She gave a little cry of delight. And now he felt the heat of her enthusiasm. ‘You have read it carefully.’ She hesitated on the brink of the next question. ‘What do you think, guv? Is it a load of hooey?’
‘You mean how seriously should we take it? I’m not about to arrest the museum curator, if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘You know very well that’s not what I’m asking.’
‘Tim, the weird husband?’
‘That may not be his real name. Well, I’m sure it can’t be. She says at the beginning she changed the names.’
‘Whoever he is, if he’s real, he ticks some of our boxes,’ he said. ‘In the army on active service, so he knows how to use a rifle. Lived in a city twenty miles down the road. Must be Wells. Drove a taxi, so he had wheels. Is held responsible for the teenager’s death.’
‘The policeman’s daughter’s death,’ she put in.
‘True, which is why he is harassed by the Wells police, or believes he is, so he moves here and starts going out at nights and being secretive and moody. There’s not much doubt that these women think he could be the sniper. Motive, opportunity and possibly the means as well if somehow he managed to hang on to his service rifle after being discharged.’ He leaned back in the chair and linked his hands around the back of his neck. He’d indulged Ingeborg enough. ‘But we arrested the sniper and he’s sitting in the cells. We have the weapon and we have the shoeprint evidence. Is there any point in looking for Tim?’
Her large, eager eyes were fixed on his. ‘You tell me. You’re the boss.’
‘Here’s a question for you, Inge, as a computer buff. All that stuff in the first blog about making it untraceable by bouncing the text around the internet through a series of volunteers — is that true?’
‘I’m sure it is. She over-simplifies, but the principle is correct. It’s known as the onion method. The text is encrypted and goes through a series of proxy handlers. Each one can tell where it comes from and where to send it, but that’s all they know, and all they’ll ever know.’
‘Then we’d have an impossible job trying to find out who wrote this thing and who the people are?’
‘Through the internet, yes.’
‘So the mighty computer does have its limitations?’ He rubbed his hands. ‘We’d have to find these sleuthing ladies through old-fashioned detective work, picking up clues about where they live. I’m almost inclined to start — just to get one over technology.’ He smiled. ‘But I’m not going to. We’d be wasting precious time.’
Ingeborg stared at him in disbelief, if not defiance. ‘So you think it’s all one big red herring?’
‘Don’t you?’
She didn’t get a chance to answer. The phone on Diamond’s desk rang. The desk sergeant was asking for him urgently. A clear note of alarm was in the voice.
This might have been the interview to duck. There was a definite prospect of a blow-up, if not a punch-up, even within the police station. But avoidance never crossed Diamond’s mind. The case had come to a critical point.
‘In room one, sir. He’s in quite a state.’
Diamond found Soldier Nuttall in combat clothes and desert boots, pacing the small room, speaking agitatedly into his mobile. Seeing that he was no longer alone, he switched off.
‘You took your time,’ he told Diamond. ‘I want a straight answer from you. No bullshit. Are you, or are you not, holding my boy?’
‘Holding Royston?’ He spread his hands. ‘I am not.’
‘Don’t mess with me, Diamond. If it isn’t you, one of your lot has got him. Where is he? I want him released.’
‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘He’s only seventeen, you know. You can’t do this. I know the law. If you detain a juvenile, you must inform the appropriate adult — that’s me — of the reason why you’re holding him and his whereabouts. And I have the right to see him immediately.’
‘Didn’t you hear me?’ Diamond said. ‘He’s not here.’
‘Some other nick, then.’
‘I don’t think so. I’ve heard nothing about an arrest.’
‘You’d better check, hadn’t you?’
‘I will. What makes you think he’s under arrest?’
‘He didn’t come home last night, hasn’t been in touch, hasn’t texted, phoned, whatever.’
‘Do you have any reason to think he might have been picked up by the police?’
A wary look settled on the hawkish features. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because of what you’re saying.’
‘I won’t be tricked, you know. I know my rights. You people are going to pay heavily for damaging my property for no good reason. You’ll be hearing from my solicitor. Nothing will alter that.’
‘I didn’t mention your property,’ Diamond said, keen to move on. ‘I thought you were here about your son. When did you last see Royston?’
‘Yesterday, after your visit. You insisted on speaking to him alone and I don’t know what was said. That was against the law.’
‘Don’t lecture me on the law, Mr. Nuttall. He wasn’t under arrest or in detention. I made that clear to you. Let’s cool off a bit and see what can be done. Did you speak to him after I left your house?’
‘What do you take me for? I’m his father. I’m responsible for him. Of course I bloody did.’
‘And did you accuse him of anything?’
‘Everything under the sun.’
‘Really?’
‘I wanted to know why you lot came calling. Isn’t that the duty of a father? If he’d been caught drinking, or doing drugs, or making a nuisance of himself, I needed to know.’
A new slant on Soldier Nuttalclass="underline" the responsible parent.
‘Did he admit to anything?’ Diamond asked.
‘If he did, would I blab it to a cop? I’m not simple.’
‘Let’s put it another way, then. How did he seem to take it?’
‘Take what?’
‘Being questioned by his father. I need to know what frame of mind he was in. If he’s run away from home, is it because you frightened him?’
‘Him? He’s a bloody teenager, spoiling for a fight.’
‘That wasn’t the way I saw him, cowering on the back seat of your car.’
‘I loosed the dog, didn’t I? You’d be cowering if one of them brutes was trying to rip your throat out. Royston was brought up tough. He can take a bollocking from me.’
‘Then I don’t see what the problem is.’
‘He’s a missing child, that’s the problem.’
‘Big child.’
‘Under eighteen.’
‘It’s not unusual for a kid his age to take umbrage at something and go off on his own for a night, or a couple of nights.’
‘I want him found. That’s your job.’
‘One of my jobs. Now that you’ve reported it, I’ll get the word out. Did he take his motorbike?’
‘That’s gone, yes.’
‘Does he have money?’
‘Plenty.’
‘He wouldn’t be armed, would he?’
A suspicious glare. ‘What with?’
‘I was told you possess a number of licensed weapons, and I mean real ones that fire. Have you checked them today? If any are missing, you must certainly let me know.’
The mention of weapons seemed to take all of the steam out of Nuttall. It was suddenly as if he wanted to be out of there and taking Diamond’s advice. ‘You’ll tell me right away if you see anything of him?’
‘Certainly.’
‘He may look like a man, but he’s just a kid really.’
‘We’ve both been that age,’ Diamond said as if he was a headmaster being merciful to an anxious parent. ‘Leave it to us, Mr. Nuttall.’
Left alone in the interview room, he asked himself why this bizarre scene had taken place. Why was a little Hitler like Nuttall demanding help from the police? It was obvious he wasn’t really troubled over Royston’s welfare. His own welfare was under threat. But he was unwilling to disclose the reason. First he had believed Royston was in custody. A serious issue, then, a criminal matter, else why did he assume that the boy was being held? Was he alarmed by what his offspring would disclose?
Learning that Royston wasn’t being held should have come as good news to Nuttall and obviously didn’t. He wanted him rounded up, and quickly. It seemed the lad was a loose cannon, capable of doing real damage. Did it go back to what had been said between father and son? By his own admission Nuttall had laid into Royston and accused him of everything under the sun. One of the charges must have stuck. Under interrogation or at liberty, the errant teenager was a direct threat to his father’s well-defended reputation.