“Here’s the hedge coming back in view,” Diamond said, “and this is the bit I’m interested in.”
No more than a flash of brightness against the dark band of the hedge, but almost certainly a reflection from a shiny surface — and gone in a fraction of a second. When the car came to a halt, the definition improved, but the object of all the interest was well out of shot.
“Impossible to tell,” Keith Halliwell said.
Leaman stopped the film and ran it a second time. And a third. He froze the frame, and that didn’t help.
Ingeborg said, “I’m thinking the height may be a clue. It’s about the level of a bike. If it was the side of a car, the patch of light would be broader and taller, wouldn’t it?”
“You’re losing me,” Halliwell said.
Diamond told Leaman to run it again in slow motion.
The picture quality was even less clear.
“I give up.”
Halliwell asked Leaman to let the film run on and show the stabbing. They watched the top of Greg’s head close to the dash cam after he’d got out to investigate. They saw the moving shape of his attacker in mid-distance creeping towards the front of the car. Next, Greg’s head in silhouette crossed the screen from right to left when he backed against the bonnet. Then the close-up of the fist gripping the knife.
“Stop it there.”
Diamond’s voice had fresh urgency.
The image froze.
“For crying out loud, why didn’t I see this before? That’s the back of his hand.”
“So...?” Halliwell said.
“The killer is left-handed. It’s obvious, isn’t it? He’s facing Greg, so his left side is closer to us.”
Silence.
He could almost hear their brains ticking over.
Halliwell was the first to speak. “We should all have spotted it when we first saw the film. We were so caught up in the killing that we didn’t give a toss how the knife was held.”
“One thing is certain now,” Diamond said. “The killer can’t be Will Legat. I’ve watched him hold the rope he uses as a lead for the dog. I saw him this morning in the pottery carry his coffee out of the kitchen. He’s right-handed. He’s got to be innocent.”
“How about Fergus?”
“I’m trying to think whether he’s right-handed as well,” Diamond said. “I haven’t seen as much of him as Legat.”
Jean Sharp spoke up for the first time. “Why don’t you call Paul? He’s got Fergus under observation.”
Paul Gilbert wasn’t high in Diamond’s thoughts. His last order to the young DC had been to stick with the man, whatever happened. “Would you get him for me?”
She got through and handed him the phone. He asked Gilbert where he was.
“Erm, it’s a pub, guv. They finished filming and derigging some time ago and some of them ended up here. I’m keeping watch on Fergus, like you asked. He’s in no hurry to leave.”
“And I know why. He’s got some explaining to do when he gets home. Have you had a few drinks yourself?”
“Just the one, a half, as cover.”
“And he’s still in sight? Tell me something. When he picks up his drink, does he hold it with his left hand or his right?”
There was a pause.
“His right. He’s holding it now.”
“You’re sure? He’s right-handed?”
“Is that what you’re asking? Yes, I’ve watched him using the mallet when he’s laying the track. It’s always in his right hand.”
In a voice drained of animation, Diamond said, “In that case, you can drink up and go home. Your work is done for the day.” A pounding had started in his chest and ears, a sure sign of the hypertension the doctors were always warning him about. He handed the phone back to Jean Sharp and sat on the edge of a desk. When he’d got himself together again, he raised his voice for all to listen. “Did you hear that? Fergus is in the clear. Our two prime suspects are innocent.” Out of ideas, hunched and inert, a beaten man, he added, “Where do we go from here? Don’t ask. You’d better start a whip-round for my retirement present.”
Back at home the same evening, Paloma said what none of the team had dared say: “Retirement? No, no no. This isn’t like you, beating yourself up.”
“I’m simply facing facts. I’ve had a long career—”
She didn’t allow him to go on. “With any number of successes.”
“Okay, and this time I got the breakthrough that is every investigating officer’s dream: film footage of the crime. But I missed the most obvious thing about the killer.”
“You didn’t. You were the only one who spotted it.”
“Eventually.”
“Listen, Peter, it wasn’t obvious at all. I saw the film myself and it didn’t dawn on me that the person holding the knife was left-handed.”
“That’s not surprising. You watched it only once and said you couldn’t look anymore.”
She traded some straight talk of her own. “No offence, but I’m not a thick-skinned policeman. Your entire team missed it and they must have watched the film over and over. The knife is raised and all the viewer can think of is the violence to come. We’re not looking at the hand.”
“I know what you mean,” he said from the depth of his despair, “but it isn’t just that mistake. Everyone knows I’ve lost the plot. I called out the dive team and convinced myself they’d find something.”
“You ordered a search. That’s what detectives do. It needed to be done.”
“And all it produced was a dead snake. I’m a laughing stock. I had forty officers searching the field for a day and a half and what did they find? A few fag ends that it turns out were nowhere near the crime scene and must have been dropped by some farmworker. When all this gets back to Georgina, as it will, it’s curtains for me. I’d rather resign before I’m sacked, so I’m seeing her tomorrow at eight thirty.”
She widened her eyes. “You’ve already made the appointment?”
“It will make her day.”
“I wouldn’t count on that. She relies on you more than she’ll ever admit. She puts the boot in when she can because you sometimes need kicking, but if you do this she’ll be in schtuck, to put it mildly. There’s another expression about a creek and a paddle that comes to mind.”
“I don’t give a toss about Georgina. This is the best thing for the team.”
“They won’t think so. I can’t understand why you’re doing this. I thought you had a breakthrough. Didn’t the search party find the tyre print of a motorbike?”
“That was Wolfgang and his CSI team. Another chunk out of Georgina’s budget.”
“Have you checked your suspects’ motorbikes?”
“Fergus is the only one who rides a bike and he’s right-handed. He can’t have done the stabbing. Legat goes everywhere on his two legs unless he can bum a lift and he is also right-handed. They were the two who could theoretically have murdered Greg Deans.”
“Only those two out of all the people involved in the show?”
“That was my belief until today when both proved negative.”
After some thought, Paloma said, “Peter, how’s your maths? Don’t two negatives make a positive?”
“How does that help?”
She smiled and looked a little embarrassed. Apparently she didn’t have an answer. “Sorry. It popped into my head and I thought you might make something of it. Just because Fergus didn’t strike the fatal blows, it doesn’t mean he wasn’t there. I’d get his tyres checked if I were you. Have you thought about Candida as the killer?”