The House Sitter (7 page)

“Yes.”

Out in the sunshine, Hen lit up a cigar and said to Stella, “We passed Outpatients’ on the way in. Why don’t you take Dr Seton there and buy him a cup of coffee? I need to check a couple of things with Mr Diamond.”

So Stella found herself reluctantly paired off with the masturbation expert, while Hen flashed a not-too-sympathetic smile and a promise of, “We won’t forget you.”

“The pay-off?” said Diamond to Hen, as they moved off.

“She was practically wetting herself laughing in my office,” she said. “She had it coming.”

“She’s with the right man, then.”

She didn’t smile. Diamond would have to work hard to overcome that bad first impression.

“Anyway,” she said. “I know a better place.”

“I hoped you might.”

These two strong individuals sat opposite each other at a table in the staff canteen like chess-players. They’d collected a pot of tea and Hen was determined not to be the one who poured. After Diamond had eaten a biscuit, slowly, he said, “Do you take yours white?”

She nodded and reached for the milk. “Are you going to pour?”

It seemed a fair distribution of the duties. “OK, I’m sorry about Seton,” he had the grace to say. “As you probably noticed, he’s a one-subject man. I had two hours of it in the car.”

“Do you think the professor picked him specially?”

“I’m sure of it. And I’m sure everyone had a good laugh about it after we’d driven away.”

“You could have tipped me off.”

“But how? It’s not the kind of thing you can whisper in a lady’s ear.”

She weighed that. “Probably not,” she conceded finally. Then: “For pity’s sake, how does he carry out this research? Oh, never mind. I’ll hear it all from Stella.”

“When I get back to Bath, I’ll speak to the prof,” Diamond said, putting down the teapot. He hadn’t done too well. Two pools of tea had spilt on the table. “Don’t you find metal pots always pour badly? The prof should be able to tell me more about the cases this woman was advising on. I’m assuming her death is in some way related to her job.”

“It has to be followed up,” Hen agreed, dropping a paper napkin over the spillage and wiping it.

“So what’s been happening down here?” he asked. “Do you have anything else under investigation?”

“Serious crimes? Nothing we’d need a profiler for, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Sleepers? We’ve all got sleepers.” He meant the unsolved crimes that stayed on file.

“A few of those, but none we’re actively pursuing. Believe me, I didn’t ask her to come and neither did anyone else I know.”

“Who are your neighbours? Hampshire police? Did anything happen in Portsmouth? Now
there’s
a place with a reputation. Naval base. All kinds of scams at the docks.”

“Portsmouth docks are more of a theme park these days,” she told him. “I’ve spoken to them, and they haven’t used her either.”

“She must have been down here for a reason.”

“Unless it was a holiday. People do go on holiday.”

“Dr Seton didn’t seem to know about it.”

Hen said, “Dr Seton seems to have narrow vision.”

He smiled. “It’s supposed to turn you blind, isn’t it?”

Her real reason for setting up this
tête-à-tête
had to be faced. “You’ll report back to me on this?”

“Full consultation,” he said after a slight pause. “It’s a joint investigation.”

“It was initiated here,” Hen made clear. “The incident room is at my nick. I’ll take the decisions.”

He said, “I wouldn’t want to pull rank.”

“Then don’t. It’s a West Sussex murder.”

“She’s a Bath and North-east Somerset woman. You may find the focus of the investigation is off-limits for you. Then you’ll need my help.”

“Need it? I’m depending on it,” Hen said. “Bath nick is my second home from now on.”

He grinned. Without getting heavy, they had reached an understanding. “And you’ll be welcome. So what’s happening at this end?”

She told him about the TV appeal and the difficulty in finding a genuine witness. “Plenty of people offered help, but not the ones we want most.”

“Who are they?”

“A family of three who were sitting close enough to notice her failing to move when the tide came in. The man fetched the lifeguard.”

“A responsible citizen, then?”

“But we’ve heard nothing from him since.”

“Do you have a description?”

“We have a name.”

“Good. What is it?”

She told him and he smiled. She told him about the daughter called Haley who had been lost for a short time.

