Looks were exchanged around the room.
‘Get on with it, man.’
‘This may or may not be significant… guv.’
‘Spit it out, or we’ll never know.’
‘I interviewed Ms Pearsall yesterday morning.’
‘I know.’
‘DC Smith just said she was too upset to work last night.’
‘Correct.’
‘Then it is possible that the interview with me was instrumental.’
Smiles all round the room, unappreciated by Dawkins.
‘Conceivably being questioned as a suspect caused her some alarm and she decided to stay away.’
‘It can’t be discounted,’ Diamond said, adding with a straight face, ‘and I can understand how it might have happened. Not all of you know this. Fred was the officer who made the first contact with the theatre after getting a report of the injury from A & E. This Denise isn’t answering the phone or her doorbell this morning.’
‘Has she done a runner?’ Leaman said.
‘We’ll find out. The theatre is playing it down, not wanting us to get involved. They can’t stop us if she’s gone missing.’
‘Bit strong, guv,’ Ingeborg said. ‘She phoned in only yesterday afternoon.’
‘Acting suspiciously.’
‘Can we get a warrant?’ Leaman asked.
‘What for?’
‘To search the house.’
‘We wouldn’t get one. We don’t have anything on her for sure,’ Ingeborg said.
‘We treat her as any other missing person,’ Diamond said, ‘ask around, find out her movements. See if she runs a car and if she does we put out an all-units order to trace it. That’s your job, Keith, with help from Paul. We also step up the pressure on the hospital, insist on getting a statement from Clarion. Inge, you and I will go there together. And it’s high time the hospital lab reported on the traces of make-up on the towel. I’ll give them a rocket at Frenchay. We’ll get our own analysis done by forensics. Not that they’re any quicker, but they know what they’re up to.’
Another bout of throat-clearing came from Dawkins.
‘Ah, Fred,’ Diamond said, thinking rapidly to keep this short. ‘You’re going to ask me what I want from you. You’re confined to barracks, for reasons we discussed. Can you use a computer?’
‘Use?’ Dawkins said as if he’d never heard the word.
‘Like work the keyboard.’
‘That much I gleaned.’
‘So the answer is yes?’
‘One’s keyboard performance is accurate, but not the quickest,’ Dawkins began. ‘At the most basic level -’
‘Spare us that. The civilian staff will help you. Get Denise’s statement on file, and Shearman’s. When anything else comes in, every item relevant to the investigation, see that it gets into the system. You’re acting as receiver. That’s a key post, so don’t let me down.’
Fred Dawkins looked apprehensive and said no more.
Frenchay Hospital, north-east of Bristol, was developed in the grounds of an eighteenth-century estate. Grand Georgian buildings have been adapted to medical needs and sit among functional wards and corridors. Diamond hadn’t phoned ahead to announce his visit. He had the impression that informality was going to work best. The burns unit was easy to locate and Clarion’s private ward was just as obvious thanks to a grey-uniformed security man seated outside.
Diamond showed his ID and the guard picked up his mobile phone.
‘Is that necessary? We’ll just go in.’
‘She’s with someone,’ the man said. ‘I’ll have to clear it.’
He was about to push past when Ingeborg touched his arm. ‘She may be having treatment, guv.’
‘Is she?’ he asked the guard.
‘I’m checking now.’
The upshot was that the ‘someone’ came out and she didn’t appear to be a doctor or a nurse. She was in a black suit with red tights and patent leather shoes. Her hair was dark, with red streaks, and she wore black shades with a retaining chain. To Diamond’s eye, she was in her forties, confident and businesslike. ‘You’d better not be press,’ she said.
Considering that the guard had already said they were police, this was not a good beginning.
Diamond held up his ID again and introduced Ingeborg. ‘And who are you?’
‘Tilda Box, Clarion’s agent. She’s not seeing anyone.’
‘Why? Has she gone blind?’
Tilda Box pursed her lips. ‘There’s no need to be facetious. She’s suffering from third degree burns and severe shock. She’s been through a traumatic experience and she’s far too distressed to have visitors.’
‘We’re not visitors,’ he said. ‘We’re on an investigation.’
‘That’s being taken care of.’
‘Who by?’
‘Private inquiry agents employed by her insurance people. You’re not needed here.’
Staying civil with this lady wasn’t easy. ‘It’s not a private matter, Ms Box. It appears a criminal offence was committed Monday evening and we have a duty to investigate.’
She folded her arms. ‘Speak to me, then. I’m aware of all the facts.’
‘We’ll speak to Miss Calhoun.’
‘I told you. She’s not speaking to anyone.’
‘She’s spoken to you, apparently, or you wouldn’t be aware of all the facts. Are you going to step aside, or do we charge you with obstructing the police?’
‘That’s blatant intimidation,’ she said, and then, as the last words sank in, capitulated. ‘For God’s sake. Wait here. I’ll see what state she’s in.’
‘No need,’ Diamond said. ‘We’re going straight in. Inge, you go first.’
Tilda Box was incandescent, but stopped short of wrestling with them. Inge went through two sets of swing doors, turned and gestured to Diamond and he followed her into a large room and got his first sight of Clarion Calhoun. He was prepared to find a figure swathed in bandages with apertures for the eyes and mouth. Not so. The patient wasn’t bandaged and wasn’t in bed. Dressed in a white bathrobe, she was in an armchair looking at television. Her face, neck and what was visible of her chest appeared to be coated in a yellowish ointment or healing agent. To be fair, the damage to her skin was evident, flakes of tissue hanging from raw burns. She tugged at her long, blonde hair to screen her face from the intruders. ‘Who are you?’
Diamond showed the ID and introduced Ingeborg.
‘I’m not speaking to the police,’ Clarion said. ‘Tell them, Tilda.’
The agent had come into the room behind them. Diamond swung around and said, ‘Out.’
‘I absolutely refuse to leave you alone with her,’ Tilda Box said.
‘You can absolutely get lost, or I’ll absolutely do you for wilfully obstructing a police officer.’
He had Tilda’s measure. She quit the room without another word.
‘Now, Clarion,’ he said. ‘I take it you didn’t do this to yourself, so it’s our job to find who is responsible.’
She appeared to think about playing dumb. There was a lengthy pause. Then she couldn’t resist saying from behind the hair, ‘The theatre is responsible and we intend to sue.’ The voice was easy on the ear. She would have got by as Sally Bowles.
‘It may not be so simple,’ he said.
‘Explain.’
‘If someone wanted to harm you, they’re mainly to blame.’
Startled, she let go of the hair and turned, giving them a front view of her damaged face and neck. Skin has a marvellous capacity for healing, but it was hard to imagine that the scarring would ever disappear. ‘Nobody wants to harm me. That’s ridiculous. This is a clear case of negligence. They used some defective product that ruined my skin. These are chemical burns.’
‘I doubt if any cosmetics firm would sell a product as harmful as that.’
‘In case you’re not aware of it, the doctors here are world experts and they’re treating me for burns.’
‘I’m not arguing with that. I’m saying we don’t know how the make-up got to be so dangerous. Was something added to it? That’s what we need to find out.’