‘It’s her decision, Jimmy, not his.’ The expression on Houghton’s face might have been a smile.
‘Sure. Fine. OK. But we’re missing something, aren’t we?’
‘What?’
‘Symons is a bloke. He knows about blokes. He knows how territorial they can get. More to the point, he knows Kinsey. And when it comes to territory, he knows that Kinsey has to be top dog. There isn’t a lamp post he won’t piss on. Including Tash Donovan.’
‘That’s unnecessary.’
‘My apologies. But you see the logic? You see where this thing leads? Symons knows Kinsey can’t help himself as far as Donovan’s concerned. He knows the guy probably wants every bit of her, for keeps. They win their race. All the guys get pissed in the pub. They go back to Kinsey’s apartment. Donovan’s the only one still standing. After Kinsey’s gone off to bed they all go home. Donovan and Symons are in their little car together. They have a monster row. Maybe Kinsey’s said something out of turn. Maybe he’s come on to Donovan in the apartment. Whatever. By the time they’re back home, or tucked up in some little lay-by, it’s got really nasty. Symons has had enough. He’s going to sort this guy out. Bosh. Back he goes.’
‘How does he get in?’
‘She’ll have a key. Bound to.’
‘So she’s part of this? She drives him back? Lends a hand? Gets rid of the guy who’s keeping them afloat?’
‘I’ve no idea, boss. All I know is that they’re alibiing each other but they’ve got fuck all corroboration. Plus Symons isn’t comfortable with what his partner’s up to. All it takes is a night on the piss. That and a decent opportunity. From where I’m sitting, Symons had both.’
Houghton nodded. It was true that booze played a huge part in most murders.
‘What about this film of his? Why would he want to kiss all that goodbye?’
‘Because there was something else in his life that was even more important.’
‘Donovan?’
‘Of course. These people are off the planet most of the time, Symons especially. I’m not saying for a moment that his movie wasn’t important. It was huge. But you know why? Because of her input. Because she made the running — the idea to begin with, getting the development money out of Kinsey, starring in their little movie trailer so Kinsey could perve over it, all of that was her. She’s the driver, boss. She’s in charge of this relationship. Without her, Symons would be nowhere. Fuck the movie. When Symons feels under threat, Donovan is what really matters.’
Houghton was silent. Suttle knew she sensed the logic in the case he was trying to make but he knew too that she was under the same cosh as Nandy. In every investigation you think court from the off. So where was the incontestable evidence to pin either of these people to Kinsey’s death? First call in any murder lay with the Crown Prosecution Service. And so far, as Houghton pointed out, the CPS wouldn’t waste a second on this horse shit.
‘It’s supposition, Jimmy. It’s a nice little fairy tale. It’s neat. It sounds more than plausible. But it’s still supposition.’
‘It’s early days, boss. We’re not through yet.’
‘You mean you’re not through yet.’
‘Exactly. Help would be nice but I’m not complaining.’
‘Remind me how long you’ve got on the Coroner’s file.’
‘Another week. Give or take.’
‘And will that be enough?’
‘Sure,’ Suttle forced a grin. ‘You’re spoiling me.’
He phoned Gina Hamilton when he got back downstairs. The office was still empty. He could tell at once that she’d been expecting his call.
‘How about an early drink?’ he said.
‘How about supper?’
‘Where?’
‘My place if you don’t mind pasta.’
‘I love pasta.’
She gave him a postcode and a street number. He’d never been to Modbury in his life.
‘What time?’
‘You say.’
Suttle checked his watch. 17.12. He still had a number of calls to make and the rush-hour traffic on the A38 could be brutal.
‘Seven o’clock?’
‘Perfect. If you’re late don’t even bother knocking.’
She rang off, leaving Suttle gazing at the phone. He knew he should be calling Lizzie. He knew, at the very least, he should give himself some kind of cover. A couple of late interviews. A squad meet he couldn’t afford to miss. But then he was back in front of Symons’ PC, watching Lizzie and Pendrick hauling the skiff away from the beach, and he knew he couldn’t be bothered. A moment later the office door opened and he found himself looking at the Office Manager. Leslie had taken a call earlier. It was personal for Jimmy and it sounded urgent.
‘She wouldn’t leave a name but she wants you to bell her,’ she laid a number on Suttle’s desk. ‘It’s a Portsmouth number. I checked.’
Pendrick called again as Lizzie was trying to wrestle Grace upstairs for a bath. Thinking it was Jimmy, she hesitated a moment then decided to ignore it, but when it rang a second time she returned downstairs.
Pendrick apologised for phoning so late. He hoped it wasn’t a problem.
‘It’s not. Did you phone just now?’
‘Yes. Tomorrow’s off. We’ve got a big front coming in and there’s no way we’ll be going to Topsham.’
‘Oh. .’ Lizzie tried to mask her disappointment. ‘Never mind.’
‘I had another idea.’
‘Does it involve rowing?’
‘Sadly not.’
‘Thank Christ for that.’
Pendrick laughed. He was planning a trip to the north coast. Wondered if she’d like to come along.
‘The north coast of where?’
‘Cornwall. Just a place I think you might like.’
‘Is Grace invited?’
‘No.’
‘At least you’re honest.’ It was her turn to laugh.
There was a moment of silence. Lizzie could hear a car approaching up the lane. She very much wanted it not to be Jimmy. The car went past.
‘What time?’ she said. ‘And where?’
Suttle made the call from a lay-by on the A38. As he expected, the number belonged to Marie Mackenzie.
‘I’ve made some inquiries,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why I bothered but there it is.’
‘And?’
‘It turns out there’s very little I can do. Your friend Winter has made some serious enemies. These people aren’t as stupid as you might think.’
‘I never thought for a moment they were.’
‘Then this won’t come as a surprise.’
‘What?’
He listened intently for the best part of a minute, doing his best to shield the phone from the thunder of the passing traffic. Finally, at her prompting, he reached for a pen. In the absence of anything else, he wrote the number on the back of his hand. Pompey again.
‘And you really think they’ll leave Lizzie and Grace alone?’
‘Yes. As long as you make the call.’
‘I have your word on that?’
‘It’s not my word you need. It’s theirs. Make the call. That’s my advice. Everything else is down to you.’
Modbury was a small town cupped by rolling green hills south of the A38. Gina Hamilton’s house lay in a small estate of newbuilds. Suttle had looked at similar developments in Exeter last year when he was searching for somewhere they could live and knew he’d die in a house like this. Tiny windows. Tiny rooms. And a scrap of threadbare turf instead of a garden.
Hamilton’s Golf was parked outside, the tailgate open. The front door to the house was open as well and she stepped into the sunshine as Suttle approached.
‘I just got back myself,’ she said. ‘Give me a hand?’
Suttle helped her carry shopping and a couple of tins of paint into the kitchen. She’d been to Sainsbury and B amp;Q on the way home. Lots of stuff for the freezer and four bottles of Australian Chardonnay. Suttle gave her a bottle of red he’d picked up on the way over. The galley kitchen was spotless. A wine rack beside the fridge badly needed restocking and there was a National Trust calendar on the wall above a bowl of fruit. April featured a drift of purple crocuses at Lacock Abbey.