Peter Lovesey - The Headhunters

‘You think Francisco will tell us?’

‘If he’s allowed to. If not, we may have to get it out of Sentinel himself.’

Stella liked the theory. She was persuaded. ‘We’ve got to pursue this, guv. It explains both killings.’

‘And yet,’ Hen said, ‘I keep coming back to the tree-hugger, Jake Kernow. He’s the one with a record of violence. He has local knowledge. He was seen along the beach on the day Meredith was found. He’s into fossils and so was she. He drank coffee with her at the museum in London. How much more do we need on this guy?’

‘A link to the second drowning.’

‘Don’t I wish!’ She sighed like the young Judy Garland on the road to Oz. ‘He’s quite a loner. How would he have met Fiona?’

‘She visited Pagham Harbour?’

‘Did she?’ Hen’s voice hit a higher register.

‘That was a question. A suggestion.’

The disappointment showed.

Stella said, ‘I was just thinking it’s more likely she would find him than the other way round. She was the go-getter.’

‘Agreed. But suppose his line of work gave him some reason to visit the print works.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘They have posters at nature reserves, don’t they? Leaflets, maps, lists of the birds and mammals you’re likely to spot. What if he needed some new ones printed?’

‘He goes to Kleentext and meets her? It’s not impossible, guv.’

‘We can check with them. See if they’ve done any printing of that sort. I’ll get Gary onto it. This has been useful, Stell. If only one of these suggestions bears fruit, we’ll celebrate in style.’

Getting through a day’s work at the garden centre had been a minor miracle, Jo thought while driving home. She’d been on autopilot, her mind in ferment. Fortunately, her boss Adrian was like a headless chicken himself because last night’s storm had damaged many of the outdoor plants and blown out several panels in the main greenhouse. ‘What a wicked night!’ he’d said when he first came in, and Jo in her jumpy state had thought he’d somehow got to hear of her trip to the Island.

Still, a low-level task like sweeping up broken glass was a help. She needed to get last night in proportion. Decisions made in anger are usually wrong.

She looked forward to getting home, a simple meal, a quiet hour or two, and an early night. The backlog of missed sleep had caught up with her. Adrian must have seen her yawning because he said she’d been such a help she could leave early.

The sight of a familiar yellow Smartcar outside the house was not the welcome home she wanted. She said, ‘Sod you, Gemma!’ and drove straight past. Another face-to-face with that woman would be too much. She drove around the block and drew in between two cars in a neighbouring road, switched off, and banged her head repeatedly against the steering wheel. Ten minutes passed before she told herself she couldn’t stay there all night. But what else could she do? She wouldn’t go crying on Jake’s shoulder. He’d think what a wimp she was. And only an irredeemable wimp would spend the evening sitting in the car, or alone in some pub trying to make a club soda last for hours.

She’d have to tell Gemma to piss off home.

As it worked out, Gemma wasn’t waiting on the doorstep when she drove up the second time. The Smartcar had got smart and gone.

Brilliant, she thought. She parked, locked the car, stepped up to the door, and let herself in.

‘Here she is,’ her neighbour Doreen said. ‘I said to your friend you’d be home any minute. You’re later than usual.’ The old lady was standing in the hallway and Gemma beside her with a sly grin.

What could she do? Give Gemma the bum’s rush she would have given her on the other side of the door? Not in front of sweet old Doreen in her frilly apron, smiling as if she’d just baked the perfect Victoria sponge, convinced she’d done the right thing in admitting Gemma.

‘I’m not seeing anyone today.’

‘Something wrong with the eyesight, then? This can’t be put off, Jo dear,’ Gemma said in a butter-wouldn’t-melt voice meant more for Doreen than her. ‘It won’t take long and it’s very important. I know you weren’t expecting me because I’ve been trying to call you all day. Your mobile must need recharging, or something.’

Switched off to keep you off my back, Jo almost said. What she actually said was, ‘I’m too tired.’

‘Dear, oh dear,’ Doreen said in her most sympathetic tone. ‘Can I get you an aspirin, or something?’

‘I’ll be fine. I just refuse to see a visitor.’ She made a move towards the stairs.

‘But I don’t count as a visitor, do I?’ Gemma said. ‘I was telling Doreen here, we’re the closest of pals. Would you believe, Doreen, she was the only girl at my birthday treat yesterday? Tell you what, Jo, I’ll come upstairs and make you a nice cup of tea.’

‘No.’

‘Don’t be so hasty, dear,’ Doreen said. ‘It’s a very kind suggestion. Nothing like a nice cup of tea.’

‘Leave me alone,’ Jo said to Gemma. ‘I’ve nothing to say to you.’

‘But I’ve something to say to you,’ Gemma said, ‘and it can’t be put off. You really must listen, Jo.’

‘You said it all last night. Go away.’ She started up the stairs and put her key in the lock.

‘We’ll leave it like that, then, ‘ Gemma said, as calm as she’d ever sounded. ‘If you don’t want to hear it from me, I’ll have that nice cup of tea with Doreen and put her in the picture. Then she can tell you later.’

Doreen said at once, ‘What a splendid idea. Come in, dear, and I’ll get the kettle on.’

Shit and derision. God only knew what Gemma would say to Doreen if she didn’t get her way. ‘All right,’ Jo said, outwitted. ‘I’ll give you five minutes maximum.’

Gemma beamed at Doreen and followed Jo up the stairs.

‘That was underhand,’ Jo said as soon as the door was closed, ‘taking advantage of an old lady-and of me.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘I notice you moved your car to put me off my guard.’

‘That isn’t fair, Jo. I’m trying to mend fences here. We have to talk. We’re friends, for God’s sake. Can’t leave it as we did last night.’

‘So that’s why you’re here. You’re so bloody obvious.’

‘I know you wouldn’t grass up your friends.’

‘Don’t count on it.’

But the tone of Jo’s voice had given Gemma the reassurance she had come to hear. The relief was written all over her face. ‘You obviously got back all right. Was it a rough crossing?’

‘I didn’t notice.’

‘Yes, I could see you were shocked out of your skull, but when a death is involved there’s no way of putting it gently. We thought you had a right to know, considering you were in on this from the beginning.’

‘Hang about. Don’t make me into an accessory,’ Jo said. ‘Murder was never seriously discussed that night in Chicago Rock, and you know it. What we talked about was just a joke in very bad taste.’

‘Too right,’ Gemma said. ‘Pity Rick didn’t cotton on that we were joking.’

‘What are you saying now-that you weren’t part of it?’

‘I bear some responsibility; of course I do. I shouldn’t have floated the idea of killing Mr Cartwright, even for a laugh. But we both under-estimated Rick. Jo, he’s nuts.’

‘You’re changing your tune, aren’t you?’ Jo said. ‘Last night you were calling him some sort of genius.’

‘That’s true. I had to act up. To be honest, he scares me. I don’t know what he’d do if I told him I disapproved. Is that weak of me? I suppose it is. I’m worried sick.’

This was a turnaround, and Jo might have been impressed if Gemma had not been so two-faced. ‘Report him yourself, then.’