Upon A Dark Night

by Peter Lovesey

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Cruelty to her mother is the best bet. A history of violence or meanness that outraged her when she discovered it. She’d watched her mother die prematurely, at forty-nine. Now she discovered things that made her angry enough to find the old man and kill him.’

  ‘You could be onto something there.’

  ‘You really think so?’

  ‘But you’re not going to know the answer until you find her.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘Instead of trying to work out why she killed him, isn’t it better to focus on finding her?’

  ‘You mean she’ll roll over and tell all? I guess you’re right, as ever.’

  He spread marmalade on his beautifully even piece of toast and left for work soon after.

  The Metropolitan Police confirmed overnight that Christine Gladstone had not used her flat in Gowan Avenue, Fulham, since at least the last week in September. They had found a heap of unopened mail waiting for her. Her landlord knew nothing about her absence because she paid her rent by banker’s order. The people in the other flat thought she was on a foreign holiday.

  Diamond handed the fax back to Halliwell. ‘We’re closing in, Keith. I’ll get up to London today and look at the flat. Julie can drive me. You’re in charge here, at the cutting edge.’

  Halliwell grinned. ‘Expecting results from our press conference?’

  Diamond was determined to be upbeat. ‘I said we’re closing in, Keith. It’s all coming together. For example, I’m about to get the latest from Jim Marsh.’

  But Jim Marsh, the pathologist, wasn’t about. He wasn’t at the lab, either.

  Undaunted, Diamond asked the exchange to get his home number.

  ‘Who’zzz zizzz?’ The voice of a man on Temazepam. Or gin.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be in work like the rest of us? I’m sitting here like a buddha waiting for results from you.’

  ‘Gave them to Ju – Ju-’

  ‘Julie?’

  ‘Couldn’t get hold of you last night. Called her at home.’

  ‘She isn’t in yet. Have we come up trumps?’

  Marsh was becoming more coherent, and he didn’t sound like a man with a winning hand. ‘Worked until bloody late. Three of us.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I took a sleeper when I got home. If I work late I can’t get off to sleep.’ He was off on a tangent.

  ‘What about the hairs, Jim?’

  ‘Hairs?’

  ‘The tests you were doing.’

  ‘Tests, yes. I told you I found how many specimens of hair?’’ Seventeen.’

  ‘Seventeen. Eleven from the owner of the car.’’ Imogen Starr.’

  ‘That left…’

  ‘Six.’

  ‘Six, and when we analysed them, they came from three subjects. You’re going to be pissed off, Mr Diamond. None of them matched the two hairs we found in the farmhouse.’

  He couldn’t believe it. ‘You drew a complete blank?’

  ‘It doesn’t prove a thing either way. She could have sat in the car without losing a hair.’

  ‘What do I do now?’

  ‘Find the lady, I reckon.’

  ‘Oh, cheers!’

  ‘We still have the two hairs from the scene,’ Marsh reminded him. ‘That’s the good thing about NAA. We don’t destroy the evidence in the test. Those hairs will be useful at the trial.’

  ‘What trial?’

  After he’d slammed the phone down, he realised he had not actually thanked Marsh and his team for working overtime. For once he remembered his manners, pressed the redial button and rectified that. Marsh listened and said, ‘Mr Diamond.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Would you get off my phone now?’

  He gave the disappointing news to the others in the incident room, and then added, ‘It’s not all gloom and doom. With the Met’s help, we’ve confirmed that Christine Gladstone, alias Rose Black, the victim’s daughter, has been missing from home since the end of September. I’m off to London shortly to search her flat. Meantime, Keith will take over here. Since we went public yesterday, a number of possible sightings have come in.’

  Halliwell summed up the paltry results. Seven reported sightings and two offers of help from psychics. The missing woman had apparently shopped in Waitrose and Waterstone’s, cycled down Widcombe Hill, eaten an apricot slice in Scoffs, appeared at a bedroom window in Lower Weston, studied Spanish in Trowbridge and walked two Afghan hounds on Lansdown. One of the psychics thought she was dead, buried on the beach at Weston-super-Mare, and the other had a vision of her with a tall, dark man in a balloon. All of it, however unlikely, was being processed into the filing system, and would need to be followed up.

