vermin as contemptible as you.'
Such was the force of Hen's words that Johnny didn't even shake his head. He stood like a guardsman, staring ahead. Finally he moistened his lips and said, 'I suppose it's no use saying I'm truly sorry.'
'Save that for Andy and the others. It won't impress me.'
'Are you going to report me?'
'As of now, I'm not even thinking what I'll do about you. There's a killer out there and I'm trying to find the best way through this mess.'
'Do you want me to stand down?'
'What did you say to Basil this morning?'
'This morning?' He took a moment to cast back his thoughts. 'Nothing much. I knew you were closing in, so I didn't want to give too much away. I was telling him how you were looking at the videos again.'
'Did you tell him why?'
'I don't know why. I just heard from Andy that he sat in with you when you watched the Warmington-Smith interview.'
'So have you told Basil about the link with Lord Chalybeate?'
'No.'
You swear it? Can I believe you, Johnny?'
He said with a stricken sigh, 'I don't expect you will.'
Hen studied him for what seemed a long interval. Then she said, 'I'm going to take a huge risk with you. I wish I didn't have to. I'd rather rely on anyone else, but I have no choice. Tomorrow morning, you go for your swim as usual.'
His mouth fell open like a trapdoor.
'And you talk to Basil and I'll tell you what to say.'
Long trips for Parcel Force had meant early starts and late finishes for two days. Late on Thursday evening Bob was catching up with messages left on his answerphone.
Thomasine speaking. Expect you're working. I've had quite a day already. Got something amazing to tell you. I'll try later.'
'Hello, Bob. This is Maurice. Maurice McDade. Just to let you know that the funeral for Amelia — Miss Snow — will be next Monday, at noon, at the crematorium in Westhampnett Road, and, sadly, Jessie's follows on Tuesday at three in the cathedral. Neither of them had much family, so I'm hoping we can get a good turnout of circle members.'
Just me, Thomasine. Time's running out. I was hoping to bring you in on this. I'll try again if there's a chance.'
'Anton Gulliver speaking. I don't know if you have internet access. If you do, you might care to look at this website Naomi Green has created. I've no idea where she gets her information from, but she's regularly broadcasting libellous statements about most of us under the cloak of pseudonyms that are themselves distasteful. Thought you should know, as press officer for the circle.'
'Bob? This is Dagmar. I just wondered if Thomasine is with you. I can't seem to get through to her.'
'Sorry to trouble you, old man. This is Tudor. Anton got through to me earlier about some website Naomi Green is publishing on the internet. Apparently she's been touting me as the fire-raiser and I'm hopping mad. Is she doing this as a private individual, or is it the circle website? Get back to me soon, won't you?'
'Hi. Sharon here. Got another success to report. Catch you later.'
29
www.ChichesterMurderDetectives.com
Latest developments from Naomi Green
An extraordinary twist in the case, thanks mainly to me. Do you remember my visit to the burnt-out ruin of Edgar Blacker's house? I removed a photo from the bedroom wall. The police had left it hanging there, thinking it was unimportant. It showed Blacker with a second man, apparently at a party. On the reverse someone had written 'Innocents, 1982'. This picture is now in the hands of the police and they have identified the second man.
I have to be careful here. The man has an interest in keeping his past a secret. He has changed his name since the 'Innocents' picture. He once owned some men's magazines — the sort that have to be kept on the top shelf — that were edited by Blacker, and
But let's put the spotlight on the second man, although I have to say he gets plenty of attention already. Yes, he's rich and famous. These days he is a highly successful businessman who has made a fortune from the fitness craze, persuading the public to use gyms and equipment he supplies. But that isn't enough for him. He has ambitions for a career in government and is being tipped for a job in the next reshuffle. He wouldn't want his association with Blacker and those smutty magazines being leaked to the press just as he is waiting for a call from Number Ten.
Lord Gym (as I'll call him, because he has a title) was interviewed this week in a London hotel by the Sussex police investigating Blacker's murder. They are looking for a connection with the murders of Amelia Snow and Jessie Warmington-Smith. That old phrase 'helping the police with their enquiries' doesn't entirely fit what happened. He wasn't a lot of help. They want to speak to him again and they are looking for a fuller and more frank account of his association with Blacker. The opportunity will come at the weekend at his country house. Can it be just a coincidence, I ask, that he lives only four miles from Chichester? He'll be there late Friday evening. Expect the police to knock on his door on Saturday morning.
The members of the writers' circle will be relieved to know someone else is taking some of the heat. Not many of them realise who they have to thank.
YOU ARE VISITOR [3896] TO THIS SITE
30
There is no trap so deadly as the trap you set for yourself.
The stake-out was in place. Sixteen officers, uniformed as well as CID, were hidden in and around the grounds of Lord Chalybeate's house in Bosham. All were in radio contact with Hen Mallin, who was in the house directing from an upstairs room. The transport was parked away from the house in the grounds of a school.
The overcast sky was an advantage for those in hiding. Even six-foot-five Duncan Shilling was well concealed in a rhododendron plantation near the main gate. But the conditions would also provide cover for the suspect. It was difficult spotting anyone without the help of moonlight.
In the house, Hen went downstairs to have more words with the housekeeper. Keeping Kate on side was vital. She'd cooperated well considering her future employment was at stake, allowing all these officers to have the run of the house and grounds. Now that the operation was under way it was essential she didn't lose her nerve and try and contact Lord Chalybeate, who hadn't been informed. Poor dear, she was like the teenager who'd thrown a party on the night her parents were coming home.
'Does he call ahead to let you know when he's arriving?'
'Only if he's going to be late.'
