‘I said you’d left the building, anyway.’
‘Oh, thanks a bunch.’
‘Not long after, he came downstairs.’
‘Got up from his chair to come looking for me? That’s a first.’
‘He asked me to call you.’
‘What stopped you?’
‘I tried. I kept trying.’ He shot her an apprehensive glance. ‘Is it possible your phone was switched off?’
‘When was this?’
‘Twenty minutes ago.’
‘Ten past six. It could have been. We were dealing with an incident, weren’t we, Stell? Did he say what the flap is about?’
‘No, but he wants to see you the minute you return.’
‘I’d better give him the pleasure, then.’
Stella waited until Hen was out of earshot and then told Gary, ‘The incident was a shortage of cigarillos. We had to find a pub that sold them. You did good, Gary.’
Just when she was resigned to not hearing anything, Jo’s mobile sounded and it was Jake. ‘Me again.’ His voice was strong. ‘I thought I’d better call.’
‘You sound okay,’ she said.
‘I am. It’s all right.’
‘It’s great to hear from you,’ she said. ‘I was spooked when I saw the police car. Are you at home?’
‘Actually, no. On the bus to Chichester. There was a message from Gemma about meeting in the Slug and Lettuce.’
That Gemma! Bloody nerve. ‘Was there indeed?’
‘You’re going to be there, aren’t you?’ Now the anxious note returned to his voice. ‘Gemma said you would.’
‘Em, of course. You bet I am.’
‘We don’t have to… ’
‘Spend the whole evening with them? No. That’s for sure.’
‘See you soon, then?’
‘Quick as I can make it.’
When Hen came back from the ACC’s office, something had changed. She seemed smaller, less jaunty, more thoughtful. ‘Going outside for a smoke,’ she said. ‘No one is to leave. Mother Hen will address you shortly.’
There were some puzzled looks. ‘Trouble?’ one of the newest detectives said.
‘We’ll know soon enough,’ Stella said.
Gary said, ‘Do you reckon she’ll be quick? I was hoping to go off duty. Pompey have an evening match.’
‘I wouldn’t bank on it.’
But in five minutes the boss was back and some nicotine-assisted bounce was back as well. ‘Listen up, people. Things have moved on. Eighteen days after Meredith Sentinel’s body was found, another woman drowned. Why the hell didn’t we find out? You may well ask. Two reasons. First, it looked like an accident. Second, it wasn’t on our patch. It was at Emsworth, over the county border. The woman was floating face down in the water in the Mill Pond, that big stretch where all the swans are. Why am I telling you this? Because the post mortem report is out and the pathologist noticed some pressure marks on the back of her neck and shoulders suggesting she was held under.’
Someone whistled.
‘Just like ours,’ Stella said.
‘Fainter than ours,’ Hen said. ‘The marks, I mean. The victim was wearing clothes, but you can still see bruising. Up to now the post mortem report hasn’t been made public. The incident hasn’t had much publicity, a paragraph on an inside page of the local paper. Our case, as you know, has had plenty of attention. Hampshire Police knew all about it and got in touch this afternoon. The assumption is that the two drownings are connected, that we have a double killing. Clearly it calls for cooperation across the county border. Seeing that our investigation is already under way, Hampshire have agreed to me being SIO in both cases. We’ll have two or three of their detectives on the team, but basically it’s our show. A double murder-unless it’s Sod’s Law that two similar drownings happened within twenty miles of each other.’
‘Sod’s Law?’ Gary Pearce queried softly.
‘Something that can go wrong will go wrong,’ the sergeant behind him said.
Hen had heard and said, ‘AKA Murphy’s law. Isn’t that right, Sergeant Murphy?’
‘Yes, guv,’ Paddy Murphy said, ‘but this should help us.’
‘Right. Good news and bad news,’ Hen said. ‘We’ve doubled our chance of learning something about the killer. But the bad news is that the pressure to make an arrest will more than double. The media will go bananas.’
‘A serial killer,’ Murphy said.
No one doubted this was how the press would portray the news, but Hen was a stickler for accuracy. ‘For my money, Paddy, a killer doesn’t rate as “serial” until he has at least three to his name. And before you tell me he could have killed in the past and no one spotted the signs, I’ve got a little job for you.’
DS Murphy gave a twisted grin, resigned to what was coming.
‘Check the drownings of all adult women in the past five years in Sussex, Hampshire, and adjacent counties. Accidental as well as homicidal. Get hold of the PM reports if you can. Anything remotely similar to these two cases, speak to the coroner.’
‘Do we change our focus now, guv?’ Stella asked.
‘In what way?’
‘I’ve spent a lot of time trying to establish if Dr Sentinel was in St Petersburg for the full three weeks he claimed. He’s unlikely to have killed this second woman as well.’
‘Let’s make no assumptions. How far have you got with the check?’
‘He definitely flew out on the day arranged and back three weeks later. The time between is less certain. He gave his lecture the first weekend. His hotel was paid for by the organisers. The hotel can’t or won’t tell me if his room was in use for the whole of his stay.’
‘Why not? The chambermaid must have noticed.’
‘I think they’re being cagey for their own reasons. If he was absent for some days they may not be entitled to claim full board from the conference people.’
‘God help us. It’s the same the world over-people on the make. Did you get the impression he wasn’t there?’
‘Something dodgy was going on. I’m not sure what.’
‘Keep at it, Stell. We need to know. Coming back to your question, we don’t change focus. Everyone in the frame remains there.’
Gary Pearce asked, ‘Do we know the identity of the Emsworth victim?’
‘Good question, and we do. She’s Fiona Halliday, aged twenty-four, and she couldn’t be more local. The house she rented faces onto the Mill Pond. She was found fifty yards from her front door. Everyone assumed it was an accident until the pathologist reported the marks.’
‘Who found her?’
‘Some old dear who feeds the swans. We can eliminate her as a suspect. Aged nearer to ninety than eighty, I’m told. The interesting thing about Fiona Halliday is that she went missing from work a week before she was found, and so did her boss, named Cartwright. I should explain that Fiona was divorced and had a four-year-old son.’
‘Poor kid.’
‘Yes. When the mother didn’t call in, some of the staff where she worked were worried that she’d collapsed or died and the boy was with her in the house. They’re a good bunch of people by the sound of things. They reported it and a patrol car was sent. The officers forced the door and took a look around. No sign of the child. It’s
