He walked around the car, making sure that no one else came near. It was parked in the hospital car park, vehicles on either side. One of them, a late-model Range Rover, the other, a Toyota Camry. Neither of the cars was of any importance.
The team arrived from Plymouth. Doherty showed them the car. Photos were taken from every angle. The driver of the Range Rover returned, Doherty asking him to be careful as he backed out from his parking space. The driver of the Toyota was a visitor to the hospital; his child in for appendicitis. He moved it soon enough. With the area clear around the car, the forensics team commenced some checks.
‘We’ll be more thorough once we get back to Plymouth,’ the senior forensic scientist said. ‘We’ve been told how important this vehicle is. We’ll check for fingerprints here on the outside, anything else we can find.’
The activity around the vehicle soon attracted a few onlookers. Doherty found a couple of uniforms to come and keep people at a distance. Just over two hours later the vehicle was loaded up onto the flatbed of a truck. It was chained, and a plastic cover put over it.
Doherty knew it was going to be a long night. He wanted to be there in Plymouth when it was checked. Before leaving, he went back into the hospital to tell Diane Connolly what was going to happen.
‘I don’t want to see it’, she said. ‘If what you say is true, the thought of it upsets me.’
‘It’s had a rough life,’ he said.
‘It got me from here to there. Always started, even on a frosty night.’
‘Are you single?’ Doherty asked. He thought he was a little premature but what the heck. Life was too short.
‘I’m too busy for relationships.’
‘Next week, I’d like to ask you out as you’ve been helpful.’
‘Is that normal police practice, taking out everyone who helps?’
‘Is that a yes or no?’
‘It’s maybe. Depends on whether I’m busy or not.’
‘I’ll take that as a yes.’
‘You’re sure of yourself.’
‘No time like the present.’
‘As you said,’ she agreed.
***
Armstrong found Hamish in the garden at the rear of the mansion. He was sitting down on a chair next to the pool.
‘You’ve dealt with it?’ Hamish said.
‘Easier than I thought.’
‘Take a seat, help yourself to a drink. Any problems?’
‘Nothing that I couldn’t handle.’
‘Good man. The other matter?’
‘Your friend at the Stag?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘He and his inquisitive friend won’t be causing any more distress.’
‘Samantha intends to move out here on a more regular basis,’ Hamish said. ‘I like the way she thinks. She wants to make everything legitimate, get out of crime altogether.’
‘The retainers you’re being paid by the others?’
She wants to come to an agreement with them. A one-off payment.’
‘Isn’t that what the Mafia did in America, go legit?’
‘You can’t fight the law forever. They’re like the Inland Revenue; one day they’ll catch up with you for the tax you haven’t paid. And no matter how smart you are, one day you’ll slip up, and it’ll be the police at the door, handcuffs at the ready.’
Armstrong thought that maybe he had slipped up. Palmer was back in that barn. He’d need to go out there every so often to make sure the man was fed, to make sure his bindings were tight. Too tight or too loose, both had an inherent risk.
The man could squirm, tighten the bindings, stop the circulation to his legs or his arms, even kill himself. Or there was a risk that the ropes would loosen.
‘If Samantha’s here, what’s my position?’ Armstrong asked.
‘Nothing changes. She’ll be here three days a week and then go back to her house. She’s still got Fergus Grantham. It appears she’s lining up someone else to take on as a partner in one of her business ventures.’
‘New lover?’
‘Probably not. Samantha’s smart, she knows what she’s doing. More capable than I was, I’ll have to admit to that. I’m more brawn than brain.’
Armstrong left the man on his chair and went back up to his place above the garage. He sat down, considered the options, wished he had Samantha’s brain capacity.
He thought it through. On the one hand, if he freed Palmer, the man might be able to kill Samantha, but on the other, if the man were caught, he’d talk.
And if he succeeded in killing Samantha, he’d be free. Even Palmer wouldn’t have the sense to hang around for long; or would he? The man could end up back in his old house in Oxford and then what? The police would have him in the interview room.
Armstrong went downstairs, got into the Mercedes and backed out of the garage. Hamish wouldn’t miss him for a few hours.
Chapter 30
It was good that Diane Connolly didn’t want her old Subaru back, Mike Doherty thought. Due to the seriousness of the crime and the lack of evidence, the forensics team were putting in a special effort. The outside of the car had been checked in detail, nothing found other than Diane Connolly’s fingerprints on the driver’s side. That wasn’t unexpected, as it had been a chilly morning and Samantha Matthews was likely to have been wearing gloves. Inside was checked as well; yet again, no fingerprints. The seats were carefully removed, as were the carpets.
Jim Greenwood had asked the forensics team to look out for stray hairs.
‘We know what we’re doing,’ a gruff reply. Greenwood had come across this before: degree-educated, thought themselves better than a police officer with a couple of GCEs to his credit. ‘There are hairs in the car, we know
