Betrayal (44 page)

‘So no one would have known?’

‘Not by looking at her, no. Why?’

I wasn’t terribly sure why I was asking. ‘Just wondered, that was all.’

David grunted, ‘She was definitely on heroin, was she?’

‘Yes.’ We both studied the view again. ‘Where would she have got her drugs from if it wasn’t from a dealer?’

David threw me a sharp quizzical look. ‘
Not
from a dealer? Well . . .’ He did a mental double-take. ‘You know it wasn’t a dealer?’

‘Apparently not.’

He went through the motions of thinking about this. ‘Well, it could have been legally, from a doctor. So long as she was a registered addict. But she wasn’t registered with me. Though . . .’ He frowned. ‘She could have been registered with another doctor, I suppose. When she signed on with me her notes were forwarded from some private doctor off Sloane Square, but she could easily have had a second doctor somewhere else. One she’d persuaded to give her a long-term repeat script. There are some doctors who specialise in signing up drug addicts to boost their lists, and then go and hand out scripts like confetti from a gravy train, with no intention of weaning them off anything.’

‘If she had prescriptions she must have used them locally then?’

David missed the question. ‘Otherwise another registered addict,’ he mused. But he didn’t sound convinced. ‘Someone who was willing to share their quota. I’ve got four or five addicts on my books, but they’re all on methadone.’ He gave a sardonic grunt. ‘I will persist in this crazy idea that they’ll get off drugs one day, you see. I go through the motions.’

‘A local chemist would notice a prescription for heroin then?’

‘For diamorphine – that’s the name – well, he
might
. Normally it’s only used for terminal cases – cancer. Largely dispensed through hospitals and homes.’ He cast me a sidelong glance. ‘You think this could be important?’

I gave a wide shrug. ‘Who knows? But yes. Yes, I do.’

‘You think . . .’ He wore the irritated expression that always overtook him when he was forced to voice something that might make him look foolish. ‘You think the drugs are something to do with her death?’

‘Well, it has to be as good as anything the police have come up with, doesn’t it?’

David eyed me thoughtfully, as if appreciating for the first time that I had not given up on the idea of Ginny’s innocence. He pushed out his lips and nodded sagely. ‘I’ll see what I can find out.’

The offer surprised me. ‘Would you?’

‘Sure. There aren’t that many chemists in the area. They’re always calling me up.’ He grunted disdainfully, ‘
Say
they can’t read my handwriting.’

‘Thanks, David.’ Then, as if I needed to justify myself further: ‘I feel I have to try.’

‘Of course.’ And I recognised the tone in his voice that signalled fast-waning interest.

The women reappeared at the far end of the garden. Ginny was hugging her arms to her stomach, looking cold.

‘This EGM,’ David said in a voice that was so remote and abrupt I could only wonder at his ability to switch mood. ‘Is it going to come off?’

‘Yes. You should have been notified. Next Friday.’

‘Isn’t it all a waste of time, Hugh? I mean, wouldn’t we do better to just take the money and run? Or rather,
keep
our money and run?’

‘We have very little to lose, David, and an awful lot to gain.’

‘
Do
we? You could have fooled me. It seems to me that Cumberland must know what they’re doing. They’ve made their decision and we should accept it.’

From across the flowerbeds Ginny caught my eye as she listened inattentively to something Mary was saying, and it was a plea for rescue.

‘They’ll close the factory, David. They’ll put a lot of people out of work. Isn’t that reason enough to give it a try?’

‘No.’ Warming to his indignation, he protested, ‘No, it damn well isn’t. That’s the way
bad
decisions are made.’

‘Look, it’s not long to wait now,’ I said appeasingly. ‘It’ll all be settled on Friday.’

He growled uncompromisingly, ‘Once a ship’s sinking . . .’

Mary and Ginny were moving towards us again.

I touched David’s arm. ‘One last thing – when did Sylvie join your list?’

‘
What?
’ He was thoroughly incensed now. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘I wanted to know when she arrived in Dittisham.’

‘Oh.’ He allowed himself to be slightly mollified. ‘March. Beginning of March.’

Ginny came up and fastened herself to my side.

‘You’re cold,’ I said and, taking off my jacket, put it round her shoulders.

‘Well, what do you think?’ I asked as we followed David and Mary back to the cars.