“Haley is better than Smith,” he said. “Not so many Haleys about. Have you tried the local schools?”

“No joy.”

“People drive miles to the seaside,” he said. “They could be Londoners, or from anywhere. My way, even. Do you want me to take it on?”

She was guarded in her response. “For the present, I’d rather you found out what you can about Emma Tysoe’s life and work in Bath.” But it had not escaped her that he’d deferred to her. Maybe this man Diamond was more manageable than people said. “Now that we have her name, it’s going to open up more avenues.”

“As you wish,” he said. “And let’s get
our
names into the open. I’m going to call you Henrietta from now on.”

“Try it, and see what happens,” she told him with a sharp look. “I’m Hen.”

“Fair enough. Is it time we rescued your colleague from the one-gun salute man?”

“Stella? Not yet,” she said with a steely gleam in her eye. “I think I’d like a second cup. How about you . . . Pete?”

Without fuss, she made sure everyone had a partner.

“You’ll also need a pencil and a large sheet of paper. One rule for each pair, one pencil and one piece of paper. Decide now who will collect the rule, and who comes for the pencil and paper. Quietly. Is everyone ready? Then we’ll begin now.”

They carried out the instructions well. She explained that they would be measuring the length of their shoes, and showed them how to make two marks on the paper, and measure in centimetres. Most of the children understood and started making marks. She moved among them, assisting the slower learners.

After twenty minutes she said, “Now we’ll see what results we have.”

Not all of the kids had fully understood, so there were a few strange answers causing hilarity among those who had done the thing properly. Aidan, who was Haley’s partner, reckoned the length of his shoe was eighty-four centimetres.

“I expect you used the wrong end of the rule,” Miss Medlicott said. “What about you, Haley? What was your measurement?”

Haley held up the paper. She seemed to be hiding behind it.

“No, I’m asking you to tell me the length of your shoe in centimetres.”

Haley turned and whispered something to Aidan.

Aidan said, “She says fifteen, miss.”

“Thank you, Aidan, but I’d like to hear it from Haley.”

Again Haley whispered to Aidan, who said, “She can’t, miss. Her daddy said she isn’t to speak to you.”

After a moment, Miss Medlicott said, “Very well. Who’s next?”

She thought about asking Haley to remain behind to explain exactly what her father had said, but she decided the child was under enough pressure already. Something very wrong was happening in that family. She would have another word with the mother.

He didn’t inform Dr Seton either, until they were most of the way down the road to Wightview Sands and Seton remarked, “I don’t remember coming this way.”

“We didn’t. I thought you’d like to see where your colleague was found.”

“Not particularly.”

“Well, I do, and as I’m driving . . .” His stock of altruism was all used up.

This being towards the end of the afternoon, the oncoming lane was busy with cars leaving the beach, but the southward side was clear. At the car park entrance, they were asked for a pound.

“We’re not here for the beach,” Diamond told the attendant. “I’m a police officer, here about the murder.” He held his warrant card up to the cubicle.

“Bath and North-East Somerset?” the man said. “I thought this was a Sussex investigation.” He had the look of a petty official, tight, thin mouth and ferrety eyes. Dark hair flattened to his skull.

Diamond gave him the benefit of the doubt. “You’re perfectly right. I have a kind of watching brief. You can help us, in fact. Where’s the lifeguard hut?”

“Park near the beach café and you’ll see it,” he said. “Are they under suspicion, those lifeguards? They’re Aussies, you know.”

“That’s the bit of beach where the body was found, I was told.”

“So was I,” the man said. “I was stuck in here issuing tickets, so I missed all the excitement.”

“You must have let the police cars through.”

“I meant I missed what was happening on the beach.”

“Do you happen to remember the woman who was killed?”

“Out of a thousand or more who came past me? I’m afraid not, my friend. No doubt I met the murderer as well, but don’t ask me to pick him out.”

They drove through and parked where he’d told them. “Want an ice cream?” he asked Dr Seton, as they were passing the serving hatch of the beach café.

“I haven’t had such a thing for years,” Seton said

“Give in to it, then. It’s allowed. Wicked, but not illegal,” he said, having his own private joke. “If you don’t want an old-fashioned ice cream there are plenty of things on sticks. Take a look at the diagram and pick one out.”

