“He’s always hearing confessions.”
“It’s not down to me. It’s the Sussex Inquisition. People like Hen Mallin,” Barneston told Diamond. He had an air of confidence it had taken Diamond twenty years to acquire. “I decided to join you for this. We can be frank with each other, can’t we?”
“Say no more.”
Diamond came under sharp scrutiny from the ice-blue eyes.
Barneston went on, “Bramshill brought me up to speed on your investigation and they tell me you know about the case I’m on. Something of interest may be developing here, so I’d like to hear what Mrs Smith has to say.”
Which wasn’t the Bramshill line at all. Jimmy Barneston shouldn’t be underestimated.
“No problem,” Diamond said cheerfully. “Let’s see if they’re ready for us.”
The sister asked them to keep the questioning to five minutes or less and showed them into the room where Olga Smith lay tubed up, with her head bandaged and cradled in a support. Only her eyes moved, and they were bloodshot. Her right arm was in plaster to above the elbow.
Diamond suggested to Hen, “Why don’t you ask the questions?”
Jimmy Barneston didn’t object.
Hen stepped closer and said who the visitors were. “Olga, we need to know how this happened. Can you remember?”
She mouthed the word “no”. The voice came as a delayed reaction, and feebly.
“Do you have any recollection of anything at all about the day?”
She tried clearing her throat, and something hurt, because she winced. “A little.”
“Do you recall Sergeant Gregson coming to the house?”
“Yes.”
“She told you she’d spoken to your little girl Haley, right?”
“Is Haley-”
Seeing the sudden concern in Olga’s features, Hen said quickly, “She’s fine, perfectly OK. Your sister is looking after her.”
“Ah.” The muscles relaxed a little.
“We’re interested in what happened after my sergeant, Stella Gregson, visited you. I expect you phoned your husband to tell him. Am I right?”
“Yes, I spoke to Mike.”
“Did he come home at once?”
“Yes.”
“You remember?”
“He was upset. Didn’t think it was fair, asking Haley questions.”
“Upset. You mean angry?”
“Yes.”
“So what happened? You seem to have a memory of this. Did you talk at all?”
“Talked, yes. I told him what the policewoman said and what I’d said.”
“And then?”
“He told me he was going away.”
“Where to?”
“Didn’t say. Business things.”
“Was that when he turned violent?”
“Violent?” Olga Smith repeated the word as if it was unknown to her.
“He hit you.”
“No.”
“You don’t remember?”
“Mike didn’t touch me.”
Hen exchanged a glance with Diamond. Was the episode erased from Olga’s memory by the concussion?
“Are you sure of this?”
“He collected some things and left. I saw him drive off.”
Either Olga Smith was fantasising, or this challenged all their theories.
“You’re certain?” Diamond broke into the dialogue. “You watched him drive away? You were OK at that stage?”
“Yes.”
“Did he say where he was going?”
“No.”
“He just walked out? No fight? No violence?”
“I said.”
Out of the range of Olga Smith’s restricted vision, Hen was exchanging disbelieving glances with Jimmy Barneston.
“So what happened next?” Diamond asked.
“Next?” The voice was faint again, as if she was drifting away.
“You were alone in the house, right?”
“That’s right.”
“But you ended up here, in intensive care. You don’t have any memory of being struck on the head? Or breaking your arm?”
She frowned, and a look of panic came into her eyes. Then they closed and her jaw slackened.
Hen said, “I don’t think we’ll get much more.” And as if on cue the sister appeared and ushered them outside.
In the waiting area, Jimmy Barneston said, “What did you make of that?”
“Weird,” Hen said.
“Can we put it down to confusion, or what?”
“She didn’t sound confused. She was very definite. She didn’t blame her husband at all.”
“Are we looking at someone else as the attacker, then? Someone who called at the house after the husband had driven away?”
“Hard to believe,” Hen said.
Diamond was unusually silent. A possible explanation was surfacing, but he needed to check something first. “I’ll be right back.” He left them and returned to the ward.
At his approach the sister stepped protectively forward. “I’m sorry. I said no more questions. She’s had all she can cope with.”
“It’s you I want to speak to,” he said. “When she came in, did you send for her medical records?”
“They’re confidential.”
“Absolutely. But we’re trying to establish whether she was attacked, whether the head injury was caused by someone else, or was accidental. I’m wondering if she’s epileptic.”
“Is this relevant to your investigation?”
“Vital,” he said. “It may well explain the injury, if she suffered a fit.”
“Epileptics don’t very often injure themselves,” the sister said. “They bite their tongues sometimes. This is an impacted blow to the head.”
“She was found beside a table. If her head hit the corner as she collapsed…”
“That’s possible.” She hesitated, and glanced towards the room where Olga Smith was lying. Finally she sighed and said, “Yes, if it helps, I can confirm that Mrs Smith has a history of epilepsy. That’s one more reason why we’re treating her as a special case.”
“Thank you.”
When he passed on the news to the others and they’d had time to absorb it, Hen said, “Who would have thought it?”
Barneston said with a sidewards glance at Diamond that was not too admiring, “He did, obviously.”
She told Diamond, “You could be right about the husband as well. He may not even know his wife is
