under way again.
Hen wasn’t wasting words. ‘What do you drive?’
Rick said, ‘An E Class Mercedes.’
‘On the street outside?’
‘Yes.’
‘The keys, please.’
‘Just a moment, officer,’ the lawyer said with a smile at Hen’s apparent naivety. ‘You can’t do that. My client is assisting with your enquiries. If you want the power to search his vehicle, you’ll have to arrest him.’
‘Is that the way you want to play it?’
‘Why do you need to search my car?’ Rick asked.
‘I believe Sally Frith was drowned in her own swimming pool and then transported to Apuldram and put in the pool in Mr Cartwright’s garden.’
‘And you think I did this?’ Some outrage showed in Rick’s response. Not enough for Hen’s liking.
‘If you did, there will be traces in your car. You can prove you didn’t by allowing us to make a forensic examination.’
The solicitor put a restraining hand on Rick’s arm. ‘I don’t advise it.’
‘I’ve nothing to hide,’ Rick said.
‘Let me put it this way,’ the solicitor said. ‘Impressed as I am with our estimable forensic science service and its painstaking methods, one hears of the occasional mistake being made through no one’s fault, of course, and leading to a wrongful conviction.’
‘Have it your way,’ Hen said without rising to the sarcasm. ‘Richard Graham, I am arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything-’
‘Hang on,’ Rick interrupted, swinging to face his adviser. ‘If they do that, they can take my DNA and fingerprints and I’m on their bloody database for the rest of my life.’ He pulled the car keys from his pocket and and tossed them across the table to Hen. ‘You won’t find jack shit. Sally never even had a ride in my car.’
The solicitor said, ‘You could regret this.’
‘Get lost.’
The man was on his feet at once. ‘If that’s how you feel, Mr Graham, I’ll take you at your word. Find someone else.’
Hen groaned.
Another delay.
The rain had eased, so Jo had put on her Wellington boots and was striding through the puddles. Ahead were a barrier and a sign that the road was closed to traffic. It was no mystery why this valley flooded. To her right rose the great chalk hill called the Trundle, a favourite viewpoint. Left of her, purple-grey, with low cloud obscuring the highest point, a wooded stretch of the South Downs, the most significant upland range in Sussex.
From behind her the tinny notes of Colonel Bogey sounded.
She jerked the backpack from her shoulder and fumbled among cartons of milk and packs of sandwiches, found the phone and put it to her ear.
‘Darling, is that you?’ It was her mother’s all-too-familiar strident voice.
Jo almost slung the thing into the floodwater. ‘Hi.’
‘You don’t sound like your usual self. Are you keeping dry in this dreadful weather?’
‘More or less. Can I call you back later?’
‘Your father and I have been worried out of our minds about you. What’s going on, Jo? Your name’s in the paper again.’
‘Pure bad luck, Mummy. No need to be alarmed.’
‘But this is an appalling case, by the sound of it. All these drowned women, and the man still at liberty. I don’t know how it happened, but you seem to be up to your neck in it.’
Not the happiest choice of phrase. She was already up to her shins in it.
‘Don’t trust anyone,’ Mummy ranted on. ‘You’ve got that mobile phone with you? Well, obviously you have.’
‘I’ll use it if necessary.’
‘No, I’m telling you, Jo darling, that these fancy phones are a mixed blessing. You take a call from someone and you have no way of knowing where he is. He could be lying in wait round the next corner and you think he’s speaking from miles away.’
‘I’ll bear it in mind, Mummy. Must go. ’bye.’ She switched off.
Immediately, it rang again.
Give it a rest, Mother, she thought. ‘Yes?’
‘Jo?’ This time it really was the voice she hoped to hear.
‘Jake, I thought you were someone else. I’ve been trying to reach you. Did they let you go?’
‘For now.’
‘Thank God for that.’
‘They still don’t trust me.’
She sidestepped that. ‘When was this? Last night?’
‘I didn’t call you from home. They can listen in.’
She was about to point out that nothing he could say would incriminate either of them, and then thought better of it. Wouldn’t anyone feel paranoid after hours of questioning? ‘Are you at home?’
‘No, I came to work.’
‘What’s it like there after the rain?’
‘Not very different.’
God, she’d been aching to hear his voice and now they were talking banalities. ‘When can I see you, Jake? Tonight?’
A pause. ‘I’d like that. I’ll come to you.’
‘Some of the roads are impassable.’
‘Not on a bike. Did you get in to work?’
‘Yes, but we just closed the shop. I could do with your dinghy right now. I’m on a mercy mission, walking- well, wading-into Singleton to see if an old lady is all right. She’s Gemma’s aunt.’
‘Be careful.’
‘Would you mind calling Gem and telling her I’m checking on Aunt Jessica? Saves her coming out from Fishbourne.’
After the call she was so much happier that she burst into ‘Singin’ in the Rain.’
Out at Bosham, a crucial find was made. Leaving nothing to chance this time, Stella called the incident room while Hen was arranging for Rick’s car to be taken away.
‘Boss, the crime scene people are saying there’s a strong chance Sally was attacked here, in the shallow end of the pool. They picked up quite a clump of hair that was pulled out at the roots, and I’m certain it matches the colour of hers. There was also the tip of a broken fingernail.’
‘Was there? Two of her nails were damaged for sure. This could clinch it, Stell. If she was driven to Apuldram, we’re going to find traces in someone’s car. You can’t move a corpse without leaving something behind.’
‘You can clean up a car.’
‘That in itself would be suspicious. Besides, how many of our suspects have transport? Jake rides a bike. Dr Sentinel uses the train to get here. Cartwright’s car is already impounded.’
‘What about Francisco?’
‘He’s out of the reckoning.’
‘That leaves Rick.’
The logistics interested Hen more at this moment. ‘I’m thinking about how it was done. Actually, when it was done.’
‘Is that important?’
