The House Sitter

by Peter Lovesey

  “That’s not a consideration,” Georgina told him curtly.

  “Of course not. Sultan’s well-being is the main thing.”

  “I’ve been home,” she said, “and written out some instructions about his routine. There’s enough tinned food for the ten days, but he likes a little fresh fish, steamed. If Ms Walpurgis would be so good as to collect a fillet of lemon sole from Waitrose every two or three days and cook it between two plates over a saucepan of water he’ll be her friend for life. I’ve left some money in an envelope.”

  “You’ve thought of everything,” Diamond said, feeling a pang of guilt about Raffles, who hadn’t had a sniff of fresh fish of any variety since Christmas. Actually he doubted whether Sultan had much prospect of his steamed lemon sole. Anna Walpurgis didn’t seem the sort of person who cooked.

  “I’ve also cleared a space at one end of my wardrobe and found a couple of spare hangers.”

  With difficulty, he suppressed a smile. “I can guarantee she’ll make use of those, ma’am.”

  “And be sure to ask her to sign the visitors’ book. I’ve left it open on the table by the front door.”

  The visitors’ book. Georgina would have a visitors’ book. And Anna Walpurgis’s visit would be recorded and remembered for ever.

  “Table by the front door. Sorted.”

  With the important matters settled, Georgina leaned back in her chair. “I understand you interviewed a man about the murder of Dr Tysoe.”

  “This morning, ma’am.”

  “A suspect?”

  “Definitely, but it’s early days. We’re looking at his alibi-so-called.”

  “So isn’t he in custody?”

  “No, ma’am. We let him go home. I don’t rate him as dangerous to anyone else. He was the jilted lover.”

  “A crime of passion, you think?”

  “Yes, if he’s the killer, it’s all about jealousy and thwarted love. Don’t worry. He won’t be picking off the citizens of Bath.”

  “God forbid. Are there any other suspects?”

  “An Australian lifeguard we’re still trying to trace. He went missing soon after the murder. And a couple of men who were at the beach that day and could have killed her for the car.”

  “It must have been a good car.”

  “A Lotus Esprit. It hasn’t been traced.”

  “Well, I suppose it’s possible,” Georgina said. “When I hear of things like this I’m glad I don’t own a car myself.”

  “People have been murdered for less,” Diamond said. “Do you have a mobile phone?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Keep it out of sight, ma’am. Don’t tempt them.”

  “What’s happening to our world, Peter?”

  “Easy pickings, ma’am. The haves display their property and the have-nots relieve them of it.”

  “Aren’t the streets of Bath safe any more?”

  “Never were. We’d be safer in the backstreets of Cairo.”

  After that, Diamond wished Georgina a wonderful holiday in Egypt and she entrusted him with the spare key to her house in Bennett Street.

  Hen had already driven back to Bognor-with some reluctance. She had enjoyed seeing the opening moves in the Diamond-Walpurgis game. She would have liked to remain for a sight of the shopping expedition. It was a pity there were important things to do in Sussex.

  Back in the incident room, Halliwell told Diamond that Jimmy Barneston had been trying to reach him on the phone. Events had moved ahead so fast that Barneston seemed like part of a previous existence.

  He returned the call. Barneston was under stress again.

  “I’ve had Bramshill onto me demanding to know what the hell is going on. Special Branch told them you’ve taken over responsibility for Anna Walpurgis. They seem to think you’ve hijacked my investigation as well. I tried telling them it isn’t like that, and we lost confidence in Special Branch after the fiasco with Matthew Porter, but they told me I made a mistake handing her over to you.”

  “Pillocks.”

  “I agree.”

  “You’re in no position to look after her yourself,” Diamond said. “You’ve got your hands full investigating two murders.”

  “Tell me about it!”

  “She lost confidence in Special Branch, just as you and I did. She was about to jump ship. They should be grateful someone is willing to take her on board.”

  “That’s a neat way of putting it. I’ll use it if they get on to me again.”

