The Circle

She soon discovered what escapes most visitors, that however attractive are the large properties along the shoreline, there are even more splendid residences inland and to the east. Here, with the help of a postman, she found the Chalybeate house. To describe it as a 'barn conversion', as The Bodybuilder had, was to do it an injustice. Maybe it had started as a barn, but it had been transformed into something on a grander scale, with a drive and outbuildings, all set back from the road in wooded grounds.

She saw this through tall wrought-iron gates incongruously set into a low wall that could easily be stepped over. Not that she planned to explore the house this afternoon. The purpose of the trip was to locate the place.

As she turned away, a small red Fiat drove up to the gate. The woman inside put down her window.

'Were you looking for someone?'

'Lord Chalybeate, actually,' Thomasine said. 'It doesn't look as if he's home.'

She was friendly enough. She looked about Thomasine's age, with black, frizzy hair. 'He isn't, and he won't be, I'm afraid. I'm Kate, the housekeeper.'

'He doesn't know me,' Thomasine said, giving her name. Then she thought up a pretext for being there. 'I'm a local teacher. Not Bosham. Chichester. I'm trying to set up new projects for the girls, interviewing local celebrities.'

'You'd better make an appointment. He's in London through the week. Only comes down weekends. But I'd better warn you he doesn't like people coming here. This is his getaway place.'

Thomasine's eyebrows pricked up. 'Ooh. Like that, is he?'

'No, not like that. He's always alone.'

'I'm with you. Just likes to chill out?'

Kate the housekeeper laughed. 'The opposite. He's straight into the sauna when he gets here. Well, he would be› wouldn't he? Got to test the products.'

Thomasine had to think a moment before guessing that saunas were supplied by Chalybeate Fitness, or whatever his company was called. 'So if I came back Saturday. . '

'After phoning for an appointment.'

Thomasine thanked her and drove back to Chichester.

Hen Mallin had called the murder investigation team to an eight a.m. meeting, so they assumed she had something important to announce. She'd not been seen in the police station before nine up to now.

The meeting was brief.

She arrived precisely on time and started without even a 'good morning'.

'I shouldn't need to say this. These meetings are in confidence. Everything that goes on in this nick is in confidence. Anyone in breach of that confidence isn't fit to be in the police, let alone CID. So listen up and then button up.'

Looks were exchanged. Tensions were running high in the team. Hen's efforts to identify the leaker had upset almost everyone.

'I'm confident of arresting the arsonist before the end of this week. I'm ninety per cent sure who it is. The next stage is to bring them out of the woodwork.'

'Them?' Johnny Cherry said. 'My theory was right? Two people working together?'

'I used the word 'them' to avoid saying 'him' or 'her'.'

'Do you have to be so mysterious?'

She said with measured emphasis, 'In the circumstances, yes.'

Nobody chose to take her up on this.

'As I was about to say, the next stage is to bait a trap. You'll all be involved and it's going to mean at least one late night, so keep yourselves free.'

'Do we have a breakthrough?' DC Shilling asked.

'Were you listening, Duncan?'

'Sorry, guv.'

'That's all.'

Not much of a meeting. Insubordination was in the air.

She called across the room, 'Johnny. A word in my office.'

DI Cherry shrugged and grinned at his colleagues, quite willing to fan the flames. He was one of the lads these days.

But with the door closed behind him and only Hen for company he took a different line. 'Good idea, keeping that lot in suspense.'

'You think so?'

'Who are we talking about?'

She wasn't drawn. 'I notice, Johnny, that your hair is damp.'

'Always is, this time of day'

'Your morning swim?'

'Right.' He attempted a mild dig. 'Normally it's dry by the time you come in.'

'Which is why I'm here this early today. I wanted to be certain. Where do you do this swimming?'

He paused before answering. 'The Westgate Centre.'

'Each morning?'

'Yes.'

'You know what's coming, don't you?'

He shook his head, but his eyes gave a different answer.

'It took me a while to work out,' Hen said. 'Time I should have been spending on the trail of the arsonist. Instead I was doing something I deeply resent, forced to question the loyalty of my own team, probing their statements, accounting for every action, looking for Naomi Green's source. Finally I listened again to one of the witness interviews and made the connection.'

Johnny assumed an air of executive solidarity, one SIO in sympathy with another.

'He mentioned it in passing,' Hen went on, 'how he sets his alarm for an early start. He's there at the Westgate Centre, doing his lengths just like you, every day before eight. Basil Green.'

A muscle flexed in Johnny's right cheek, but he made no comment.

Hen wasn't expecting him to put up his hand. She said,'I wouldn't know how long this has been so, but I've no doubt you two exchange a few words in the changing room. He's friendly and there's a topic you both have an interest in: this investigation.'

All the colour had drained from Johnny's face.

'All this time,' Hen said, 'I was thinking one of my team was passing information to Naomi. I forgot Basil. He's easy to forget. Even Naomi ignores him most of the time, but I bet she listens when he tells her what he learned from you at the pool.'

Now his shoulders sagged, and he made a visible effort to brace them.

Hen continued in the same measured tone, holding down her fury. 'When I realised it was you, I asked myself if it was carelessness, stupidity really, thinking your friendly chats with Basil weren't doing any harm. I wish it were so. But this is the real world and you're an experienced detective. You knew it would get back to Naomi and you knew she was writing these case notes, or whatever she calls them, on the internet. Johnny, you were acting out of spite, deliberately undermining my investigation.'

He held his hands open in appeal. He had to deny it. 'No.'

'Shut up. I haven't finished. You made it clear from the day I stepped into this nick that you were stropped off. Fair enough, being replaced as SIO was hard to take. You were entitled to feel let down, humiliated even, and the fact that I'm a woman made it harder. I knew better than to expect a hundred per cent from you. What I didn't expect was betrayal. I didn't think anyone on the team would breach security as you did.'

'It wasn't deliberate.'

'It was. There was stuff appearing on that website that you'd passed on to Basil. I was troubled about it. You knew I laid into Andy Humphreys, assuming he was the rat. One of your mates was getting it in the neck because of something you'd done, and what did you say? Sweet fuck all. To call you a rat is to insult rats. I can't think of any