S White - Hermit

It was better than Rainer could have anticipated. A link – once removed – between Nathan Whittler and the victim.

‘What were they talking about?’

‘Oh, I only saw them in passing. I’d stopped for a long black and I was on my way out and back home; they were standing outside and yacking. I didn’t catch what about. Is that important?’

Yeah , thought Rainer. It really is .

‘Ever see them together before?’

Mathers became a little more cautious.

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m interested, Mr Mathers. Have you ever seen Jeb Whittler and Lou Cassavette together at any time?’

Mathers’ eyes narrowed. It didn’t strike Rainer that Mathers was dissembling; more that he’d suddenly realised he was sitting on a nugget of social gold. Mathers would bore his wife to death about it this evening, Rainer had no doubt. Without meeting Marlene, Rainer already felt a little sorry for her.

‘Not that I recall. Both in the local business club, though. Possible they met there at some point. Can’t say as I’ve noticed.’

‘So, after you moved in, Mr Mathers, anything unusual happen?’

‘How d’you mean, unusual?’

‘Out of the ordinary?’ Rainer leaned forward again. ‘Find anything on the property that shouldn’t be there; anyone visit that seemed out of place – that kind of thing?’

‘Nope.’ Mathers looked at his hands. ‘You got me a little nervous now, son.’

‘Oh, it’s ancient history we’re covering. Like I say, background.’ Rainer gave his most reassuring smile. ‘Nothing unusual after the sale?’

‘Nope, we just moved in and started cleari— Wait, no, there was one thing.’ Mathers prodded the air between them with one finger. ‘We reported it to the cops as well. Yeah. Damn, I haven’t thought about that in years. Spooked Marlene, I can tell you.’

‘Oh?’

‘So, a few days after we bought, we came over to take some measurements for the stables. Drainage trenches – real glamorous. As we arrive, there’s a car coming down the driveway towards us. We pull over, thinking they’re going to stop and talk, but no, she drives straight past. Never even looks. Woman, twenties, maybe thirty – pretty. Well, we go on up to the property, but there’s no sign of breaking in; nothing’s missing. Anyways, we report it to the cops in case there’s something we didn’t notice and we need to claim insurance.’

‘Did they ever get back to you?’

‘They did, they certainly did. That’s how come I remember it at all, really. It amazed us, to be honest. No offence, but where we were from, in the city, they wouldn’t have given a rat’s behind about that kind of thing. But yeah, they tracked her down in a day or so. I’d got some of the number plate and it was a blue VW Beetle, so I guess they found her from that. Apparently, she was an old buddy of Jeb’s; didn’t know he’d moved. No biggie. But we were sure impressed by your colleagues.’

Rainer spread his hands, as if that kind of anecdote were par for the course. ‘ Reassure and Protect . We do exactly what it says on the tin.’

‘Mr Whittler.’

‘Detective Russo.’

They’d played out the start of an interview five times already and it had an easy, comfortable cadence around it. Once again, Dana swept the formidably tidy tower of detritus into a bag she’d brought along. This time, her synapses fizzed with the connection between this neatness and the choice of knife. Physical proximity and tangibility of his sense of order supported her conviction that they were correct about him choosing the weapon.

She set a fresh water bottle before Nathan and received an almost imperceptible tilt of the head in acknowledgement. Once more, she tied a trucker’s hitch in front of him with the string. This time, it worked.

‘Is that a trucker’s hitch you’ve just done, Detective?’

‘It is indeed, Mr Whittler. Always fastens tight, zero slippage.’ Her voice juddered noticeably as she said it. She had absolutely no intention of discussing how she knew about knots.

‘Good choice. I took a book into the cave with me. Very useful: not only knots, but fastenings and other woodcraft.’

Dana put the bag down carefully by her foot. She was surprised by his relative chattiness. As if he’d reached some kind of accommodation with himself about how much he was prepared to share.

‘I saw the clothes line you rigged up, Mr Whittler. Ingenious, to use the flysheet.’

‘I needed to dry clothes in wet weather, and out of sight. Especially summer – the humidity next to the water was terrible. I had to have clothes drying all day and night to get them wearable. No breeze inside the cave, you see.’

Dana opened her file and circled some Pitman squiggles. ‘I’d like to go back to 2004, if I may, Mr Whittler.’

The mood sharpened and cooled. ‘Why, Detective?’

She paused, wanting to frame it exactly right. His explanation for leaving home might hint at motive for killing Cassavette, though she couldn’t currently imagine how. At the very least, she needed to understand what kind of person he was becoming at that point: her perception was that the following fifteen years in a cave had merely refined that person.

‘We need to build up a picture of why you left home. It’s the reason you were in the cave, which in turn is the reason you were in Jensen’s Store this morning.’

‘I see.’ Nathan’s tone was determinedly neutral.

‘Did you enjoy working at Pringle’s?’

‘Pringle’s?’ He seemed surprised she’d mentioned it. Perhaps that meant his employment was irrelevant to why he had left. Maybe he compartmentalised to such a degree that he didn’t associate where he worked with leaving town.

‘Yes, I suppose I did enjoy it, in a strange way. Mr Pringle was very kind to me. I’ve thought back at various times and realised I probably wasn’t very good at my job. His other apprentices seemed to catch up and race ahead of me, somehow.’ Nathan rubbed his palms together as he stared at the floor. ‘I was diligent, but I don’t think I was particularly good. Mr Pringle seemed to put up with that.’

Nathan had, she concluded, enough self-awareness to know exactly what Pringle had thought of him. It also tallied with Rainer’s earlier interview. ‘And he left you to it?’

‘Yes, he did. I think he understood that was how I preferred it. My workstation was in a corner, tucked out of sight. None of the customers ever came down there. I could go a few hours without seeing anyone.’

It was out of her mouth before she realised how flippant she sounded. ‘That was useful training.’

‘Yes, yes, I suppose so. Although I didn’t realise at the time, of course. I know the money was barely above minimum wage, but…’ He shrugged and trailed off.

‘Barely above minimum?’ Rainer hadn’t caught that titbit.

‘Yes. I was on minimum originally. But that last year, Mr Pringle bumped it up by about ten per cent more than the award. I never told my family, obviously.’

The conversation was starting to steer the way she wanted. There was something about this family: some undercurrent.

‘Why not?’

‘I had to hand over ninety per cent to the family pot. We all did.’ Nathan took a slow swig. Dana sensed he was trying to veer away from a particular road, hoping she wouldn’t notice the junction. ‘I needed the extra money for the camping equipment I was buying. I carried on paying the same amount into the family pot, and it didn’t seem to occur to anyone to ask why I hadn’t received a pay rise. One of the few benefits of low expectations, I suppose.’

On the one hand, he’d confirmed he was gradually building up the means of leaving – the equipment, the wherewithal – which sounded like long-term planning. Yet she was more convinced than ever that the precipitating incident they were all chasing lay inside the Whittler household. They couldn’t interview the parents; Mike had talked to Jeb relatively briefly so far. She wanted to soften Nathan up a little.