  “I wouldn’t bother,” Diamond said. “They’re probably listening to us, anyway.”

  Barneston’s voice registered alarm. “Do you think so?”

  He didn’t go down that road. “How’s the Porter investigation going?”

  “The PM results are in. Death was definitely caused by a missile the shape of a crossbow bolt. He was killed elsewhere some hours before and the body was transported to the golf course and dumped in the bunker.”

  “Traces?”

  “This time we got lucky. They found some fibres on the victim that could have come from whatever the killer was wearing. While he was manhandling the body he must have rubbed against the clothes. I wonder why he bothered moving it out to the golf course.”

  “Making a point, Jimmy. The Mariner has an agenda, and he’s carrying it out to the letter. Remember what Emma Tysoe wrote in her file: ‘methodical and cool under stress.’ She was spot on.”

  “So are you taking good care of Anna Walpurgis?”

  “Star treatment.”

  “No problems, then?” he said, unable to hide his disappointment. He’d obviously been through purgatory with the lady.

  “None that I noticed.”

  “You want to watch out,” he said with a definite note of relish. “I don’t mind betting the Mariner finds his way to Bath.”

  If the threat from the Mariner was uppermost in Diamond’s thinking, the matter of Emma Tysoe’s murder was not to be shelved. He called Ingeborg to his office.

  “Have you listened to the tape of the Ken Bellman interview?” he asked her.

  “Yes, guv.”

  “Don’t say a thing,” he said, picking up the fault-finding note in the first word. “I wasn’t happy with it myself. We know a bit more now, but we don’t have the full picture yet. He was on that bloody beach the day she was killed. He admits it. He’d been stalking her day and night. He claims he gave up and went home after she told him to take a hike, but I don’t believe him. I want to put this bugger away, Ingeborg.”

  “Are you going to have another go at him?”

  “You bet. Only I need more to work with. Do some digging for me. Go right back to when he first met Emma as a student at Liverpool. He says there was nothing in it. Well, not exactly nothing-”

  “They didn’t have sex.”

  “Right.”

  Ingeborg said, level-eyed, “You don’t have to be coy with me, guv. I’ve been around the block a few times.”

  “Right.” He was parroting “right” to mask his unease. He was coy with her. She looked about fifteen. “That’s one thing to discover if we can. Did they or didn’t they? What about the years since then? Did they stay in touch? He claims they didn’t. He just met her in the library one day. Can that be true?”

  “Not easy to find out without talking to him,” she said.

  “I know. You may get nothing. The problem is that Emma Tysoe didn’t share her confidences. The people up at the university weren’t much help when I talked to them. You might do better than me. There was a black woman called Helen Sparks who seemed to know her better than most.”

  “They’ll be off on vacation, most of them.”

  Ignoring that, Diamond added, “See if she knows anything at all about Bellman.”

  “I’ll get onto it right away.”

  “I haven’t finished. We didn’t get much out of Bellman’s employers, either. This lot who call themselves Knowhow & Fix. Have a session with them. We don’t have to worry any more about alerti
ng the fox. He knows we’re on the scent. In particular find out where he worked previously. He mentioned somewhere in London.”

  “SW1,” said Ingeborg. “And he claimed he was living in Putney at the time.”

  “See if that’s true, then. I want the authentic life history.”

  “Understood.”

  “And Ingeborg…”

  “Guv?”

  “Got any plans for this evening?”

  She blinked, uncertain what he was about to suggest. “Not much-I think.”

  “You think?”

  She’d coloured deeply. “There could be something in my diary I’ve forgotten.”

  “Check it, then. You can do some overtime. Impress me with your efforts. You could swing this case yourself.”

  She looked relieved. Eyes shining with so much responsibility, she returned to the incident room.

  21

  Shortly after ten next morning Diamond took the lift to the top floor of the Bath Spa Hotel. No news, he hoped, was good news-but he knew of course that policemen can’t afford to rely on hope. John Leaman, looking tired but comfortable, was seated in an armchair outside the Beau Nash Suite with the Daily Mirror across his knees. Diamond approached unseen.