“I don’t know, I’m sure.”

“Go for it, man. You look like a Classic Magnum fancier to me.”

“All right.”

When Diamond had paid for two Magnums and handed one over, he said, “Looking at that board with all the different shapes and colours, I was thinking they’d make a nice research project for someone.”

Seton gave him a frown and said nothing.

They moved across the turf and sat on the stone wall above the pebbles. The tide was some way out, so Diamond was able to point to where the sand met the stones. “That’s approximately where she was found, I gather, in a white two-piece swimsuit. Don’t suppose you ever saw her in a swimsuit, Dr Seton.”

“Certainly not.”

Diamond was the first to finish his Magnum. He said he’d go and have a word with the lifeguards. Unfortunately the two lads on duty hadn’t been around on the day of the murder. “You want to speak to the Aussies,” one of them said. “They know all about it.”

He would have to leave the Aussies for another day. He crunched across the pebbles to Seton and said, “Let’s go. Mustn’t keep you from your researches.”

Seton didn’t smile. He was probably thinking Diamond was a suitable case for analysis.

7

Tired from all the driving, which he knew he didn’t do well, he found himself in the early evening snarl-up. Coming down Wellsway into the city in a slow-moving line of traffic he let his attention wander. Halfway down, they had erected one of those mechanical billboards with rotating strips that displayed three different ads. These had the same slogan, BECAUSE IT’S BRITISH METAL, but the pictures altered. He watched an image of Concorde being replaced by the Millennium Bridge—and then jammed his foot on the brake just in time to avoid running into the bus in front of him. Fortunately the driver behind him was more alert.

He was relieved to complete the drive without mishap.

The Department of Behavioural Psychology was quiet at this hour, though not deserted. A research student confirmed that Professor Chromik had been in earlier.

“Do you happen to know where he lives?”

The young man shook his head.

“It’s important.”

“You might catch him at the end-of-semester bash later tonight if he hasn’t already pissed off to Spain, or somewhere.”

“Where’s it held?”

“The clubhouse at the Bath Golf Club.”

Dr Seton hadn’t mentioned a staff party. Possibly his colleagues had decided not to tell him.

There was time to go home to Weston and shower. He called the nick to make sure he still had a job, as he put it to Keith Halliwell. Nothing more dramatic had happened in Bath than a middle-aged streaker running down Milsom Street. “He didn’t have a lot to show to the world,” Halliwell said. “Nobody complained.”

“How did we get to hear about it, then?”

“A Japanese tourist tried to get a photo. The streaker grabbed the camera and carried on running and we had to decide whether to do him for theft. But you know how it is trying to nick a naked man. Not one of the foot patrols answered the shout, so he got away. The camera was recovered later behind a bush in Parade Gardens.”

Unwisely, Halliwell asked if the trip to Bognor had turned up anything.

“Which reminds me,” Diamond said. “You went up to the university and spoke to the professor, right? Did he tell you about the tosser he unloaded on me for the day?”

“Not a word,” Halliwell said.

“Is that the truth?”

“Didn’t you get on, guv?”

“Don’t push me, Keith. I have a strong suspicion you were in on this.”

“In on what? I’m not following you at all.”

He seemed to be speaking sincerely, so Diamond moved on to other matters. “What’s this professor like? I’m going to meet him tonight.”

“Pressure from the Home Office?”

“Could be. All their undergraduate students have to be found placements in their third year for job experience. Some of them go to the Crime Analysis Unit at the Yard.”

“Did he talk about the cases she’s involved in?”

“He was guarded about that.”

“Let’s see if I can catch him off guard tonight.”

He took that shower, and decided on the dress code for a university staff party at a golf club on a summer evening. Cream-coloured trousers, navy shirt and pale blue linen jacket. As a safeguard, he tucked a tie into an inner pocket. Golf clubs could be sniffy about open necks. The shirt was a favourite, made of a fabric that didn’t crease. In the year since Steph had died, he’d scorched a couple of shirts trying to iron them.

