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‘Was Mrs. Hastings friendly with any of the male golfers?’

‘If you are asking whether she was in a relationship with any of them, no, not that I know of. She was friendly with everyone, male or female. Even after her husband died, she continued supporting the club by attending functions with her son.’

‘I believe Andrew Hastings played golf last Friday, in a competition?’

‘Yes, that’s right, in the winter medal. He came second. Plays off a two handicap, you know.’

Gibbs didn’t have a clue what that meant, and wasn’t about to ask.

‘Yes, it was a pity he couldn’t stay for the dinner and collect his medal.’

Gibbs felt his heart race. ‘Oh, why was that then?’ he asked casually.

‘Apparently one of his children was taken ill, so he had to shoot off home.’

‘Oh dear. What time was that?’ Gibbs continued.

‘I’m not sure exactly. The meal started at five p.m., and I remember asking Michael Blake — he’s one of your chaps, senior officer at Scotland Yard. Do you know him?’

‘Yes. What was it you asked DCS Blake?’

‘Where Andrew was. It was DCS Blake who told me he’d gone home, and why. I gave him Andrew’s runner-up medal so he could pass it on to him. Gosh, you don’t suspect him, do you?’ The major’s eyes widened.

‘No, not at all. Seems he and his mother were very close. Right, that’s all for now. Thanks for your help. We haven’t released any details about Mrs. Hastings’ murder to the press yet, so I’d appreciate it if this conversation remained confidential.’

‘As a fellow officer, you can rely on me, Inspector Gibbs.’ The major saluted.

Gibbs suspected that no sooner had he driven out of the car park that Whitehead would be in the bar boasting to everyone that he was assisting police in a murder investigation. He chuckled to himself at the way the major had inadvertently dropped Andrew Hastings in the proverbial shit, making him a possible suspect in his mother’s murder.

If Sybil Hastings and the unknown victim’s murders were linked, Gibbs was now even more determined to find the connection.

Chapter Six

Many of the back streets in Soho, and in Marshall Street itself, were strewn with piles of rotting rubbish due to the bin men’s strike. Jane was struggling to find a parking space, but eventually squeezed into a space between overflowing rubbish bags. The stench that filled the air as she made her way to the Samaritans branch reminded her of being at a post-mortem.

After ringing the doorbell, Jane was let into the building and approached a smiling young lady sitting behind a desk.

‘I’m afraid all our volunteer listeners are busy at the moment, but if you’d like to take a seat in the waiting room, I’ll get someone to come and see you as soon as I can.’

Jane took out her warrant card and introduced herself to the young lady, who looked embarrassed.

‘I’d like to speak to the manager, please. It’s police business, not personal.’ Jane smiled.

‘We have a leader on duty — I’ll show you to her office.’

After being shown Jane’s ID, the leader shook her hand and invited her to sit down. She was a portly woman in her mid-fifties.

‘How can I help you, Sergeant Tennison?’

‘Does a Mrs. Sybil Hastings work here?’

‘Yes, but she’s not on duty today. Is she in trouble?’

‘I’m sorry to have to inform you that she’s been murdered. I’m part of the investigating team and we’re trying to piece together her last known movements.’

The leader was very distressed. ‘Sybil? Murdered? Are you sure?’

‘Yes, I’m very sorry. Can you tell me when she was last on duty here, please?’

The leader’s hand shook as she opened a calendar that was on her desk. Flicking through the pages, she stopped and looked up at Jane, her voice trembling with sadness as she spoke.

‘It was last Thursday evening. Sybil did a two to eight p.m. shift.’ She closed the calendar.

‘Do you keep a record of the calls Mrs. Hastings dealt with?’ Jane asked.

‘Yes, the details of all the calls we receive are recorded on a Samaritans call logging sheet.’

‘Could I have a look at them, please?’ Jane asked politely.

The leader shook her head. ‘I’m sorry but it’s Samaritans policy to treat all calls as highly confidential. I understand the seriousness of your investigation, but I’m not at liberty to divulge any information to you — unless you have a court order.’

Jane was disappointed but understood the leader’s position. ‘What was Mrs. Hasting’s role with the Samaritans?’

‘Sybil was a listening volunteer. She took phone calls and had one-to-one meetings with drop-in visitors who needed someone to talk to. Like all our volunteers, she was patient, open-minded and a good listener. As a leader I helped train Sybil. She knew never to discuss her conversations with anyone outside the branch.’ The leader’s eyes welled up as she spoke of her colleague.

‘How long had she been a volunteer?’

‘About eighteen months now. She did a four- or six-hour shift per week, depending on what time of day it was. Every volunteer also commits to one unsociable shift a month — working late at night, or the early hours of the morning.’

‘You mentioned dealing with drop-in visitors. Did Mrs. Hastings see anyone on Thursday?’

‘I’ll need to check the callers log, but as I said, I can’t give you any details if she did. To be honest, we don’t get as many visitors as we do callers.’ The leader stood up and went over to a filing cabinet. She unlocked it and removed a file, which she put down on the desk. Sitting down, she opened the file and removed a few sheets of paper, which were clearly call logs.

‘She had no drop-in meetings that day, but she dealt with several calls.’

Jane asked when Mrs. Hastings had last dealt with a visitor and was told it was just over a week ago.

‘Was it a male or female?’

The leader put the paperwork back into the folder. ‘I’m not supposed to say, but it was a male, aged in his twenties, who didn’t give his name.’

‘Would a Samaritan ever meet up with someone away from the branch?’

‘No, they shouldn’t. But I suppose it’s possible... I’m sorry I’ve not been able to help you much. I would love to give you the information you have asked for, especially if it will help your investigation, but I hope that you can appreciate our rules of confidentiality. What I will do is prepare a folder containing a copy of everything Sybil has dealt with in the last three months. Then, as soon as you have a court order, I’ll hand it over to you. Often callers and visitors don’t give us their names, or they use a false name.’

Jane was frustrated. It was clear that the only way she could get the information she needed was if everything was done by the book.

On her return to Peckham, Jane went to see Moran about her visit to the Samaritans. As she updated him, she thought he looked tired.

‘Shall I get a court order for disclosure of Sybil Hastings’ Samaritans work?’ Jane asked.

‘It sounds as though we could be chasing a dead end if the callers give false names, or none at all.’

‘There are probably a lot of mentally ill people who call them, so her work with the Samaritans might be linked to her murder,’ Jane remarked.

‘There’s lots of “ifs and buts,” Jane. Gibbs will be back from the golf club soon, so hold off on the court order until I’ve spoken with him. In the meantime, go through the completed house-to-house reports for anything that needs following up or might help progress the investigation.’