He paused as a second diver surfaced. "According to her, the body's wedged under the boardwalk. That was the obligatory first phase of the construction. Rebuilding the dilapidated towpath in return for the right to convert the school. Supports were driven in to carry the pathway, and she put James in behind them."
"At six o'clock on an April evening?" said Deacon in disbelief. "It would have been broad daylight."
"She didn't do it then." Harrison drew heavily on his cigarette, sheltering it from the wind with his coat lapel. "She left James dead at the bottom of the stairs and drove to Kent in a state of shock, expecting the police to be waiting for her when she got there. When they weren't, she began to calm down and realized she'd either have to confess to the murder or get rid of the body. She came back at two o'clock in the morning while her mother was asleep and disposed of it then."
Deacon was watching Amanda while Harrison spoke. "How? She's no Arnold Schwarzenegger, and she must have been working in the dark."
"She's a resourceful woman," said Harrison, "and she brought a flashlight with her from her mother's house. As far as I can make out, she rolled him onto an old door and used the lever principle and a pile of breeze blocks to raise the door high enough to slide him into a wheelbarrow. The plan was to tip him off the boardwalk into the river and hope that when his body washed up further down, his death would be put down to a tragic accident. But she was tired, couldn't control the barrow properly and the whole thing tipped over this side of the walkway." He gestured towards the shrubs on the left-hand side. "Six years ago there was a two-yard gap where the bank had eroded, so rather than go through the whole palaver with the door and the breeze blocks again, she launched the body headfirst through the gap, assuming it would be sucked out into the main stream."
"But it wasn't?" asked Deacon when he didn't go on.
Harrison shrugged. "He never surfaced, so she thinks he must have got snagged on one of the supports, and was then buried under the ballast and cement that the builders tipped in to fill the gaps along the boardwalk."
"Wouldn't they have seen the body?"
"She says she came back on the Monday morning to check, and there was no sign of it. After that, she thought it was just a matter of time before one of us knocked on her door and told her that, far from absconding, James had been dead for weeks."
"But it never happened?"
"No. She's a jammy bitch."
"If he's under a ton of ballast, what are the divers expecting to find?"
"Anything to indicate she's telling the truth. They're looking for metallic objects, his Rolex watch, belt buckle, shoe studs, buttons, even his fly. If they find them, we start digging out the ballast looking for the poor sod's skeleton."
Deacon glanced across at Amanda again. "Why wouldn't she be telling the truth?''
"No one understands why she's suddenly decided to come clean. She has every chance of walking away from the de Vriess murder because Barry's evidence of rape means she can plead self-defense. We're still working on proof of premeditation but we're having very little success. There's no record of any phone calls, no trace of her car in Dover, and if Nigel ever visited Sway then no one saw him here." He jerked his chin towards the river. "So why give us this for free? What does she expect to achieve by it?''
"A clear conscience?" suggested Deacon.
Harrison dropped his butt to the grass and ground it out with his toe. "You're a romantic, Mike. This is the end of the twentieth century, and people don't have consciences anymore. They have clever solicitors instead. Do you seriously think Amanda would have told us about James if she hadn't been charged with Nigel's murder?" He shook his head. "The pressure's been building up on her to account for James's disappearance, and she can't afford two separate trials for two separate murders. She might be found innocent once, but never twice, and the last thing she wants is for us to unearth James after she's beaten the de Vriess verdict. I'm betting there won't be enough of him left to show how he died, and she wants an assurance before she goes to court that there'll be no more charges pending. What price conscience then, eh?"
Deacon didn't answer immediately, and they stood in silence watching the police industry in the river. "How did she find out it was Nigel who sent her the photocopy about the fraud?'' he asked then.
"He rang to offer his sympathy after James disappeared, and mentioned it then. He said he wanted to warn her that James might be arrested but couldn't do it officially because of his position on the board. She denies your theory about him having a hold over her," he went on. "She says Nigel knew nothing about James's death, and claims their relationship had always been amicable until he forced his way into her house and raped her."
Deacon gave a low laugh which was whipped away by the wind. "She can't say anything else, not if she wants to plead self-defense."
Harrison eyed him curiously. "Why are you so keen to prove it wasn't?"
"I'm not anymore."
"I don't follow."
Deacon trod his own butt into the ground. "I'm only interested in her admission that she killed James. As far as Nigel's concerned, I'd say he got what he deserved whether he raped her once or a hundred times."
"But you're damn sure it was the latter."
"Yes." He thrust his hands into his pockets to keep them warm. "I think he owned her body and soul because he knew she'd murdered her husband. I've spoken to Lawrence's partner and he describes de Vriess as an animal. He says Nigel wouldn't have hesitated to abuse a woman he had a hold over." He lifted an amused eyebrow. "Look, there had to be some reason for the bastard's murder. You may believe she killed two men in accidental self-defense, but I don't. I think she's probably been planning how to get rid of Nigel for the last six years, but when John Streeter phoned to announce a change of tactics it was the push she needed. It's one thing to be the butt of libelous press releases that no sensible editor has ever touched with a barge pole, quite another to sit idly by while people you fear form alliances on the advice of a journalist."
Harrison made a wry face. "Where's the evidence? Justice isn't served by idle speculation."
"It is in this case," countered Deacon amiably. "Justice was served the minute she admitted to killing James, and you can thank Billy Blake for that. He's the one who persuaded her to talk."
"You're not going to tell me she killed him as well?"
"No. Billy died of self-neglect."
"What's your theory on why Nigel gave Billy her address?"
"He didn't. Nigel was abroad the last two weeks in May." He thought back to the bitter woman who had spilled her heart out to him a few days before. "It was Fiona who told Billy how to find Amanda."
God knows, I hate her ... She's ruined my life ... Nigel and I were divorced because of her, and now she's killed him ... Yes, I did tell that old tramp where she lived ... He was completely mad ... He said he was an instrument of God ... And then he asked for her address ... Did it worry me that I was sending a madman after her?... Not in the least. It amused me ... Oh, I've always known where she was and what she was calling herself ... I'd have been mad not to...
There was sudden activity in the water as a diver surfaced and gestured excitedly to the watchers on the bank. Harrison moved forward with the group of policemen, leaving Deacon free to cross the twenty-yard gap that separated him from Amanda Powell. She was watching him, not the river, and he felt the pull of her attraction just as he had the first time he met her.
He often wondered why he didn't go to her.
Instead, he retraced his steps up the slope without a backward glance.
THE STREET, FLEET STREET, LONDON EC4
Lawrence Greenhill
23 Wharf Way