  “Did the management provide this for you?”

  Leaman rose like a startled pheasant. “Morning, guv. What was that?”

  “The chair?”

  “That was Anna’s idea. It comes from inside.”

  “You’re on first-name terms, then?”

  “She suggested it.”

  “How’s it been? Quiet?”

  “Remarkably.”

  “She is still in there, I suppose?”

  “Well, she hasn’t come out, guv. The breakfast went in about nine-fifteen.”

  Diamond said in a taut voice, “What do you mean-went in? You allowed someone to go in there?”

  “Room service, guv.”

  “And you didn’t go in with him? Christ almighty, man. He could have been the Mariner. What do you think you’re here for?” Diamond pressed the bell on the door.

  There was an agonising delay before they heard footsteps inside, and it was opened. Anna Walpurgis, triumphantly still of this world, looked out. “My shopping escort! What a star!” she said. “It doesn’t get better than this. Five minutes to finish my face, guys. Come in, and wait.” Leaving the door ajar, she vanished inside.

  Knowing every word would be repeated with relish in the Manvers Street canteen, Diamond said curtly to Leaman, “You’re in the clear, then. She survived. Go home and get some sleep.”

  An order Leaman was only too pleased to obey.

  Inside the main room, Diamond found more of the morning papers scattered about. A Flintstones cartoon was showing on the widescreen TV. A strong whiff of perfume wafted from the open door of the bathroom, more musky than the brand Hen used to mask her cigar smells. He helped himself to a banana from the fruit bowl and unpeeled it.

  He’d assumed her five minutes would mean at least twenty, and that was an underestimate by ten. But he didn’t complain. He was comfortable looking at the papers with half an eye on the TV.

  When she did emerge from the bathroom she was in skintight black velvet trousers with vents showing portions of hip and thigh. Her small, sleeveless, gipsy top announced to the world that she was not wearing a bra. To top it off, a black hat the size of a police helmet, but with the added feature of a vast floppy brim.

  “What do you think?” she asked him.

  Tact was wanted here, he thought. He got to his feet and gave her the full appraisal. “Amazing.”

  “Let’s go, then. I’m in serious need of retail therapy.”

  He cleared his throat. “Allowing that we’re trying to keep a low profile, maybe the hat is just a little too eye-catching.”

  “A fashion statement,” she told him cheerfully, as if that answered his objection. “I’ll be wearing my shades.”

  He tried another tack. “Before we do any shopping, we’ll be moving you to your new address in Bennett Street.”

  “You and whose army?”

  Prickling, he reminded her, “I told you about this yesterday.”

  “Change of plan,” she said sweetly. “This hotel will do for me.”

  “Sorry. It’s a security measure.”

  “Another of these crap safe houses? You’re not going to spoil my day before we even start on the shops?”

  “Not a safe house.”

  “Unsafe,” she said, with a mocking laugh.

  He rephrased it. “Safe, but not in the Special Branch sense. This will be your own pad, a beautiful Georgian house in Bennett Street, one of the most exclusive areas of the city. It links with the Circus. Saville Row, with its antique shops, is just across the street. The Assembly Rooms are-”

  She butted in, “What were you called again?”

  “Diamond. Peter Diamond.”

  She linked her arm under his. “I know you mean well, Pete, but I’m comfortable here. The shower works and the waiters are good-looking. What else could I require? So let’s you and me chill out a little and take a hike around the shops.”

  “I don’t like to spoil the fun,” he said, disentangling himself, “but I’ve got to insist. The move has to be done before we see a single shop. Where are your cases?”

  “Room Service took them away.”

  He picked up a phone and dialled the front desk.

  She said, “This is getting to be a pain.”

  “I’m having them sent up.”

  “Masterful,” she said with irony.

  “Only thinking of your safety.”

