“We hope,” she said.
“It was smart, stuffing them into suitcases and sinking them here where the narrowboat is moored.”
She smiled. “Until you brought in the divers. So you’re assuming Candida was an accessory from the start?”
“She must have known what was going on.”
“How do you plan to play this, guv?”
“Largely off the top of my head. Let’s see how Fergus reacts. That should tell us a lot. Will he leave work and rush back here, or play cool and deny everything, or go on the run? Paul is shadowing him.”
“Shall I make sure Candida stays put?”
“Good thinking, yes.”
Their lunch was served, a salad sandwich for Ingeborg, a beef and ale pie for him, with a double helping of chips.
He said after a few seconds to appreciate the first bite, “What you said about being ready to nick Will Legat, I’d rather you didn’t mention it to Keith or the others. Not good for morale, knowing the boss almost screwed up.”
“Understood,” she said, looking at the ceiling.
“You don’t think I’m losing my touch?”
“Why would I think that, guv? It made sense at the time.”
“Be honest with me. Did you ever believe Will was the killer?”
Ingeborg took time to think about her answer. “Maybe it’s the effect he has on people. I haven’t seen as much of him as you have. I know you were suspicious of him from early on. I rather admire him. He makes me smile and it’s difficult to picture him as the man who stabbed Greg Deans. My head said he must be a killer, but my heart felt differently.”
From the window, they saw Jean Sharp drive into the forecourt in her husband’s Volvo. Keith Halliwell and John Leaman were passengers. Diamond would have stood them drinks, he said when they came in, but he was sure they wouldn’t want his pie to get cold. Halliwell was quick to say he needed to update Diamond on Fergus and couldn’t get the drinks in either. Jean had done the driving, which left Leaman to stump up for the round. “Mine is a real ale, John,” Diamond called after him. “I don’t mind which.”
The news of Fergus was that he was at the new film location on the ribbon of steps known as Jacob’s Ladder that lead up Beechen Cliff to Alexandra Park, one of the best viewpoints in Bath. Nothing was allowed to stop the show, not even the demise of the producer. “Paul should be there by now,” Halliwell said. “I’ll get him for you.” And before Diamond could take another mouthful, he was handed the phone.
“Paul? Where exactly are you?”
“About halfway up, guv.”
“I can hear you breathing.”
“It’s steeper than I thought. Stupidly I didn’t start from the top. It was a slog. We had to hurry. But we’ve found the film unit and they’re shooting a chase scene with Swift on the run from the inspector, riding down the steps on her motorbike.”
“Sabine?”
“She’s here for the close-ups, and the stunt double, Ann Bugg, is doing the dangerous stuff.”
“Is Fergus there?”
“Busy with another guy putting down rails for a tracking shot. They’ve got their work cut out. The ground’s so uneven.”
“He can’t leave?”
“No chance in the next half hour.”
“Where are you — out of sight, I hope?”
“With some people who’ve gathered to watch. He’s not aware who we are, I’m sure. I can take a video if you like.”
“Just keep me informed and don’t let him out of sight. He will have heard what’s going on here from Candida. The first chance he gets, he’ll be off. Are there cars there?”
“It’s too steep for that. Sabine is complaining about sitting on the bike even when it isn’t moving.”
“Don’t get distracted. Follow Fergus if he moves off. And take care. He’ll be carrying the knife.”
After the drinks arrived and the pie and chips were eaten, Diamond brought the team up to speed on what to expect at 2 P.M. “The focus is firmly on Fergus and Candida now. We’ll nick them as soon as the suitcase has been opened.”
“There’s the child, guv,” Jean Sharp reminded him.
“Yes, I’ve asked social services to send someone over. If they don’t get here in time, would you take care of Bart until they come?”
“No problem.”
“That’s a phrase I never use,” he said. “Problems have a way of rearing up, especially with kids. It’s how we deal with them that matters.” He heard his own words echo worryingly in his brain. He was dealing with his own problems by assigning duties. Halliwell was to get aboard the Daisy Belle, the boat moored next to Deck the Halls, force the lock and find out what was inside. “Be prepared for horrors, Keith. I have a hunch this is where they store the bodies.”
Some minutes later, general conversation had taken over and Sharp moved to the empty seat beside Diamond. She said she’d been waiting for the right moment to mention something.
“You’re okay?” he asked her.
“It’s not about me, guv. Are you still suspicious about Mary Wroxeter’s death? It doesn’t seem to fit in with the three men who went missing.”
“True, but I haven’t forgotten her. I’m concentrating on the men because we seem to be making real progress with them.”
She blushed. “I’m sorry. This isn’t a good time.”
How could he help her get over her lack of confidence with him? “It’s as good as any, Jean. I’m listening.”
“Well, you said Candida is in the frame now.”
“I mean it. She’s got to be involved.”
“The other day when you and I went to see her, you let me question her about the evening Mary died.”
“And you did a fine job,” he said, seizing on a chance to show appreciation. “Thanks to you, we now know why Candida offered to drive Mary home after the evening in the pub. She wanted her to be the first to know she was pregnant. Has something else cropped up?”
“Er... yes. She told us the truth, but not the whole truth, I think.”
“Oh?”
“I felt there must be a bigger reason why she was so keen to share her news with Mary before she told anyone else.”
“You found it — another reason?”
“I think so. Mary was her mother.”
He slopped ale on the table. “Candida’s mother? How on earth...?”
“I got her date of birth from the film office. They keep records even of staff who have left.”
“And...?”
“I ordered a copy of her birth certificate and it came this morning. You have to supply the date and the names of the parents. I took a chance with both and I was right about Mary.”
“That is a discovery.” He pressed his fingers against his mouth as another mystery presented itself. “Who was the father, then? Wait, I think I know. Candida is mixed race. He must be the guy who played Paul Robeson. The Welsh tenor.”
“Aubrey Jones.”
“Aubrey Jones. Candida Jones. What an idiot I am. Why didn’t I make the connection?”
“There was no reason to,” she said. “We weren’t asking ourselves who Candida’s parents were.”
“So how did you get on to it?”
She lowered her eyes and turned self-conscious again. “By being nosy, more than anything. I wanted to know why it was that Candida had this loyalty to Mary as long as three years after she’d left the job, so I got thinking.”
“To some tune — that’s brilliant, Jean. And now we know, it begs all kinds of questions. Why keep it secret that they were mother and daughter?”
“I guess it could have looked like favouritism while she was working as her production assistant. Other people in the company could complain.”