Two of my best mates vanished and they weren’t the sort to go without telling anyone.
It’s bloody efficient, whatever it is. No mess and no traces. Someone’s making a career out of it.
Diamond turned to Montacute. ‘I’d like a printout.’
‘What for?’
‘Just do it. How long have you been here?’
‘Me? In Chichester? I came in 2005.’ He tapped the keys and a printer behind them jerked into action.
‘So you were around for the Rigden murder inquiry. Were you on the team?’
‘I was a dogsbody then, knocking on doors and taking statements from rich berks in Slindon who had him as their gardener.’
‘He was well liked, I heard.’
‘Pillar of the bloody community. Nothing was too much trouble. There was a lot of anger about the murder. I reckon if they’d got their hands on Stapleton, the killer, they’d have strung him up from the nearest tree.’
‘Is there any question he was guilty?’
‘Bang to rights, wasn’t he? Caught in a stolen car with the body trussed up in the boot and two grand stuffed in his clothes.’
‘Were you in on the interviews?’
Montacute shook his head. ‘Hen and a DI called Austen did all that.’
‘Is Austen still around?’
‘Retired and died the same year. Surprising how often that happens.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Have you got long to go?’
Diamond treated the last remark with the contempt it deserved. This pain in the arse was pushing him to the limit. Exactly why, he couldn’t tell. The guy had no loyalty to Hen. ‘Is the Rigden investigation still on file?’
‘Must be. If you want that printed out, we’ll need a fresh ream of paper and more ink in the printer.’
‘It’s as large as that?’
‘Took hundreds of man-hours just typing all the statements.’
‘Get it on screen, then.’
Montacute glared and worked the keyboard with one finger to make clear it was all so much trouble.
‘Now get the printing under way,’ Diamond said. ‘If you do need more paper, we’ll deal with that when it happens.’
‘You want the whole boiling lot?’
‘All of it. Was Stapleton’s story about stealing the car in Littlehampton followed up?’
‘You bet it was. I was one of the mugs sent there to check on it. Couldn’t find one sodding witness to back him up.’
‘Where did you try?’
‘The pub where he said he was sitting across the street from the BMW. Can’t remember the name now.’
‘The Steam Packet.’
A sharp look. ‘It was, yeah. He was known there. Regular drinker, they said, but no one remembered serving him the evening this was supposed to have happened. Of course he claimed the pub was practically empty that night and the barmaid who served him had left the job. Convenient, eh?’
‘He also said someone in a hood parked the car outside and walked away across the bridge,’ Diamond said. ‘Did you follow that up?’
Now there was a look of surprise. ‘Have you been there?’
Diamond nodded.
‘Well, you’ll know there’s nothing over the bridge except some seedy-looking boathouses and a yacht club. If the kid in the hood was going to the club, he would have driven there from the other side of the river, wouldn’t he?’
‘Did you make enquiries at the yacht club?’
‘Yep.’ He grinned. ‘If a hoodie turned up there, they’d remember, believe you me. They didn’t. Stapleton’s story didn’t stand up.’
‘Except for the jammer and the key programmer he had with him when he was stopped.’
Montacute wasn’t impressed. ‘No one ever said he wasn’t a car thief. Of course he had the tools. He half-inched the BMW from a car park in Arundel with the clear intent of using it to transport the corpse. This was the day before he was nicked.’
‘He’s maintained his innocence ever since.’
‘They all do.’
The phone on the desk buzzed.
Montacute rolled his eyes. ‘It never stops.’ He reached for the thing and spoke his name.
Diamond waited while Montacute listened to the message coming through.
‘Isn’t there anyone else? I’m in conference here.’
Good name for it.
‘All right, I’ll come,’ he said finally. He stood up and told Diamond, ‘This is all I need. Schoolgirl who thinks her art mistress has done a disappearing act.’
‘Another missing person, then?’
‘It’s hardly one for the serious crimes unit.’
‘Never mind,’ Diamond said. ‘I’ll join you.’
A constable appeared and showed Mel into a room with a table and wall-mounted recording equipment just like she’d seen on TV when suspects were interviewed. Two plainclothes officers who looked important came in. One was bearded and watchful and the other was large, with a face that looked wrong for a policeman, as if he doubled as a stand-up comedian.
‘Don’t be scared,’ the large one said. ‘It’s more private talking in here than out in the reception area.’
She was asked her name for the second time and had to supply her address as well. They introduced themselves as Detective Inspector Montacute and Detective Superintendent Diamond. They didn’t seem all that comfortable with each other.
‘So you came in to report a missing person?’ the bearded one, Montacute, said.
‘Not really,’ Mel said. ‘You already know she’s missing. She’s been on the list since July.’
DI Montacute looked at a piece of paper the constable had brought in. ‘This is Constance Gibbon?’
‘Yes.’
‘Art teacher at Priory Park?’
‘Not any more,’ Mel said.
‘Right. She resigned at the end of last term. Have you got a new teacher now?’
She nodded. No reason to talk about Tom. This was about Miss Gibbon.
‘I don’t understand, then,’ DI Montacute said. ‘If she left, why are you bothered about her?’
Before Mel could answer, the other officer, DS Diamond, said, ‘Let’s cut to the chase, Melanie. What do you want to tell us?’
She hesitated. In truth, she had nothing to tell. She was there to gather information, not give it. ‘I saw she’s missing, but, like, nobody seems to care.’
‘Nobody in school, you mean?’
‘She means us,’ DI Montacute said.
‘Both. Well, I can’t expect you to care. She’s just a name to you.’
‘Doesn’t mean we’re not concerned,’ Diamond said. ‘You like Miss Gibbon?’
‘Not especially. Her lessons were pretty boring, to be honest. But I don’t know why she left so suddenly.’
‘Have you spoken to your teachers?’
‘No one is saying. They clam up when I ask.’
‘As if they know something you don’t?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Did Miss Gibbon ever say anything about her life outside the school?’
Mel shook her head. ‘Never. She was, like, stone-faced if anyone asked.’
DI Montacute took up the questioning again. ‘Reading the file, it seems enquiries were made at your school after Miss Gibbon was reported missing by her sister and they weren’t able to help.’
‘I don’t know about that.’
‘The school couldn’t get in touch. Letters weren’t being delivered.’
She shrugged as if this was all outside her knowledge.
‘You said she could be boring. Was there any open hostility to her?’
‘I wouldn’t say open, but after she’d gone, everyone cheered when we heard she’d left.’
‘And you obviously feel different now.’
She spoke from the heart. ‘It’s like this. I don’t particularly want her back teaching us, but I have, like, this really bad feeling something terrible has happened and I can’t just ignore it.’