  “Like I haven’t heard that a zillion times in the past two weeks?”

  “Why don’t you start folding your clothes?” he said to her just as someone answered the phone. He explained that Miss Walpurgis would be checking out shortly and required her suitcases.

  Tony from Special Branch had not exaggerated. Five large cases presently came up on a trolley. Their owner, uninterested, was sitting on the sofa watching Tom and Jerry. Diamond tipped the man himself.

  Alone with her again, he eyed the luggage, wondering what she could find to fill it. “I’ll have a job getting all these in my car.”

  “Don’t bother, then,” Anna told him.

  “Are you going to pack, or would you like me to do it?”

  “‘For you, Johnny, ze war is over.’”

  “I’m going to make a start.” He opened the hanging space behind the door and unhooked several coats.

  She said, “Do you blow fire as well?” Swinging her legs off the sofa, she got up and picked one of the empty cases off the trolley and carried it into the bedroom.

  He’d won the first round.

  The packing took a few minutes over the half-hour. Each bulging case had to be forced down before the zip-fastening would work.

  “And you still want to buy more clothes?” he said in disbelief.

  “Louis Vuitton expects… I can always get another suitcase,” she said.

  They called the bell-captain and arranged for the laden trolley to be moved downstairs.

  Down in the lobby, Anna insisted on paying for her stay. “This was my choice of hotel,” she said.

  The receptionist checked for mail. “There is a letter for you, Ms Walpurgis.”

  “So soon?” she ripped open the envelope and took out a single sheet, unfolded it, went pale, and said, “What sicko sent this?”

  Diamond took it from her.

  Six lines of verse, produced on a printer:

  Like one, that on a lonesome road

  Doth walk in fear and dread,

  And having once turned round walks on,

  And turns no more her head;

  Because she knows, a frightful fiend

  Doth close behind her tread.

  He knew the lines. He’d read them recently in The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Seeing them again, knowing who must have sent them, was chilling. They were picked to strike terror
into Anna Walpurgis. Coleridge’s words had been slightly altered to make the subject female. This time the message wasn’t a prediction or a play on words, as the others had been. It was calculated to make the victim suffer before the kill.

  “I’m afraid he knows you’re here.”

  “The killer?” She put her hand to her throat. “How could he?”

  “The point is, it’s happened.”

  “God! What can we do?”

  He felt like saying, What I’ve been trying to do for the past hour-move you out of here. But he also felt sympathy. Seeing how shaken she was, he calmly told her they were doing the right thing. Mentally he was reeling himself, at a loss to understand how the Mariner could have penetrated the security.

  He showed his ID and asked the desk staff if they recalled who brought the letter in, pointing out that it must have been delivered by hand, because there was no stamp.

  Nobody had any memory of a letter being handed in.

  “The night staff?”

  They promised to make enquiries.

  He took some rapid decisions. “If you get anyone asking for Miss Walpurgis, tell them she’s not in her room at the moment. Give the impression she’s still a guest. Then contact Bath police at once. Do you understand? Next, is there a goods entrance? We’ll use that for loading the car.”

  Anna, ashen-faced and silent, was taken through a door marked “Private-staff only.” Diamond moved his old Cortina to the rear of the hotel and the cases were stowed: three in the boot, one beside him at the front and the other on the back seat. After telling Anna to remove the hat he asked her to huddle up, head down, in the remaining space on the back. He covered her with the garment bag. Then he drove out, studying the mirrors for any sign of a vehicle following. He went twice around the perimeter roads of Sydney Gardens before deciding no one was in pursuit. Taking the Bathwick Street route, he crossed the Avon at Cleveland Bridge and turned south, past the Paragon, and joined Lansdown Road at the bottom. Satisfied he was still alone, he made his way up to the Bennett Street turn and came to a halt outside Georgina’s house.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  Anna’s muffled voice answered, “Terrified. Are we there?”

  “I’ll open the front door first. Go straight inside when I give you the word. I’ll bring the cases after.”