  The squad heard the results in silence. Appeals for help from the public had predictable results. You had to hope something of substance would appear. As yet, it had not.

  ‘Do we go national now?’ Halliwell asked.

  ‘No. We knock on doors in Tormarton,’ said Diamond.

  ‘House-to-house?’

  ‘Someone up there knows about the digging, if nothing else. There were seven large holes, for God’s sake, and they didn’t have a JCB. It took days. They were tidy. They filled in after. Covered over any footprints. Get a doorstepping team together, Keith, and draw up some questions that we can agree.’

  ‘Is it worth targeting the metal-detector people, the guys who spend their weekends looking for treasure?’

  He snapped his fingers. ‘Of course it is. Good. Send someone to Gary Paternoster, the lad who runs the shop in Walcot Street, the Treasure House, and get a list of his customers, plus any clubs that function locally. Julie and I are off to London shortly to…’ He looked around the room. ‘Where the hell is Julie?’

  ‘Hasn’t been in yet,’ said Halliwell.

  ‘Any message?’

  Halliwell shook his head.

  ‘What time is it?’ Diamond asked. ‘She would have called in by now if she’s ill.’

  Shortly after nine that morning, William Allardyce came out of the house in the Royal Crescent and looked for the blue BMW. It was not in its usual place. Then his attention was caught by a fat man dressed in eccentric clothes and behaving oddly and he was reminded of the filming of Pickwick. All the residents had been paid to park elsewhere the previous night. His BMW was in the Circus.

  Annoyed with himself, he set off at a canter along Brock Street. He didn’t like being late for appointments and he hadn’t allowed for the extra ten minutes this would add to his short journey. He was due to meet an important client at the Bath Spa Hotel.

  When he reached his car it was already 9.15. He unlocked and got in. The moment he sat down he realised something was wrong, a crunch, a solid sensation when the springs took his weight. He got out. As he feared, he had a flat, one of the rear tyres. He kicked it and the casing gaped. This wasn’t a simple puncture. Some vandal had slashed it. So far as he could see, other cars nearby had not been damaged. His was singled out.

  There was no time to change the tyre and he was without his mobile phone. The nearest taxi rank was at the bottom of Milsom Street. He decided to return home and phone the hotel to say the earliest he could manage was 9.45. And while he was waiting for a taxi he would also phone the police.

  Julie’s non-arrival at the incident room was the result of a night without much sleep. Late last evening, Jim Marsh had called her at home to report the disappointing result of the hair analysis. People who knew Diamond’s volatile moods tended to take the soft option and give Julie the bad news and ask her to relay it to him. She had decided to save it for the morning. About 1.30am, her brain churning over the day’s events for the umpteenth time, still fretting at the lack of progress, she reached for the light-switch and sat up to read, hoping some science fiction would engage her mind more than hair samples that didn’t match. Charlie was away, on duty in Norfolk. She opened Dune, a book she was re-reading and enjoying even more the second time. Soon the chill in the room go
t uncomfortable. She reached for a drawer and took out a thick cardigan and wrapped it around her shoulders. As she brought the sleeves across her chest she happened to notice a hair attached to the ribbing. Automatically she picked it off and dropped it over the edge of the bed. She carried on reading. Some minutes passed before this unthinking action was replayed in her mind. Then an idea came to her that kept her from sleeping for another two hours.

  In the morning it still seemed worth following up. She hoped she could deal with it before Peter Diamond got into work. By nine she was at the Social Services office, just along the street from the nick. Unluckily, Imogen Starr had also had a disturbed night and didn’t turn up until almost nine-thirty.

  Julie told her that the hair samples from the car had proved negative. ‘We’re still hoping to find one of Rose’s, and I had a thought last night. When you brought her back from the hospital what was she wearing?’

  ‘Her own things,’ said Imogen.

