ll batter it down and collect you. If not, open up and we’ll talk in the comfort of your own home.’

  ‘Don’t you threaten me,’ the mouth said.

  ‘Threaten? I’ve got your welfare in mind. In fact, I’ll give you a safety warning. Stand well back.’

  ‘I’ve done nothing illegal.’

  ‘Then prove it by cooperating.’

  They heard the chain being unfastened.

  This one punches above her weight, Diamond thought when he saw her. She was no more than the height of his elbows, pencil slim and with pinched flesh that spoke of questionable nutrition. The only things of substance were the thick lenses in her glasses
. He guessed she was in her fifties. The long blonde hair looked all wrong for the face.

  The striplighting flickered, functioned and showed the front room. Filing cabinets, desk with computer, stationery cupboard. She flapped her hand at the chair in front of the desk and Diamond sat in it. Leaman would have to lean against one of the cabinets. As for the little lady, she appeared to grow as she positioned herself on the other side of the desk. Either she used a couple of cushions or the chair was mounted on a dais.

  Her name, they learned, was Daphne De La Fleur and that was the only frivolous thing about her. ‘Can we get to the point?’

  They hadn’t even started. Diamond threw her an easy one. ‘I expect you enquire into the background of the trainers you take on?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘What does that involve? References, experience?’

  ‘Certainly, but all that is confidential.’

  ‘What do they have to supply? Proof of identity?’

  ‘That’s a standard requirement.’

  ‘What — a passport?’

  ‘Or a birth certificate.’

  ‘A passport if they come from abroad?’

  She folded her arms. ‘I don’t like the drift of this. What exactly are you investigating?’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Diamond said. ‘We’re nothing to do with immigration. I spoke to you before and you know it’s Harry Lang who interests us.’

  An extra degree of disapproval crept in. ‘That was you being heavy-handed on the phone, was it? I know of nothing to Harry’s discredit. He’s good at his job and popular with the clients. I’m sure he had nothing to do with that ghastly murder in the park.’

  ‘Where’s he from originally?’

  ‘South London, I believe.’

  ‘The accent isn’t south London. It’s East European.’

  ‘Perhaps his parents were from there.’

  ‘Quite likely. But if he was born and brought up in London he’d have a London accent.’

  ‘I’ve seen his birth certificate.’

  ‘So have I,’ Diamond said. ‘Did you check his passport as well?’

  ‘As a British subject, he doesn’t have to produce one.’

  ‘You mean you ask no questions.’ He put this as a statement and he could see she didn’t like it. ‘How many others get jobs here by producing freshly copied birth certificates?’

  She took a noisy breath. ‘If you’re suggesting I knowingly employ illegal aliens, you’re very much mistaken.’

  ‘You’re missing the point,’ he said. ‘I told you we’re not immigration officers. We’re investigating several murders. Harry Lang is under suspicion because he was one of the last to see Mrs Jocelyn Steel alive, last Friday afternoon. She was strangled some time between then and Sunday morning, when the body was discovered. We called to interview Lang today and he took off at a rate of knots, right through a neighbour’s house and up the street to his car, ending up in an underground quarry at Combe Down. The roof fell in.’

  ‘Oh, no.’ She reached up and grasped her neck. ‘Is he…?’

  ‘In intensive care and too far gone to question.’

  ‘Poor man. That’s dreadful.’

  ‘We’re here because you know him better than anyone.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say so,’ she said, guarded again.

  ‘You could be right. Some of his rich lady clients may have a more, em, intimate knowledge. Furnish me with the names and addresses and I’ll send my officers round.’

  The colour drained from her face. ‘I can’t allow that. These are valued clients. Respectable people.’

  ‘And Lang is the main suspect in a murder case.’ He ran his finger over the address cards in the rotary holder on her desk. ‘What are your valued clients going to say when they find out?’

  She reached for the Rolodex and returned it to her side of the desk.

  ‘It’s up to you,’ he said without letting up. ‘I want the reason why he ran. Is it because he’s a serial killer, or because he’s working here illegally under a false identity?’

  She held his gaze for a moment and then the defiance oozed away. She looked down at her fingers and, of all things, laid the blame on the Community of Europe. ‘It’s so difficult keeping up with everything now. I’m not saying his birth certificate is wrong, but if it turned out he was from one of the new countries it wouldn’t matter, would it?’

  Leaman, logical as usual, said, ‘It would to us. It would mean he had another reason for leaving in a hurry.’

  Diamond had seen the loophole Miss De La Fleur had created and was willing to see how she used it. ‘True. Do you have a suspicion, Miss De La Fleur?’

  She sighed and adjusted her glasses. ‘One of the clients told me she thought Harry was from Kosovo. I didn’t know what to think. Those poor people suffered dreadfully in the war. I didn’t question him about it because it was only hearsay. If that’s a crime, I hold up my hand.’

