“Was it her suggestion to keep the whole thing under wraps?”
“No, that was the SIO’s decision, and I’m sure he’s right. We must protect the two other people the killer named on his list.”
“Are they going to be any safer if it isn’t made public?”
“We’re sure of it. This man, whoever he is, wants his crime sensationalised. He’s picked people in the public domain as his targets. Imagine what the tabloids would make of it.”
“So have you slapped on a D-notice?”
“In effect. The local paper discovered something was afoot and we secured their co-operation. The nationals still don’t know.”
“And the others on this death list?”
“Have been told, of course. They were offered round-the-clock protection, and they’ve taken it.”
“Quite a number are in on this, then?”
“Already more than we would wish.”
An ominous statement. “One more is no big deal, then.”
“You don’t need to know.”
Diamond knew as he spoke what the answer to his next question would be. “So are you about to tell me the same thing your man Cameron was suggesting-that there’s no link between the murders of Axel Summers and Emma Tysoe?”
The answer was laced with scorn. “You can’t compare them. This killer is focused, organised. A controller. Emma herself told us that. He’s got his agenda and he’ll stick to it. He’s not going to put his master plan at risk by strangling her on a public beach. That’s another MO, altogether.”
“It’s cool.”
“That may be, but it leaves far too much to chance. You’re investigating an opportunist killing. This man doesn’t work like that. He’d hate the idea of so many people around, so much outside his control.”
“Just now you said he wants it in the papers.”
“Ah, he’s conceited, yes, a publicity seeker, but he’ll carry out the killings-if his plan succeeds-in an environment he controls. A beach has too much potential for interference.”
Diamond doggedly refused to be steamrollered. “It may be another move in the chess game. If this genius felt his master plan was threatened when Emma Tysoe was called in, wouldn’t he do something about it?”
“But he didn’t know she was involved.”
“How can you be sure? Certain people knew. The SIO and his team presumably. Yourselves. Her professor at the university.”
“He doesn’t know the details of the case.”
“You keep this list of profilers. You said she was the obvious choice.”
“To ourselves, yes.”
“A cunning bastard like this is going to have heard of your list and know she’s the number one choice.”
“Possibly,” he conceded.
“If the killer is as smart as you say he’s going to have a line into the investigation.”
The Big White Chief was quick to say, “So you think you should have a line in as well?”
“We’re on the same side, aren’t we?”
“I’ve told you more than I intended already, and I thought you’d have the experience to see that these killings are chalk and cheese.”
“I’d still like to have the full picture.”
“You’ve got it-apart from names, and they aren’t germane to your enquiry. People’s lives are threatened, Mr Diamond. I don’t suppose you’ve ever worked with a burden like this, knowing that named individuals will die if you make a mistake. Show some sensitivity towards your fellow officers who carry that responsibility.”
Faced with an argument like that, he couldn’t pursue it. He shrugged and said, “I can try.”
“If it’s of any interest you can look at other enquiries she advised on. I don’t mind giving you chapter and verse of those.”
Peter Diamond left Bramshill some time later with a sheaf of photocopied material that he slung onto the back seat of his car. He was unsatisfied and unconvinced.
9
DS Stella Gregson arrived in Crawley soon after ten and was driven to the school in Old Mill Road. She hesitated before knocking on the head teacher’s door. Childhood conditioning never entirely leaves you. Even after the head had introduced them and left them to it, neither Stella nor Miss Medlicott sat in the chair behind the desk, or anywhere. They remained standing.
“I hope this isn’t a waste of your time,” Miss Medlicott said. “All I’ve got for you is secondhand.”
“You don’t have to apologise,” Stella said. “We’re grateful for any information. This comes from a child in your class, I was told.”
“Haley Smith. She’s acted strangely-perhaps nervously is a better word. She drew a picture of a visit to the beach and told me one of the figures on it was a dead lady. I tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t be budged, so I discussed it with the mother when she came to collect Haley. Mrs Smith seemed rather guarded when I spoke to her. The family were at Wightview Sands on the day that poor woman was found, she admitted that. She thought the child must have heard her talking about the incident with her husband and then assumed some sunbather had been the dead woman. But it was a strained conversation, I felt. And I didn’t mention to her something else the child had told me-that her Daddy had been with the lady.”
Stella felt goosebumps prickling her flesh. Suddenly this low-key enquiry took on a new significance. “Haley said that?”
“Yes. And later in the week I had problems getting any response at all from the child. She was acting dumb, or so it seemed to me. One of the other children told me Haley’s daddy had said she wasn’t to speak to me. I tried to talk it over with Mrs Smith at the end of the day, but she was short with me and said it was obviously another misunderstanding, as if it was my fault. I’ve worried about it since, in case Haley did see something dreadful.”
“You did the right thing,” Stella said. “May I speak to Haley?”
“You can try. You won’t get much out of her.”
“Can I see her in the classroom?”
“That would be better than here.”
The children were on their morning break as Miss Medlicott escorted Stella along the covered walkway at the edge of the playground. Stella entered the classroom and the teacher went to find Haley.
The truth, simply stated, has to be used when questioning children. So when the small, dark-haired child was brought in with bowed head and sucking her thumb, Stella invited her to sit in her usual chair and sat beside her and said, “Haley, my dear, I want to talk to you about what happened that day you spent with Mummy and Daddy at the seaside. I’m a policewoman, and you don’t have to worry, because you’re not in trouble. I think you can help me.”
The child’s pale face, framed by the bunched hair, registered only apprehension. She was already shaking her head. Creases had formed around her little mouth.
“A poor lady was killed,” Stella continued, “and it’s my job to find out about it. We don’t want anyone else being killed, do we? Did you see what happened?”
Haley looked up and there was eye contact. She shook her head, gazing steadily, and Stella had to believe her.
“That’s good then. We can talk about other things. I was told you did a lovely painting of your day on the beach. May I see it?”
Haley showed she had a voice. “Miss Medlicott’s got it.”
“So I have. I’ll fetch it,” the teacher said, going to the tall cupboard in the corner.
Stella said, “Why don’t you help Teacher find it?”
It was good for the child to move. She’d been going tense in the chair. In a moment she returned to Stella,