  ‘The clothes she was found in?’

  ‘They were stained and torn, but they were all she had.’

  ‘So did you fit her out with fresh clothes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where from?’

  ‘From our stock. Here. We keep some basic clothes for emergency use. I brought her in before we went to Harmer House and we found a shirt and some jeans. They weren’t new, but they were clean and in better condition than the ones she had.’

  Tensely Julie asked, ‘And what happened to the old clothes?’

  ‘They were really no use to her.’

  ‘Did she take them with her?’

  ‘No, she discarded them. There was nothing left in the pockets, if that’s what you were thinking.’

  ‘What happened to them?’

  Imogen lifted her shoulders in a dismissive way. ‘I suppose they were thrown out with the rubbish. Well, the shirt was, for sure. We may have kept the jeans. They were hanging open at the knee, but that’s fashionable, isn’t it? We don’t like to throw anything out that might come in useful.’

  ‘Where would they be if you kept them?’

  ‘The storeroom.’

  ‘Can we check?’

  ‘I don’t want to dash your hopes, if you’re hoping to find a hair on them, but they’ve probably been washed by now.’

  Julie felt a flutter of despair.

  ‘We wait for a reasonable load and then someone takes them to the launderette.’

  ‘But I’d like you to check, please,’ Julie insisted.

  In the storeroom she helped Imogen rummage through black plastic sacks of musty-smelling clothes.

  ‘Most of these haven’t been to the laundry.’

  ‘Yes, we’ve obviously been stockpiling.’

  Eventually, Imogen looked into a bag and said, ‘This could be them.’

  ‘Careful,’ Julie warned. ‘Don’t lift them out.’

  ‘How can we tell if they’re hers if we don’t lift them out?’

  ‘Look at them in the sack. Spread it open. Keep your head back if you can. We don’t want to catch one of your hairs.’

  Imogen found the rip in the knee she remembered.

  Resisting the temptation to see if she’d really got lucky, Julie tied a knot in the top of the bag and carried it through the street to the police station.

  She went in search of Jim Marsh.

  Eventually, she arrived at the incident room at 10.20. The meeting was over and people were going about their business with a quiet sense of purpose, so each word of what followed was heard by most of the squad.

  ‘It looks nice,’ Diamond said in his heavy-handed way.

  ‘I beg your pardon.’

  ‘The do. Been to the hairdresser’s, have you?’

  There was an awkward interval. Then Julie said, ‘Obviously I should have called earlier, but I didn’t think it would take so long.’

  ‘The highlighting?’

  She’d had enough. ‘Will you listen? I don’t fix personal appointments in police time. As a matter of fact, the last time I was due to have my hair done, you put me on overtime, so I had to cancel. If you want to know where I was first thing this morning, it was on police business, on my own initiative. Is that allowed?’

  ‘All right, I’m out of order,’ he said without sounding as if he meant it. ‘Where were you?’

  She told him about her last-ditch idea of tracking down Rose’s rejected clothes, and of locating the jeans in the storeroom.

  His entire approach altered. ‘I hardly dare ask. Have you shown them to Marsh yet?’

  ‘That’s why I’m so late. He was still at home.’

  ‘I know. But did he find anything?’

  ‘He said it had to be examined in a controlled situation, or some such phrase.’

  ‘Here?’

  ‘In the SOCOs’ section, I think.’

  He picked up a phone and pressed the internal number. He was through to Marsh directly.

  ‘You have? With what result?…Brilliant!…I know, I know, you don’t have to tell me that. Just rush it to the lab and see if we’re in business, will you?’ He put down the phone and smiled at Julie. ‘One dark hair, nine centimetres long. You may have cracked it this time, Julie.’

  She didn’t trust herself to say anything.

  Allardyce was surprised to be shown into Chief Inspector 265 Wigfull’s office. ‘I expected to speak to Superintendent Diamond. He’s the one I saw previously.’

  ‘Mr Diamond is on another case,’ said Wigfull in a lofty tone. ‘I’ve taken over the handling of the incident at your house.’

