“So sad,” he said. “A brilliant brain. Was any evidence given about the hours leading up to her death?”
“They’d had a long day filming at Bottle Yard studios and finally got the scene done to Mary’s satisfaction, so Mary and some of the actors and crew celebrated at a nearby pub, the Shield and Dagger.”
“And Candida — was she there?”
“She was.”
“She turned up at the pub that evening, to meet with old friends, I suppose. Mary had about four vodkas and appeared to be well in control of herself. In fact, she organised a taxi for one of the actors who was definitely slurring her words.”
“What time did they finish?”
“It wasn’t late. Before nine.”
“She must have done the heavy drinking at home. Where did she live?”
“A house in Whitchurch village, not far from the studios.”
“Where’s that in relation to the pub?”
“The Shield and Dagger is her local, only ten minutes away.”
“You’ve done well, finding all this. What else do you hope to discover?”
Jean Sharp looked a little embarrassed by the question. As the newest member of the team, had she exceeded her duties? “I just wanted to know why on that particular night she drank so much. We know she was alcoholic. Everyone knew, but she was managing it quite well. She must have been, to make all the decisions she had to.”
“It’s the nature of the condition,” Diamond said. “They’re not really in control. They drink so much of the stuff that their body adjusts and they appear to cope, but there’s a tipping point.”
“But why that night?”
“We need to ask someone who was there.”
“The main witness at the inquest was Candida.”
His thoughts were racing ahead. “Do we know if Mary went home alone?”
“Candida drove her. It wasn’t far, but it was a kindness.”
“We’d better find Candida — unless you’re ahead of me.”
She was.
“That’s a bit of a problem, guv. The TV people seem to think she’s still living in the area, but I haven’t traced her through electoral registers or anything else I can think of.”
“Maybe she doesn’t vote.”
“I tried hospital records because she left the job to start a family and she may have gone into the RUH to have the baby, but they won’t divulge patient details. Day nurseries: same result.”
“Rightly so. You’re up against the Data Protection Act.”
“She hasn’t done anything unlawful as far as we know, so we can’t claim we need the information as part of a criminal investigation.”
“Stymied.” He scratched his head. If Jean Sharp couldn’t root out the information, was that the end of the matter? He’d come to rely on this young officer as a second-to-none researcher. But it occurred to him that all her discoveries were made using the internet or the phone. She rarely left the office. “We must explore the grapevine.”
She looked uneasy at the prospect.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I know who to ask. Ingeborg used to be a journalist. She’s trained to know what’s going on. If she’s finished writing the press release, we’ll ask her to put out some feelers. I’m not giving up on this.”
14
“Candida wasn’t hiding from us, then,” Diamond said. “Well done. I was confident you’d track her down.”
Ingeborg shrugged. “There was nothing clever about it. Some of the Bottle Yard studios crowd meet up at the Shield and Dagger at the end of the day. I joined them last night and got chatting.”
“Jean will be pleased. Have you told her?”
“Not yet. I thought you’d want to know first.”
“I’m thinking of taking her with me. Get her out of the madhouse for a bit.”
“She’ll enjoy that... I think.”
Jean Sharp was overawed when he asked. She’d not been on an assignment with the boss before.
“When I visit a female witness, I make a point of having a woman officer sitting beside me,” Diamond told her. “Ingeborg usually gets the job, but I thought you’d like to be in on this one. Did you bring your car today?” He knew she often drove an expensive Volvo belonging to her husband.
“Yes, guv.”
“You can be chauffeur as well, then.”
Her eyes registered something close to panic.
“Don’t worry. We’ll pay for the fuel.”
The cost of petrol wasn’t the problem. Diamond was known on the team to be a nervous passenger. Fortunately it wouldn’t be a long trip, just over ten miles, and, as he explained, he liked to be driven well within the speed limit.
“Do you know Saltford Marina?” he asked as they prepared to leave.
“Can’t say I do, guv.”
“Me neither. Never heard of it. The car will know where to go, I hope.”
She set the GPS. “It should do.”
“Then it will be up to you and me to find a narrowboat called Deck the Halls. Shouldn’t be difficult. The marina isn’t huge.” Wanting to appear more relaxed than he felt, he became chatty. “Deck the Halls. People choose strange names for boats. My guess is that the first owners were a Mr. and Mrs. Hall. You can drop your speed a little. We’re in no hurry.”
Jean Sharp dealt with her own nerves by saying little and concentrating on her driving, her knuckles white from her grip on the steering wheel. Diamond’s chat became a monologue.
“I used to think of Saltford as a boring stretch of the A4, but I’ve learned more about it over the years and now I know it was where Swift and Proud Productions had their office on some trading estate before they came to Bath. Did you see the road works sign? Temporary traffic lights. They seem to be slowing down. I don’t know if Candida has been living in the canal boat ever since. There could be kids. And a partner. It’s green. We can move again, but watch out for the idiot coming the other way. I’ve met them in my time. They think they can sneak through somehow and next thing they hit you head-on.”
Sharp got them to Saltford without screaming at him to shut up and they parked outside the Riverside Inn right next to the marina. “Good facilities,” Diamond said, meaning the pub, not the moorings or the marina buildings.
They found the gate, checked at the office and were told Deck the Halls had a long-term berth at one end.
The name was in large white letters on the prow of a long red boat. “And someone is at home,” Diamond said. The door at the front end stood open. “Better not cause alarm by stepping aboard.” The four windows along the side were at hip level. He tapped on the glass and immediately a toddler came out to the foredeck and looked up at them from under a mass of black curls. A confident kid considering his pants were round his ankles.
“Looks like we interrupted him,” Diamond said.
A voice from inside called out, “What are you doing, Bart? Get back on your potty.”
Bart didn’t seem to have heard. He continued to eye up the visitors.
“Better do as Mummy says,” Diamond tried to advise him.
A young woman of mixed race emerged, said, “For God’s sake,” grabbed the child and hoisted him inside. She reappeared a moment later and said, “If it’s religion or a survey, save your breath. I’m not interested.”
“It’s neither, ma’am,” Diamond said. “May we call you Candida?”
She glared. “How do you know my name?”
“Our job,” he said. “Avon and Somerset Police. Can we come aboard and speak in private?”
“I don’t have much choice, do I? Mind your heads when you come in.”
The inside seemed poorly lit until their eyes adjusted. A narrow cabin with two swivel armchairs and a TV. Shelving along the sides loaded with books, crockery and soft toys making the best use of the elongated living space. Hooks on the shelves holding cups and mugs.