She whispered, ‘I don’t like it.’

‘Fine.’

‘And it’s
not
because Mary’s so crazy about it, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

‘No, no – I wasn’t. No, don’t worry about it. We’ll find somewhere else.’

‘It’s got something spooky about it,’ she shivered. ‘I feel as though someone died here.’

Suppressing faint alarm, I squeezed her hand. ‘In that case . . .’

She stopped suddenly and looked up at me, her eyes burning fiercely, and said for no apparent reason, ‘I do love you, you know. Sometimes I don’t know what I did to deserve you.’

I kissed her softly on the lips. ‘It’s me that’s the lucky one,’ I said.

I glanced up and saw Mary at the corner of the house, looking back at us. Instantly, she gave a broad smile and called, ‘David and I both know the way to the restaurant. Why don’t we split up in case we get separated?’ She put on a comically doubtful expression and laughed, ‘If that makes any sense!’

I turned to ask Ginny but she was already shrugging her agreement.

David led the way in his Mercedes, and as I fell in line behind I saw him turn his head to Ginny, asking her something, or replying.

‘Ginny didn’t like the house,’ said Mary, fixing her seat belt.

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘Oh well. Worth a try.’ She didn’t seem in the least perturbed. ‘How’s everything else going?’

‘Not a lot of progress at the moment.’

‘How’s the investigator doing – Mr
Pike
. I must say, it’s a rather unfortunate name. Aren’t pikes terrible predators, gobbling up everything in sight?’

‘No word yet. It’s only been a few days.’

‘So he hasn’t tracked down the dreaded Joe yet?’

I answered the question truthfully. ‘No.’

She cast me a sidelong glance. ‘Awfully glad you didn’t get involved, Hugh. It really wouldn’t have done, you know.’

‘I can see that.’

We drove on in silence for a time.

‘Tell me,’ I asked casually, ‘do you know the woman who worked in the pottery shop with Sylvie? Liz something? I tried to phone the place but it must have closed down. The number was discontinued anyway.’

‘Haven’t a clue! Don’t even know which shop it was! But
Hugh!
’ she exclaimed, attempting to moderate her disbelief and exasperation with a laugh. ‘Same warning applies, for God’s sake. Could be a prosecution witness!’ She sighed at me as if I was beyond redemption. ‘Why do you want to know anyway?’

‘I thought she might know who Sylvie’s lover was. The one before me.’

‘The
one?
’ she questioned drily. ‘I thought she never had less than a
bevy
on the go.’

‘There was one in particular.’

‘Well – who knows then? Any red-blooded male in the area, presumably.’

‘This one supplied her with drugs.’

Mary gave me an abrupt glance. ‘Oh really?
Really
. Well, there you are then. She was always on to the main chance, wasn’t she? Addicts are all the same. Dragging people down into their own little cesspool. Polluting everything in their path. They commit most crime nowadays – did you know that? Muggings and burglary. The new scum of the earth.’

I had nothing to say to that.

‘You think you’ll find this
lover?
’ Mary asked.

‘No idea.’

‘If you ask me you should try your Mr Pike. He’ll know all about that little world. He’ll know all about the rot at the bottom of the muckheap.’

T
INGWALL
’
S OFFICE
lights blazed in the darkened building. A hastily departing staff member let me in and I made my way down the passage and through the dimmed outer office to Tingwall’s door, which was open. Catching sight of me, Tingwall stood up in the act of swallowing a hot drink and promptly choked. Spluttering, he put his cup hastily down and waved a voiceless welcome.

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t make it earlier,’ I said. ‘A crisis at Hartford.’ It would have been truer to say, another crisis in a succession of emergencies. This time it had been a last-minute panic over the documentation for the EGM.

Still speechless, Tingwall clutched his throat and gestured me to my customary chair. I perched on the edge of my seat and, making no attempt to hide my restlessness, looked straight at the clock. Catching this, Tingwall gestured remorse for the delay and, coughing heartily, went to the side and poured himself a glass of water which he downed rapidly and refilled.

‘It’s just that Ginny will be waiting,’ I explained.

