Peter Lovesey - The Headhunters

They stepped out to the pool’s edge and Kibblewhite rubbed some warmth into his surgical gloves and drew them on. ‘She’s no use to me where she is.’

‘That’s where she was found,’ Hen said.

‘If you think I’m going to wade out to see her, you’re mistaken,’ he said. ‘Can someone find a boat hook and pull her to the side?’

A boat hook in a private garden?

Hen called Gary over and explained the problem. He went across to the garden shed and returned with a rake.

‘Well done, young man,’ Kibblewhite said when the floating corpse had been pulled to the pool edge. ‘Now fetch some help and let’s see if you can land the beauty.’

Gary shouted for assistance and two uniformed officers came running from under the trees. Ropes were passed under the body and it was hoisted from the pool and gently lowered onto the tiled surround.

With Hen holding the umbrella with one hand and a tissue to her nose with the other, Kibblewhite crouched and began the examination. ‘My estimate is that she’s been in the water more than two days and less than five,’ he said after he’d pulled some hair from the head and examined the wrinkled hands and feet. ‘The obvious results of immersion.’

‘Drowning?’ Hen asked.

‘I said immersion. There’s a distinction.’ Kibblewhite turned to look up at her. ‘I can tell you now, Chief Inspector, that you’ll hear nothing about drowning from me at this juncture, and you may not hear it at all.’

‘And what’s the good news?’

‘I mean it. After several days have gone by, as they obviously have, it’s not easy to form an opinion and I certainly won’t give you one at the poolside.’ He’d taken a tape recorder from his pocket and started addressing it in a way that brooked no interruption. ‘Maceration well under way. Skin tissue deteriorating already.’ As if on second thoughts he turned to Hen again. ‘Pardon me if that sounded unfriendly. It wasn’t meant as such. But don’t expect any Quincy-type revelations from me.’

‘Did you say Quinsy?’

‘Quincy, M.E., as on television. The M.E. standing for medical examiner. You must have seen it. He solves the mystery and outwits the police every time. I first got hooked in the late seventies.’

‘Before my time.’

‘Isn’t it on any more? It was a while ago. I’ve got the entire series on DVD. The technical stuff is way out of date now, but I enjoy the stories. I expect you watch that CSI thing.’

‘Can you say anything that will help us identify her?’ Hen asked, not wanting to go any further down the television road.

‘Not a lot. The slight distension you see is trapped gas and will have brought the body to the surface. Left any longer the effect will increase markedly. She’s small in stature, smaller than you and probably slimmer, if I may be personal. Age fifty, give or take.’

‘Give or take how much?’

‘Five years. May I continue? Dyed hair and painted nails- which you can see for yourself.’

‘Bruising?’

‘No chance of finding any. Look at the state of the skin. When I’ve examined the internal organs I may have more to tell you.’ He stood up. ‘Where’s that young man disappeared to?’

Gary was summoned again.

‘Help me turn her over,’ Kibblewhite said, producing a second pair of gloves.

Hen said, ‘Are you all right with that, Gary?’

‘I think so, guv.’

When the manoeuvre was complete, Kibblewhite said, ‘No signs of wounding that I can discover. I’ve done all I can here. I’m going to make a dash for it now. Do me a favour and keep the umbrella over her until they take her away. You can return it to me at the autopsy. ’

‘When will that be?’

‘Tomorrow morning at the mortuary. Be warned. Cases like this take longer than average.’

Hen gave Gary the umbrella to hold. ‘You’re allowed to take the gloves off now.’

‘Will it be for long, guv? I feel such an idiot standing here with everyone watching.’

‘Ignore them. You look distinguished, like a butler.’

‘A butler?’

‘The gloves, Gary. You don’t need them. And if I can be personal, do you wear that suit when you’re off work?’

‘No, guv. T-shirts and jeans mostly. I was told if you want to become a suit, you’d better wear one.’

‘It’s about ambition, is it? No bad thing. I don’t know where you got that advice. It may be true for lawyers and undertakers, but not CID. Our job is about blending in. I won’t think any less of you if you come in your jeans tomorrow.’

He looked as if the sun had come out. ‘Thanks.’

‘Are the two women still out front? I’ll speak to them shortly.’

‘You first,’ Hen said, pointing at Gemma.

‘We’re in this together,’ Jo said.

‘Doesn’t mean I see you together,’ Hen said. ‘I want two witness statements and we’ll do it inside, in the dry. I’m going to open the house.’

‘It’s open already,’ Gemma informed her. ‘You can get in round the back by the patio doors.’ She glanced at Jo. ‘We might as well own up, sunshine. They’re going to find out sooner or later.’

‘You’ve been inside?’ Hen said, resigned to more lawbreaking.

‘For a search,’ Gemma said.

‘Oh, how enterprising.’ Hen set off round the house to the rear and saw the smashed window. ‘And such subtlety.’ She slid the patio door aside. ‘Wait here under the canopy, Miss Stevens.’

In the living room she and Gemma sat in armchairs. Gary had finished his stint with the umbrella and joined them.

‘What on earth were you doing here?’ Hen asked Gemma after going through the preliminaries.

Gemma had wide, persuasive, blue eyes. She tried to make it all sound as sensible as insurance. ‘My friend Jo was deeply upset when you arrested Jake yet again. She thinks he’s being victimised and she wants to do something to help him.’

‘By creating a distraction?’

‘Not at all.’ Gemma wasn’t going to be intimidated. ‘This was properly thought through. We talked it over and decided my boss, Mr Cartwright, very likely killed Fiona and maybe the other woman as well, so we came here to look for evidence.’

‘You took the law into your own hands and broke in?’

‘When the law is heading up a blind alley someone has to point the way,’ Gemma said, and folded her arms as if expecting to be challenged.

‘Before we go any further,’ Hen said, ‘I’d like to hear why you in particular suspect Denis Cartwright is capable of murder.’

‘We’ve been over this. I worked with the man. Fiona led him on outrageously and he fell for it.’

‘I know all that,’ Hen said. ‘Didn’t you hear my question?’

‘He was driven beyond all.’

‘So Fiona brought it on herself, did she? The old story.’

‘I’m not excusing him,’ Gemma said. ‘I was putting myself in his shoes. He’s a yellow-bellied coward if you really want to know. Anything unpopular with the staff, he asked me to speak to them. He wanted everyone to think he was mister nice guy. But if he was pushed into a corner I’m sure he’d bite back. That was Fiona’s big mistake.’

‘She pushed him into a corner?’

‘Onto his office floor, to be accurate. And they weren’t discussing the petty cash.’

‘Are you sure of that?’

‘My office is next door. I heard the audio version.’

‘Did anyone else know of this?’

‘It was all round the office. She wanted a top job and a seat on the board.’

‘If this is true, and Cartwright felt pressured, he may have had a motive. But nothing like this happened with the other victims.’

‘I can’t say, can I? I don’t know what went on between them and him.’