  ‘Kosovo?’

  She enquired on a rising note of expectation, ‘Is that part of the enlarged community?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Are there any other foreigners on your books?’

  She said in a prim tone that gave away more than she intended, ‘Not to my knowledge.’

  He’d done enough skirting round the truth. He went into hard policeman mode. ‘I want the details of each of your trainers — full names, addresses, contact numbers. The same for the people they visit.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘A printout. Your schedule as well, listing all the home visits.’

  ‘This will destroy my business,’ she said.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Musclemen on tap, for home visits? Any clients you lose you’ll soon recoup with the extra publicity.’

  An outraged sound came from the back of her throat, but she knew he wasn’t playing. While she busied herself with the computer he took out his new phone and tried to get a number. He gave it a shake.

  Leaman said, ‘Try switching it on.’

  ‘Nothing gets past you.’ He made a call to Keith Halliwell. ‘Are the crime scene people still at Lang’s flat?’

  ‘Finished, guv.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Too early to know.’

  ‘Did they pick up those letters?’

  ‘Yes. Do you want them translated?’

  ‘Do I want them translated? No, I’ll use my pocket dictionary. Get with it, Keith. First I’d like to know what language they’re in. Try Kosovan.’

  ‘Albanian.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Kosovan is not a language. Most Kosovans speak Albanian.’

  ‘I was pulling your chain, professor. What else came to light?’

  ‘They lifted masses of prints,’ Halliwell said. ‘That could be a problem. He has more callers than a cat on heat.’

  ‘Any recorded messages on his phone?’

  ‘There’s no landline here. He must use a mobile.’

  ‘We didn’t find one on him.’

  ‘And there wasn’t one here.’

  ‘In his car, maybe.’

  ‘Sorry, but no. The car is with forensics. They bagged up everything and gave me a list.’

  ‘Must have slung it. ‘ Diamond looked at the clock on the wall. ‘OK. We’re leaving any minute now. It’s overtime for everyone on the team. Are they all about?’

  ‘Apart from Ingeborg. She’s on her way back. She kept trying to call you from Midford. Was your phone switched on?’

  He felt a small stab of guilt from which he recovered at once. ‘A mobile doesn’t work underground, dumbo.’

  41

  ‘L et’s face it, we’re too late for Martin Steel,’ John Leaman said to the rest of CID, now gathered in the incident room. ‘Going by what happened to the others, he’ll have been strangled already. He’ll be strung up overnight in some public place for the first hapless berk who comes by to discover tomorrow morning. We’ve failed him.’

  ‘John, that’s a load of bull,’ Halliwell said
. ‘The men aren’t strangled first. Danny Geaves was hanged, and hanged at night. There’s still a chance to save this guy.’

  ‘Well, I could be wrong, but I know this much. The boss was down a mine all afternoon while I was above ground watching some kids kick a ball around. I’m a senior detective. I could have been better employed.’

  Someone muttered in a passable imitation of Brando, ‘I could have been a contender.’

  Halliwell said, ‘The boss caught up with Harry Lang.’

  ‘Top result!’ Leaman said with sarcasm.

  ‘What’s your problem with that?’

  ‘Turns out he’s an illegal immigrant and that’s why he scarpered when we raided the flat.’

  ‘So he’s an illegal. He’s still in the frame, isn’t he?’ Halliwell said. ‘Jocelyn Steel’s personal trainer and one of the last to see her alive. Has the boss given up on him?’

  ‘He should.’

  ‘Am I missing something here?’

  ‘Did any of the other female victims have personal trainers?’ Paul Gilbert asked, trying to be constructive.

  ‘Come on,’ Leaman said in the jeering tone you would only use with a rookie. ‘Delia Williamson had two kids and was working evenings as a waitress. She didn’t need to find ways of exercising. And Christine Twining had a demanding job with Marks and Spencer. Her brother-in-law told us a lunchtime walk in the park was the only exercise she got.’

  ‘I wouldn’t count Lang out of it until we get some forensic results,’ Halliwell said.

  ‘You think there’s more to him?’ Gilbert said.

  ‘A twenty-grand car, for starters. Where did he get that money when he’s living in community housing?’

  ‘Ask him when his head clears,’ Leaman said. ‘It doesn’t help us. There isn’t a profit motive in these killings.’

  ‘What is the motive?’ Gilbert asked.

  ‘If we knew that, we’d be making an arrest,’ Halliwell said.

  ‘We’re chasing a nutter,’ Leaman said. ‘We can forget about motive.’

  Unseen by Leaman, Diamond had come in with Ingeborg at his side. ‘What’s your plan, John? Call in a shrink?’

  ‘It might be no bad thing.’

  Halliwell rolled his eyes and looked towards Diamond. ‘Guv, I don’t know how much you heard. The thinking seems to be that Martin Steel is as good as dead already and we ought to be second-guessing where to find his body.’