Soon after, they finished reading the files and walked back to their hotel.
‘Shall we meet for a meal in an hour or so?’ Diamond said when they got there.
‘I think not,’ Georgina said. ‘I’ve developed a headache. I’ll have room service.’
She can’t take any more of me, he thought with satisfaction. I’ll find a pub that serves pie and chips.
12
Hen Mallin had a flat in a modern block near the Hornet, only a short walk from where they were staying. She wasn’t the sort to be intimidated by senior officers, but she was likely to be keyed up. Difficult to predict how the session would go. At least she would be on home territory.
Stepping along a busy road that ran beside the ancient city wall, Diamond asked Georgina, ‘How’s your head this morning?’
‘Why?’
‘You weren’t feeling so good last night.’
‘I’m perfectly fit, thank you,’ she said with a firmness that closed that avenue. ‘I’ve decided it will be wise if you leave the questioning to me when we meet this woman.’
‘Suits me.’ He’d got the message. The skirmish over the photocopying had shaken the boss. She was nervous he would take over. And what a temptation it was to say she could do the whole shebang without him, but that would have been a cop-out. He needed to be there for Hen’s sake.
‘If I invite you to speak for any reason, I won’t mind if you address me as “ma’am” in this situation.’
‘Fine.’ But he had to stop his stomach muscles twitching with amusement.
She added, ‘I’m still agreeable to relaxing the modes of address when we’re off duty.’
‘Me, too.’ Relaxing the modes of address — an expression to savour. The old devilry made him add, ‘Is it Georgina, Georgie or George?’
She almost tripped over her own feet. ‘Is what?’
‘What you’d really like to be called.’
She turned to look at him, eyes the size of sunflowers. ‘I wasn’t insisting you use my first name. On reflection I think I prefer nothing at all. Your “ma’am” sometimes comes over as insincere. But there’s no need to go to the other extreme, absolutely no need.’
‘That’s OK, then.’
‘It cuts both ways. If you don’t like me using your first name from time to time, I won’t.’
‘You always have. It doesn’t bother me. I’d draw the line at Pete.’ And then the game became more serious as he remembered that Hen used to call him a variety of names from sport to sweetie and he’d found them all amusing. What on earth would she call him when he turned up at her front door after ten years? He didn’t want Georgina finding out they were old buddies. A strategy was needed here. ‘You did let this woman know we’re coming? Is she expecting two of us?’
‘I forget what I said. It doesn’t matter.’
‘You wouldn’t have mentioned me by name?’
‘Why should I? We’ll introduce ourselves when we get there.’
They had to go upstairs to the top of the three-storey red brick building and along an open passageway. And now the strategy came into play. Diamond made sure he was well to the rear when the door opened. Unseen by Georgina, he put a finger to his lips.
Hen must have seen the signal, but she still looked startled. Who wouldn’t? Her reaction could be passed off as nerves, he decided. The main thing was that she didn’t make it clear she knew him.
Georgina was going through the usual performance of introducing herself. ‘And this is my colleague, Detective Superintendent Diamond.’
The finger on the lips seemed to have worked. Hen had always been quick on the uptake. She nodded and asked them to come in.
Careworn, for sure. Easy to understand why she appeared more solemn than he’d ever seen her. Some silver hairs among the brown, but otherwise she appeared unaltered, small, stocky, with dark intelligent eyes. No obvious make-up. Black top and dark red pants.
Coffee was offered and declined. They were shown into a small, comfortably furnished living room smelling faintly of air freshener. Diamond chose a low armchair set back a little from Georgina. To his right was a bookcase filled with boxed CDs, all Poirot and Miss Marple, Hen’s means of escape. She’d had them as tapes when he’d last met her. The technology moves on, but old favourites are for ever.
Georgina continued to set out her stall. ‘You understand why we’re here, I’m sure. We came by invitation because we are sure to have a different perspective on what has happened than your colleagues in Sussex. We’ve studied the file on the Rigden murder, so we know the essential facts and now we’d like to hear from you.’
Hen answered in a flat, resigned voice Diamond hardly recognised. ‘I said it all before to Commander Hahn. I can’t think what else you expect me to say. I messed up and got caught out. If you’ve looked at the file you’ll know Joss — Jocelyn Green — is my niece and I should have pulled her in for questioning and didn’t.’
‘But why not?’
‘She’s family, that’s why. My brother Barry’s only daughter and a tearaway, you might say, but not a killer.’ She hesitated, as if expecting to be challenged. ‘The thing is, there was a falling-out over our father’s will and Barry and I haven’t spoken for almost twenty years. Daft, but that’s how we are. I talk to my two sisters. They’re older than me, incidentally, and thought I was crazy joining the police. Maybe I was, seeing how it all turned out. Anyway, I hear from my sisters what goes on in Barry’s family. He’s had trouble from Joss in spades. Do you need to hear this?’
‘Certainly.’
‘It’s a wretched tale. She was a brilliant child who should have gone to university. Marvellous with computers and found she could earn a small fortune as an IT consultant, so quit school at sixteen and set up her own business. Word soon got around that Joss could speed up a system or find shortcuts that meant major profits for people. She was hugely in demand, visiting businesses or private homes. It was her kick, her whole existence. Unfortunately, it all happened too suddenly. She wasn’t at all streetwise. The poor kid made a disastrous marriage to a city type when she was only nineteen that lasted about six weeks. This jackal got her into Class A drugs and messed up her head and her career and cost Barry a small fortune for the divorce. She was weaned off the drugs at more expense — one of those posh clinics — and took to drink instead. I suppose she’s an addictive personality. Amazingly she avoided getting arrested until she was twenty-two. Then she got into some stupid fight outside a club in Portsmouth with another drunk woman. She was nicked, had her DNA taken and when it was put on the national database it matched the female DNA from the BMW that featured in the Rigden murder.’
‘An enormous shock for you, I’m sure,’ Georgina said in a rare eruption of empathy.
Hen gave a nod. ‘Mind if I light up?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
She mimed using a cigarette. ‘I’m an addict, too. A family failing.’
Georgina paused for thought, then: ‘It’s your home. I don’t see that we can stop you.’
Hen reached for the packet on the display unit beside her.
‘Cigars?’ Georgina said in disbelief.
‘I don’t inhale.’
‘Everyone does, whether they’re smokers or not.’
‘Not what I meant.’ Hen used a lighter and got the thing going. ‘They last seven minutes. You said the news of Joss’s arrest must have come as a shock.’
‘I meant the DNA match.’
‘Like being hit by a wrecking ball. I went through all the phases you do. Shock, disbelief, denial. Because of the family rift I hadn’t seen her since she was a sweet little kid in a pink chiffon dress. She would have been eighteen when Rigden was murdered. I knew she went off the rails about that time, but nothing I’d heard from my sisters led me to believe she was involved in serious crime. My niece, my po-faced brother’s genius daughter, caught up in a murder? It was unthinkable.’