  ‘It’s just that we haven’t seen you there.’

  ‘It’s mainly paperwork at this stage. The on-site investigation is complete.’

  ‘What conclusion did you reach – or am I not supposed to ask?’

  ‘That will be up to the coroner. We simply present the evidence. You’ll be notified about the inquest in due course, sir. You’ll be called as a witness. As to this other matter, the damage to your car, we’ll investigate, of course, but-’

  ‘The tyre was slashed. It had to be reported.’

  ‘You’re absolutely right, sir, but if it’s any consolation, it may not have been personal,’ Wigfull said, confirming a melancholy truth. ‘Casual vandalism is quite common even in Bath, I’m sorry to say. If we had more officers to patrol the streets…’

  ‘If it wasn’t personal, why was my car picked out? None of the others were touched.’ He was genuinely puzzled and hurt..

  ‘You said it’s new. Sometimes that can be a provocation.’

  Allardyce gave a shrug and a smile. ‘What are we supposed to do? Never drive a new car?’

  Wigfull shifted in his chair. He was beginning to feel sympathy for this young man. ‘Why else should it have been picked out? You tell me, sir.’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  This justified leading the witness a little. ‘I suppose it comes suspiciously soon after the publicity about the young woman’s death in your house.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Any vandalism is taken seriously, sir.’

  Allardyce ignored the empty phrase. ‘I mean what does that poor woman’s death have to do with this?’

  ‘I don’t know. If they decided you were responsible in some way…’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘I’m trying to see it from their point of view.’

  ‘Who are you talking about?’

  ‘Some friend of the deceased.’ Even as he spoke, an uncomfortable idea was stirring at the back of Wigfull’s brain.

  ‘I don’t follow your thinking.’

  ‘But it’s well known that you weren’t to blame for what happened,’ Wigfull affirmed, not wanting to grapple with the dire thought now forming. ‘Your house was taken over by young people wanting a party. There was a tragic consequence. No fault of yours.’

  ‘If that’s the way you see it…’ said Allardyce, beginning to be swayed.

  ‘Besides,’ said Wigfull, ‘it wasn�
�t as if your car was parked outside your house. Anyone wanting to get at you personally would have to know which car it was and where you parked it last night.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘We’ll follow this up and let you know if we have a result, but my money is on some kid out of school who doesn’t know your vehicle from anyone else’s,’ he lied, to bring this to a close. He got up from his chair and showed Allardyce to the door. ‘Your neighbour – Mr Treadwell. Does he have a car?’

  ‘No. Wise man. He works in Bath and doesn’t need to travel so much.’

  Alone in his office again, Wigfull sat brooding like a Thomas Hardy hero on the malign sport of the fates. Finally he sighed, pressed the intercom and spoke to the control room. ‘Send someone round to Harmer House, would you, and bring in Ada Shaftsbury. Yes, I repeat: Ada Shaftsbury.’

  Twenty-eight

  Somewhere east of Reading on the M4, Diamond said to Julie, ‘We’ve got some fences to repair, you and me.’

  She didn’t speak, so he amended it.

  ‘I’ve got some fences to repair.’

  They drove another half-mile in silence.

  ‘I said I was out of order, didn’t I? Meant it, too. You know me by now, Julie. Things start going wrong and I get stroppy. That’s all it was back there. Jim Marsh had just been on the line telling me his tests were negative.’

  She was driving as if she had a sleeping cobra on her lap.

  ‘There’s the difference between you and me,’ Diamond talked on. ‘I take my disappointment out on other people, anyone in the firing line, while you get on and sort out the problem.’

  Not a flicker.

  He opened the glove compartment. ‘There were some Polos in here last time I looked. Fancy a mint?’

  She mouthed the word ‘no’ without even a glance towards him.

  This was becoming intolerable. He said, ‘Well, if you want to cut me down to size, now’s as good a time as any.’

  ‘You mean in private,’ she ended her silence, ‘where the rest of the squad can’t overhear us?’