It was after eight when he parked his old Cortina in a nice position outside the club, only for some member to point out that he was in the space reserved for the club captain. Tempted to riposte that the captain wasn’t using it, he controlled himself and found another berth. As an extra gesture to conformity, he put on the tie, a sober-looking black one with a repeat design of silver handcuffs, some wag’s bright idea for a birthday gift for a copper.

“You don’t have the look of a trick cyclist,” he told her.

She said, “Can I take that as a compliment?”

“Of course.”

“I’m Tara, the PA.”

“To the boss man, by any chance?”

“He’s the only one of this lot who rates a PA. And who are you?”

“The unlucky cop who took Dr Seton to the seaside today.”

Tara gave the beginning of a smile, and no more. Like every good PA, she was discreet—which Diamond was not.

“After five hours in the car with that weirdo I deserve this drink,” he said, and told her his name. “Which one is Professor Chromik?”

“Over on the right, with his back to us.”

“Frizzy black hair and half-glasses?”

“That’s him. Did he invite you, then?”

“No, but I’m here to talk to him. You must have heard about Dr Emma Tysoe.”

Her features creased. “It wasn’t really Emma?”

“Seton identified her.”

She put her hand to her throat. “None of us thought it was possible. She went missing, but . . . this!”

He was silent, giving her time to take it in.

“And here we are, enjoying ourselves,” she said. “Did you come here specially to tell the professor?”

If the truth were told, he hadn’t. He’d come to ask questions, not pass on the bad news. It hadn’t occurred to him that someone had to tell them, and it was unlikely Seton would have got in touch already. However, it legitimised his presence here. “I intend to break the news to him,” he said as if it had always been his painful duty. “Have you any idea what she was doing down at Wightview Sands?”

She lifted her shoulders a fraction. “Maybe she likes the seaside.”

“Was she on holiday?”

“Not officially. She had this arrangement to take time off to help the police with difficult cases. I expect you know about it. She told us she was on a case. But she usually lets us know where she is. She phones almost every day to check in.”

“But not this time?”

“That was why we got worried in the end. No one had heard from her for something like three weeks. I kept phoning the flat in Great Pulteney Street, but got no reply. I went round there myself one lunchtime and saw a heap of mail waiting for her.”

“Didn’t
anyone
know what case she was on?”

“I assumed she’d told Professor Chromik, but it turned out she hadn’t. He asked me if I’d heard from her.”

“Hush-hush, was it?”

“I couldn’t say. I can’t think why anyone would want to murder her, whatever she was working on. She was only an adviser.”

“What about her personal life? Was there a boyfriend?”

“She never mentioned one. She wasn’t the chatty sort. A lovely person, but she didn’t say much about her life outside the department. Mind, I don’t blame her. They’re a nosy lot. It goes with the subject.”

“Who were her special friends at work, then?”

“Nobody I noticed. She seemed to stay friendly with everyone.”

“Even the ones who had to fill in when she was away?”

“People grumbled a bit. They do when there’s extra work being assigned. A few harsh words were spoken in the last few days.”

“About Emma skiving off, you mean?”

“Well, it could be taken that way, but they’ll be regretting it now. It’s not a reason for murdering anyone, is it?”

“Let’s hope not.”

He drifted away from Tara and stood for a while watching the Behavioural Psychology Department socially interacting. It was not so different from a CID party, the high flyers hovering around the boss while the subversives formed their own subgroups and the touchy-feely element played easy-to-get on the fringe.

In this heated atmosphere the tragic news circulated rapidly. You could see the stunned expressions as it passed around. The moment arrived when Professor Chromik was informed. Frowning and shaking his curly head, he disengaged himself from his colleagues and moved towards the door, perhaps to use a phone. Diamond stepped in fast.

“You’ve just heard about Dr Tysoe, I gather? I’m Peter Diamond, Bath CID.”

The professor’s brown eyes were huge through his glasses. “CID? It’s true, then? Appalling. Do you mind stepping outside where it’s more private?”

They found a quiet spot below a gilt-framed painting of a grey-bearded nineteenth century golfer in plus-fours and cap.

