Diamond had been watching Barry Mallin for any sign of what was really going on in his head. Here was a controlling man who had raised a daughter who had rebelled, got into trouble and turned his world upside down. He’d sold just about everything he owned to rescue her and pull her back into line. Now he was faced with another huge family crisis. How had he dealt with it? Was he responsible for the disappearance of Joss?
‘Do you think she decided to go into hiding now that the DNA evidence has come to light?’
‘What are you suggesting — that my daughter is a murderer?’
‘I’m suggesting she’s frightened of what might happen now.’
‘She has no reason to be if she’s innocent.’
‘This is the crux of it, Mr Mallin. We don’t know if she’s innocent. The car with the body inside was stopped on a road near Chichester. The driver claimed he’d stolen it in Littlehampton and saw the driver walk away — a figure in a hooded jacket. Could that have been Jocelyn? We don’t know, but we can’t discount it. Did she wear hooded jackets at eighteen? A lot of youngsters did.’
‘I can’t remember that far back.’
His wife said, ‘To be honest, she did go through a hoodie phase about that time.’
Mallin glared at his wife and said, ‘So did a million other teenagers. It doesn’t mean a bloody thing.’
‘I expect you gave a description to the police.’
‘We did. She won’t be wearing the same stuff now.’
‘She’s five foot five and really slim,’ Cherry Mallin said, at pains to be more helpful than her husband. ‘She has red hair that she usually wears in a ponytail. And she always has a silver ring on the second finger of her right hand. It’s not valuable, but it belonged to her mother.’
Her husband said, ‘They’re not interested where it came from.’
‘Are you self-employed?’ Diamond asked.
‘What’s this about? I pay my taxes, same as anyone else.’
‘But you work for yourself?’
‘Yes.’
‘Dealing with all kinds of pests from fleas to foxes?’
‘I don’t see what this has to do with Jocelyn.’
‘You carry your equipment in the van I see outside? The usual poisons, I suppose? Traps? Bait? Do you have a gun?’
Barry Mallin frowned.
‘It’s not unreasonable,’ Diamond said. ‘You’d need to kill gulls and pigeons. We can check for a firearms licence on our computer if you’d rather not say.’
‘A twelve-bore I rarely use.’
‘In your van?’
‘Inside a locked cabinet of regulation size. Is that all right with you?’ Mallin said in a spasm of anger. ‘Now can we talk about what you’re doing to find my daughter?’
‘You haven’t met your sister Hen in twenty years, I was told,’ Diamond said.
‘That’s a family matter.’
‘We’re here to discuss family matters. Hen is under suspension because she failed to follow up the DNA report linking Joss — sorry, Jocelyn — to the murder we were speaking of. You may not have been told this, but she put her job on the line for Jocelyn’s sake. She can’t believe her niece was involved in the shooting of a man everybody seems to have liked and respected. I’m telling you this because I think you should know she refused to let the family feud stop her from doing what she perceived as the right thing. Her employers perceive it as the wrong thing, of course.’
To his credit, Barry looked surprised, if not humbled. ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘But my colleague and I have to keep an open mind, which is why we ask awkward questions. Here’s another one: did you own a gun in 2007?’
He frowned. ‘Long time ago.’
‘Mr Mallin, I want an answer.’
Now he gave an impatient sigh. ‘I was in a different job then, trading in antiques.’ He paused. ‘OK, there was good weekend shooting to be had at Goodwood. I can’t afford it any longer.’
‘So you kept a gun and your daughter might have had access to it?’
‘That’s ridiculous. She wouldn’t have the faintest idea how to use one.’
‘It’s not rocket science,’ Diamond said.
‘This is not just ridiculous, it’s offensive. She’s done stupid things in her time, but she’s not a murderer.’
‘Pity she isn’t here to tell us herself.’
14
Mel couldn’t possibly tell the others. They’d cut her into small pieces if they found out. She’d had a suspicion ever since the first day back that something had gone hideously wrong, and now she was on the trail. Miss Gibbon was officially a missing person and she felt driven to find out more.
Logically, she needed to start in school. The problem here was that the person in the know was the head, who insisted staff matters were not to be discussed with students. No use asking her why Miss Gibbon had left. A more subtle approach was needed.
On Monday mornings the head actually did some teaching, the one fixed point on the timetable, RE to the year sevens. The memory of those dreaded lessons was seared on Mel’s brain. It was all about discussing what the head called ‘issues’ and even the shyest children were expected to have an opinion and contribute. She’d suffered. When the finger pointed your way there was no escape.
But year seven’s misfortune was Mel’s opportunity. The school secretary, the well-named Mrs Bountiful, known as Bounty throughout the school, dealt with every enquiry she could while the head was teaching.
‘I’m afraid she isn’t available until later, dear,’ she said when Mel looked into her office. ‘Is it something I can help with?’
‘That would be brilliant. I’m hoping to get in touch with Miss Gibbon, who taught me art, but she left.’
‘Miss Gibbon?’ Her face changed from the usual ever-present smile to a guarded, almost pained look. ‘What’s it about?’
‘We didn’t get a chance to thank her for all the things she taught us.’
‘Well, that’s a lovely thought, but it won’t be possible now.’
‘I was wondering if you could let me have her address.’
‘I’m not allowed to give addresses to anyone.’
Mel needed a stronger reason. Think, think. ‘She was especially kind to me.’ In desperation she came out with a statement that was pure invention. ‘She lent me a book on perspective and I didn’t have the chance to return it.’
‘What a shame.’
And now she had to embroider the lie if it was to serve the purpose she needed. ‘It’s a beautiful book signed by the author, who must have been one of her college lecturers, I guess, because it has a nice inscription, “To Connie”. I think that’s her name.’ Under this pressure, Mel was discovering creative talent she hadn’t dreamed she possessed. ‘There’s a personal message with it.’
‘How unfortunate. Between you and me, Melanie, we don’t know where Miss Gibbon is now, or I’d offer to send the book on for you. Let me see.’ Bounty worked her keyboard. ‘No, all I have is her last address and we know that isn’t current because mail has been returned from there.’
‘Could you let me have it?’
‘I just explained. She isn’t there any longer.’
‘So you won’t be breaking any rules if you pass it on to me.’
‘What use is an old address?’
‘Someone there may know. I feel so guilty hanging on to the book.’
Bounty sighed. ‘This is in confidence, my dear. The head was faced with an impossible situation at the end of last term. Miss Gibbon left at short notice and hasn’t been in touch since.’
‘Should I speak to the head about it, then?’
‘Absolutely not. That’s the worst thing you could do. Don’t speak to her or any of the staff.’