The Circle

Hen pictured North Street: the paved walkway ended halfway up, north of the red-brick Council House, and traffic could approach through St Peter's and park at the side. 'Did she say why?'

'Research.'

'I know. Researching what?'

'She didn't explain, guv.'

'And you didn't press her?'

Stella came to his aid. 'You know who lives in North Street, above the building society? Tudor.'

'So he does,' Hen said. 'Did she mention Tudor?'

Humphreys said, 'No, guv.'

'What happened, then?'

'Nothing, according to her. It was all about atmosphere — the city at night.'

'Atmosphere, huh? The action was in Vicars Close. Are you sure she didn't go there?'

'She was very clear about that, guv. She stayed where she was.'

'Imbibing the atmosphere?'

'I suppose.'

'How long for?'

'About an hour. Then she reckoned she'd got what she wanted and drove back home and went to bed.'

'She says.' Hen was silent for a while, brooding on what she'd heard. 'I wonder what else wasn't important enough to mention. It's all right, Andy. I'm not taking a swipe at you. You did good, lad.' She turned back to Stella. 'And what else did we glean? Were the rest of our beauties all tucked up in their little beds by three a.m.?'

'Pretty much, guv. Some went later than others. Anton was online on his computer, and can prove it. Tudor was writing a new chapter of his life story until late, but reckons he was in bed by two.'

'Anyone away from home?'

'Not this time.'

'And that's the sum of this morning's interviews?'

'The bits worth mentioning.'

'Statements on my desk before you leave tonight. Wait.' Hen put up a restraining hand. 'I haven't finished. I want to pick your brains. Here we are with a third death by arson. One rather unpopular man and two inoffensive women. We had a few theories as to why Edgar Blacker was murdered. Fewer for Miss Snow. And I can't think of any reason at all why Jessie had to go. Can you?'

'She was an easy target,' DC Shilling suggested. 'Like Miss Snow.'

'Lived alone, you mean?'

'And in the centre of town.'

'That's risky, surely?'

'Plenty of escape routes, plenty of cover.'

'Fair enough, but you seem to be assuming they were killed for no other reason than convenience.'

Shilling gave a shrug. 'If the idea is to pick off members of the circle one by one, it makes sense to start with the easy ones.'

Johnny Cherry said as if to a child, 'Blacker was the first to go, and he wasn't in the circle.'

'All I'm saying,' Shilling said, 'is that the two women were sitting ducks.'

'No, you said the idea was to pick off members of the circle and I'm challenging that assumption.'

Hen sensed that there was more behind Cherry's remark. The man was still a peevish, grudging presence at meetings, unable to get over his displeasure that the investigation had been taken from him. But if he had something to contribute she wanted to hear it. 'What's your take on this, Johnny?'

'I reckon more than one person is involved.' He paused to watch them all sit up, and it certainly created interest.

'Go on. We're listening.'

'As you know, I nicked Maurice McDade, the chairman, for the murder of Blacker, and I still think the case would stand up in court. Okay, someone else must have started the fire at Miss Snow's, but McDade could have been behind that, too.'

Frowning, Hen said, 'That's unlikely, isn't it? Miss Snow was a friend of his.'

Johnny was enjoying this, spacing his words for maximum effect. 'She was the one who knew about his past, his jail term. And she betrayed him. She told someone else. Who did she tell? Naylor, the new man. And who nearly died in a fire at the boat house? Naylor.' He looked around for approval, and there were certainly some eyebrows raised. 'Then Miss Snow herself was killed.'

'Who are you suggesting did this?'

'McDade's partner, Fran.'

Shilling gave a long, low whistle. Everyone else was dumbstruck.

Hen's stomach gave a lurch and her self-confidence plummeted. She'd forgotten Fran. All this concentration on the circle members had clouded her judgement. It was a whopping oversight, and she'd been shown up in front of the team. She grappled with the concept for some seconds. Johnny, sod him, was right. Fran was well placed to know what was going on and had a motive. Digging deep for a scrap of credibility, she said, 'She's rather elderly to be a fire-raiser, isn't she?'

Johnny dismissed that with a sneer. 'Is there an upper age limit for arsonists? As far as I know, Fran isn't disabled. She's devoted to McDade. Maybe she acted with his encouragement, maybe not. Let's not forget she was married to one of the Richardson gang.' He leaned back in his chair, savouring the impact he'd made. 'If it was up to me. . But of course it isn't'

'If it was up to you, what?'

'I'd find out where she was on the nights of each of the fires.'

Hen said, 'We can do that, but before we get too excited how does the latest fire fit into this hypothesis?'

'We don't know until we question Fran. Jessie Warmington-Smith was one of the founders of the circle, wasn't she? It could be that she, too, knew about McDade's past form.'

He'd obviously thought this through. Hen hadn't looked outside the circle because it seemed that the crimes required inside knowledge. His theory had to be tested. Hen said she would follow it up.

'You can send me,' he offered.

'I'll do it,' she said. There were limits.

No one pointed out that if Johnny's theory was right, Hen had made a fatal mistake in releasing Maurice McDade. No one needed to point it out. They all knew Jessie Warrnington-Smith might still be alive.

She made another effort to claw back some respect. 'I'm still giving high priority to Naomi Green. I want a printout of everything on this website of hers. Duncan, will you see to it?'

'No problem,' Shilling said.

'And we'll demand the same from anyone else who has been writing about the case. Tudor, for example. Who interviewed Tudor?'

Stella raised her hand.

'Why the long face, Stell?'

'He's not going to like this.'

'He'll be flattered,' Hen said. 'They're writers, these people. They want to be read.'

She wound up the meeting. Johnny Cherry had a grin as wide as a grand piano. His intervention had rocked the team's confidence in her. Divided loyalties threatened.

DC Shilling was the last to leave, and for one humbling moment Hen feared he was going to offer sympathy. But it was something else. 'I've got a scrap of information for you, guv. Don't know if it helps. It's about that photo of Blacker and his unknown friend. You asked me to find out where he was working at Christmas, nineteen eighty-two, the year it was taken.'

'And?'

'He was with a magazine group called Lanarkshire Press.'

'Up in Scotland?'

'The name's misleading. It operated from a trading estate in Tilbury. You know Tilbury? Thames estuary.'

'I know Tilbury. Go on.'

'They specialised in men's magazines, soft porn.'

'I remember someone saying Blacker had done a bit of that.'

'None of them were big sellers. They kept trying different titles, producing a couple of issues and then thinking of something else. Like Headlights made a big thing of boobs and Hot Buns was mainly bottoms.'

'Okay, I get the drift,' Hen said.

'Well, towards the end of eighty-two, they had this idea of a mag with pictures of girls who were supposed to be amateurs and first-timers. Some men prefer them to professional models.'

'Like "Readers' Wives".'

'Same idea, except that the title they came up with was "Innocents".'

'Was it indeed?' she said, her spirits lifting a little. 'So the writing on the back of the photo wasn't what we thought at all. It wasn't a comment on the two blokes, it was a porno mag and they were at the Christmas party. Nice work, Duncan. That's a mystery solved. A small one, but who knows how useful it may be?'