“The whole thing is a mystery, and I’m hoping you can help,” Diamond said. “We’ve no idea why she was at Wightview Sands, or who would have wished to murder her.”

“It’s a mystery to me, too,” Chromik said. “I’m devastated.”

“You must have known why she was away from your department.”

“She was a psychological offender profiler.”

“I know.”

“Well, this is your territory, not mine.”

Diamond recalled Halliwell’s comment about the professor not giving much away. “She’s employed in your department, isn’t she? She has to let you know if she takes time off.”

“She did. She came to see me and said she’d been asked to advise on a case.”

“When was this?”

“Mid June.”

“Can you be more precise?”

“The seventeenth.”

“ . . . to advise on a case. Is that all she said?”

“It was confidential.”

“You mean she told you about the case and you’re refusing to tell me? Confidentiality goes out of the window when someone is murdered.”

Chromik caught his breath in annoyance. “That isn’t what I said. She was not at liberty to speak to me about the matter. I can tell you nothing about it. That’s why I said it’s your territory.”

“You don’t even know who contacted her?”

“No.”

“And you let her go off for God knows how long?”

“Emma was trustworthy. If she said it was necessary to take time off, I took her word for it. She promised to let me know as soon as she was able to return to her normal duties. That was the last I heard.”

He seemed to be speaking truthfully, but the story sounded wrong. Either Emma Tysoe had been tricked, or she’d put one across the professor. If some senior detective wanted the help of a profiler, surely he wouldn’t need to insist on secrecy?

“Are you certain she was honest?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Is it possible she wasn’t working on a case at all, and simply took time off for a few days by the sea?”

Chromik shook his head so forcefully that the black curls quivered. “Emma wouldn’t do that. She valued her profiling work too much to put it at risk with a stupid deception.”

It was said in a way that made Diamond sound stupid for asking. Well, he didn’t have a degree in psychology, but he wasn’t intimidated by this academic.

“I’m trying to throw you a lifeline, professor. Your handling of this tragic episode is going to be questioned, not just by me, but by your superiors, I wouldn’t wonder, and certainly by the press. It sounds as if you let this member of your staff run rings around you.”

“I resent that.”

“It’s not my own opinion,” Diamond said, dredging deep for a word that would make an impact on this egghead. “It’s the perception. Do you know anything about her life outside the university?”

“In what way?”

“Relationships?”

“No idea.”

“Did you appoint her to the job?”

“I was on the appointments committee, yes. We were fortunate to get her. A first class brain, without question one of the most brilliant psychologists of her generation.”

“So where did she come from?”

“She did her first degree in the north. Then she was at one of the London colleges for her Ph.D.”

“I meant her home town, not her college career.”

“I can’t recall.”

“Any family?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You don’t even know where she was brought up?”

“I said I can’t remember. We’ll have details of her secondary education on file somewhere.”

“Is there anyone on the staff who knew her? Anyone she might have confided in?”

“You could speak to one of the women. Before you do I’d better break the news to them all.”

“I think they’ve heard by now.”

“That may be so, but something needs to be said. I’ll make a brief announcement in there.”

“And I’ll add my piece.”

Both men knew the object of this exercise was not really to break the news. By now, the entire room had heard it. Some formula had to be found to allow everyone to remain at the party without feeling guilty.

Back in the room, Chromik called his staff to order and said he had just been given some distressing news. One or two gasps of horror were provided as he imparted it. Without much subtlety, he went straight on to say he believed Emma would have wished the party to continue. There were general murmurs of assent.

Diamond stepped forward and introduced himself, admitting Dr Tysoe’s death was a mystery and inviting anyone with information to speak to him. He said he wasn’t only interested in the circumstances leading up to her murder, but wanted to find out more about her as a person.

As soon as he’d finished, a woman lecturer touched his arm. He was pleased. If one person comes forward, others generally follow.

“I can help with the background stuff. I’m Helen Sparks, and we shared an office.” She spoke with a South London accent. She was black, slim and tall and probably about the same age as Emma had been. Her eyes were lined in green.

He took her to a large leather sofa at the far end. “Thanks. I appreciate this.”

“Like you said, I can talk about Emma as a person. I liked her a lot. She had style.”