‘I wouldn’t have bothered you . . .’ Tingwall gasped. ‘If it hadn’t been . . . important.’ He drew up a chair and, clearing his throat, sat on the very edge of his seat, arms on knees, hands clasped, eyes grave. ‘Look, what I’m about to tell you – well, I think we
must
treat it with caution until everything is confirmed and clarified, until we can get a third opinion and be really sure of our ground,
but
– well, it’s possible we may have something on the forensic front.’

‘What sort of thing?’

He held up a hand as though to pre-empt some excessive reaction from me. ‘I really do think it would be a mistake to get too excited about this,’ he warned. Yet behind his calm veneer I realised it was Tingwall himself who was quietly excited. ‘It’s the fingerprint expert – chap called Armstrong—’

‘Our expert?’

‘Oh, yes –
our
man. He’s looked at the fingerprint that the police took from the boat and he’s found two things. First, that it’s a pretty poor print – a fragment from an index finger, and lifted off natural wood with a strong grain, which means the print is fairly broken up. Well, I’m not sure if that’s the correct technical term, but you can imagine – wood isn’t the smoothest of surfaces.
But
even more importantly, he’s found only fourteen points of similarity between this print and Ginny’s, which is two short of the number which is needed for a positive identification in an English court of law.’ He paused to let me absorb the full significance of this. ‘What it all boils down to, Hugh, is that in his opinion this print cannot be positively identified as Ginny’s. If he’s right – and he
is
a top man – then the implications are absolutely—’ Losing the word, he wheeled an impatient hand before settling on: ‘Crucial.’

Many different thoughts jostled in my mind as I heard myself ask, ‘But these points of similarity – fourteen, was it? Isn’t that rather a lot?’

‘Sixteen is the absolute minimum required in law for a positive ID,’ Tingwall repeated, weighing each word authoritatively as though he were in court.’ Armstrong explained it all to me – we’ll have to wait for his report, of course – but his conclusion was unequivocal, Hugh. He says that in his opinion it would be unsafe to say these prints were from the same person.’

At some point in the last few weeks I had lost the capacity for hope or joy, and, while part of me recognised the importance of this news, my emotions failed to respond. ‘Where do we go from here then?’

‘We get another expert. I’ve tracked down a chap called Benyon in London. Meant to be the best independent. He can get back to us in a few days, though he said it could be longer if it’s a complex job.’

‘And what happens if he doesn’t agree? What happens if he thinks the print is Ginny’s?’

Tingwall wasn’t ready to allow such negative thoughts. ‘Armstrong seems sure, Hugh. And a man of his experience doesn’t offer an opinion like that without very careful consideration.’

But part of me wanted to deflate his optimism, if only to protect myself from disappointment. ‘What about the police expert – why should he be wrong and our people right?’

‘Ah!’ Tingwall declared, flipping open one palm like a flashy magician about to produce his best trick. ‘We’re dealing in reasonable doubt, Hugh. If we manage to cast reasonable doubt on the reliability of the evidence, if we have two top experts saying that they think a match would be unsafe, then the police evidence will be fatally undermined. Reasonable doubt, Hugh. In a case of murder the judge will bend over backwards to make sure that reasonable doubt is understood and acted on by the jury.’

I said ironically, ‘But I’m not to get excited?’

Tingwall, whose excitement had become increasingly apparent, had the grace to smile. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you at this stage. I’m sorry if you would have preferred me not to. But Hugh, the thing is that if Armstrong is right, and Benyon agrees with him, it will alter our position significantly. The prosecution will be left with nothing but the eyewitness sighting, and eyewitness evidence is always the weakest part of any case. However impressive this eyewitness may be – and we know nothing about him yet – we’re back to reasonable doubt. It only needs one small inconsistency, one small hesitation, and a good defence counsel will expose the flaw and rip the evidence apart. Grainger has a reputation for that, you know – demolishing star witnesses.’

Instinct told me that it couldn’t be as simple as that. And by way of endorsement, a troubling thought hovered at the edge of my mind and swooped home. ‘She cleaned up the boat, Charles. They’ll still have that. Why would she want to clean up the boat? Or,’ I suggested heavily, ‘are we going back to the idea that she was covering up for me?’

‘The boat cleaning, that’s circumstantial. Not enough in itself, Hugh. And as for Ginny thinking you were the murderer, hopefully we won’t have to use that, and certainly not if the case never even gets to trial.’