“A French family to our right. Parents and three small children. And to our left, three girls in their teens.”
Tourists and teenagers. He doubted if any of them would come forward as witnesses. “You seemed to suggest just now that the woman spoke to you at some stage of the day.”
“Yes, it was when I went down to the sea to collect Haley. We were going to eat some sandwiches for lunch. Haley and I had a little race up the beach and I was some way behind. The woman said she wished she had such energy, or some such. That was all.”
“But she seemed relaxed?”
“I thought so. And I can’t remember any more about her until later when we had a crisis of our own, with Haley going missing after Mike and I had been for a swim. I was asking people if they’d seen her, but the woman looked as if she’d been asleep for hours, so I didn’t disturb her.”
“Definitely asleep?”
“Well, how can you tell? I didn’t look closely to see if she was breathing, or anything.”
Hen asked a question. “Who was it who found Haley?”
“The lifeguard. I saw him holding her hand and I thought for a moment he was abducting her.”
“Which lifeguard?”
“He was the only one I saw. No hair, or very little. Very muscular. Australian, by his accent.”
Hen nodded and murmured to Diamond, “Emerson.”
Diamond resumed. “So you got your child back, and she was the one who noticed that the tide had reached the woman?”
“Yes. We couldn’t see all of her but her legs were poking out of the windbreak and it was obvious she wasn’t moving. Mike went to look, and you know the rest.”
“He alerted the lifeguard?”
“They carried her-Mike and the lifeguard and a couple of young blokes-over the stones to one of the beach huts and put her in there. Then we left. That’s all I can tell you, I think.”
He said in a mild, almost dismissive tone, in consideration to young Haley, “Obviously you know she was strangled at some stage of the afternoon. You didn’t notice anyone else with her?”
“Nobody. Didn’t hear anything or see anything. It must have happened while we were swimming. That’s all I can think.”
“So the last time you saw her alive was just before you had your lunch?”
“Yes, about one-thirty, I think.”
He thanked her, and looked to Hen to see if she had anything to ask. She obviously hadn’t. And it was no use questioning the child, because she’d spent most of the day playing near the water’s edge.
They drove to Horsham, Hen leading the way in her car. She hadn’t forgotten her promise of a pub lunch and the Green Dragon was her choice. She picked her way to it unerringly, parked and strode inside while Diamond was still finding a place to put his car. Brisk and boisterous, it seemed the right setting for her. There were two main drinking areas, a large screen TV and bar billiards.
“Fish and chips suit you?” she suggested when he reached her at the counter where the food was ordered. “We’ve plenty of time. A little bird told me Jimmy is out of the office until three.”
So he found a table in the main eating area, known as the conservatory, and fetched the drinks, two half-pints of Tanglefoot. He usually drank cheap lager, but this seemed the kind of place where you raised your sights and went for a full-bodied beer. Tom Jones was coming over the sound system.
“It’s not too loud, is it?” he remarked to Hen.
“I like it. But I’d forgotten they don’t let you smoke in this area,” she said. “Before you sit down, do you mind if we move to the patio?” She led him outside to a table with a plate of uneaten baked beans someone had also used as an ashtray. “I always find my level eventually.”
“But will they find us with the lunch?” he said.
“No problem.” She took out her cigars and lit one. “I told them I’d be with the Sean Connery lookalike.”
They talked for a while about films, or at least Hen did. He hadn’t been to a cinema since Steph died. It seemed Bognor was a good place to catch the latest movie. English seaside towns usually had more than one cinema, she remarked. There were so many wet afternoons when there was nowhere else to go.
Then they talked shop again. “Thanks for sending me Emma Tysoe’s files,” she said. “We’re a lot wiser about all kinds of things.”
“Well, it’s helpful to know the names on the Mariner’s death-list,” he said smoothly, as if Jimmy Barneston’s amours were well down the scale. “Bramshill had no intention of telling us.”
“Top names, too. Young Matt Porter is one of my pin-ups. I don’t want him getting killed.”
“He’ll be all right if he does as they say.”
“He sounded stroppy.”
“But his manager Macaulay makes the decisions, and he’ll crack the whip. The woman sounds more at risk.”
“Anna Walpurgis? Do you think she’ll quit the safe house?”
“It sounded as if she was causing problems.”
“And how,” Hen said. “Jimmy will bring us up to date.” She paused before saying, “How do you want to play this?”
“Straight bat. I’ve brought my copy of the files. I think we should let him have a read before we say a thing.”
“Good thinking. But then what?”
“We simply ask what happened next. We’re entitled to know if he slept with her the night before she was murdered. And anything she said that might throw light on it. Did she tell him she was planning a day on the beach? Did she feel under threat from anyone at all?”
“And what were Jimmy’s own movements that day? He’s got to prove he has an alibi.”
“Are you going to tell him?” Diamond said.
She blew out smoke and flashed a big, beguiling smile. “It would come better from you, sweetie.”
This time he didn’t argue. All along, he’d expected to be eyeball to eyeball with Barneston. He was confident of Hen’s support when the going got tough.
He said, “There’s another thing I’d like to find out from JB, and it goes back to when Emma Tysoe was first brought in on the case. How many people knew? Bramshill were in on it, obviously. So was Jimmy. But who else?”
She stared at him for a moment. “So you’re still holding on to the possibility she could have been killed by the Mariner?”
“I haven’t excluded it.” A bland admission. Deep down, he was more committed. From the beginning, everyone had told him the cases were unconnected, so his stubborn personality wanted to prove the opposite.
Their food arrived shortly after. Hen slid the vinegar towards him. “I expect you’re quite a connoisseur of fish and chips.”
“Living alone, you mean? Actually I’m a pizza specialist.”
“Do you cook for yourself at all?”
“Pizzas from the freezer. I sometimes open a tin of beans. I could be asking you these questions.”
“Me?” Hen said. “The canteen at Bognor nick is second to none.” She leaned back in the seat as if her attention was taken by a group of young office workers celebrating someone’s birthday. They all had paper hats. Then her eyes returned to Diamond and she took a long sip of beer before saying, “I heard about your wife being murdered last year. I know you don’t want sympathy. Just wanted to say-as a total outsider-you’re bearing up better than I would.”
“Thanks. I’ve learnt a few tips about living alone,” he said, sidestepping the heart-to-heart he saw coming. “One thing you can depend on absolutely. If you go to the bathroom, you just get settled and somebody will ring the doorbell. If you’re able to get there in time it’s a bloke selling oven gloves. If you don’t make it, you find a card to say you missed the postman and you’ve got to go into town and collect a parcel.”
She smiled. “Don’t I know! And when you collect, it isn’t a parcel at all, but a letter from some plonker who forgot to put on a stamp.”
“Yes, and when you pay up and open the letter it’s from the doctor to say you need a booster jab for anti-tetanus.”