The Headhunters (14 page)

‘He’s local, then.’

‘He still drove away in Fiona’s Picasso. Where to?’

Francisco scratched his cropped head. ‘You’ve got me there.’

‘Not to worry,’ Hen said with a smile that took Francisco by surprise. ‘Our problem, not yours. That’s where a homing device comes in useful.’

‘A what?’

‘A bug. You’d know all about them, being in security.’

‘The car was bugged?’

‘Apparently. You can get them on the internet, dinky little things you put out of sight under the dash or in the boot. Fiona must have been proud of that car.’

‘How do you know she bugged it?’

‘The leaflet is in the files under S for security. The pinpoint tracker. The signals are bounced off a satellite, I gather, and we can access them on her computer. Unfortunately, as Gary will tell you, there’s a firewall device on the computer so we have to wait for a whizz-kid to help us.’

‘So you don’t know where the car is?’

‘Tomorrow we will. Maybe later tonight. And of course when we find it we can test for traces of DNA. You can’t drive a car without leaving some. Thanks for coming in, Francisco. If we need you again we know where to find you.’

‘Right, yes.’ He didn’t sound enthusiastic. His thoughts were elsewhere.

‘Gary will see you out.’

After the door was closed and Gary returned, he said, ‘Is that true about the bug?’

‘Francisco thinks it is.’

‘You made it up?’

She nodded. ‘Let’s see what he does next.’

twelve

THE CRUSH IN THE Slug and Lettuce was getting too much, so they decided to look for a meal elsewhere. Jo asked Jake if he was vegetarian. He gave his slow smile and said, ‘No. Does that surprise you?’

‘I was thinking with you being so keen on, em . . . ’

‘Hugging trees?’

‘I wasn’t going to say that.’

‘I know.’

‘What I meant is that you respect living creatures.’

Jake nodded. ‘But vegetables have a life, too.’

She wasn’t certain if he was serious. The smile had gone.

They went for a Chinese meal in the Hornet and ordered mainly rice and vegetable dishes with some chicken. Using chopsticks, he helped her to some of each, saying this was the custom.

‘Have you been to China, then?’

He shook his head. ‘I had a Chinese cellmate.’

After some talk about their surroundings, Jo said, ‘I’m glad the others didn’t want us to spend all evening with them.’

‘Me, too.’

‘It’s not that I dislike them. Just that in company Rick is . . . I don’t know what the word is.’

‘A gadfly?’

‘You’ve got it. Makes me feel uncomfortable. What was that business about Gemma’s boss, when she said he was history now and Rick said he was tomorrow’s news, or something like that, and they laughed and went all secretive?’

‘Rick went secretive,’ Jake said. ‘Gemma wanted to let us in on it.’

She recalled the moment now and Jake’s memory was spot on. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Rick closed her down, as if you and I couldn’t be trusted. It went from joking to deadly serious. What did he mean by “tomorrow’s news”? They know something we don’t. I’m sure of that.’

‘Sounds as if they expect he’ll be found dead.’

‘That’s what I took it to mean.’ She thought about what she was agreeing with and changed it. ‘No, it was stronger than that, as if they
know
he’s dead.’

‘Maybe they do.’

Surprised, she asked, ‘How do you mean?’

‘The police could have told them to say nothing.’

‘Why would they do that?’

‘The next of kin are told first.’

‘That’s what it was about, then.’ But in truth she doubted if the police had anything to do with it.

HEN’S CAR was across the street from the Mill Pond, parked in Bridge Road. She and Gary sat waiting in the dark, passing the time listening to a local radio phone-in about policing and how it had changed, mostly for the worse.

Once Hen muttered, ‘Give me strength.’

Another time: ‘Who
are
these people?’

Finally, after a sharp, impatient breath. ‘Any minute now one of them is going to say when he was a boy he was caught nicking apples and the local bobby clipped him round the head and it did him no harm and he’s been a model citizen ever since.’

The caller wasn’t the next, but the one after. The clip round the head was for letting off a firework in a bus, but the effect was just as long-lasting, about seventy years of blameless living.

Gary stared at Hen wide-eyed, as if she’d picked the Grand National winner. ‘How did you know that was coming, guv?’

‘It’s a gift, Gary.’

‘Really?’

‘You could pick it up. Listen to enough old coots like that and you’ll be as good as I am.’ She switched to another station.

Tedious as the wait was, they remained on watch. Their position was ideal. There was only one route away from Fiona’s house. Every vehicle had to come towards them and make a turn. They were perfectly placed to follow.

‘You tell them good, guv,’ Gary said.

‘What are you on about now?’

‘Porkies. The bug in the car. I believed every word.’

‘Good. Let’s hope Francisco did.’

‘“S for Security” was a brilliant touch.’

‘If I’m right,’ Hen said, ‘he’s been into the house and seen inside that filing cabinet. He’ll have nicked the registration document from there, so, yes, it ought to worry him.’

‘D’you think he killed her, guv?’

‘One step at a time, Gary.’

‘Step one: he leads us to the car.’

‘He could lead us to some nightclub where he’s on the door.’

‘Christ, I hope not.’

Forty minutes had gone by since they’d driven away from the house and parked here. No way could Francisco have eluded them. Hen thought it possible that up to an hour would pass before he made his move. Even if he was not wholly convinced by her story about the homing device in Fiona’s car, it would prey on his mind.

‘Do we know what he drives?’ Gary asked.

‘You saw the cars along there.’

‘There were only two anywhere near the house, both of them old heaps really, a yellow 2CV Dolly and a beaten-up green Land Rover.’

‘Somehow the Dolly doesn’t sound right for a nightclub bouncer.’

A few spots of rain appeared on Hen’s windscreen and when she used the wipers the whole thing smeared. She found a cloth and asked Gary to clean up. He was outside and wiping when some headlights approached from the Mill Pond.

‘Get back in.’

He wouldn’t be recognised in the dark, but they needed to move off sharply if necessary. He was quickly into his seat.

‘Can you see what it is?’

‘Looks like the Dolly.’

When it turned left they saw the driver. Unless Francisco had disguised himself in false boobs and a blonde wig, he still hadn’t made his move.

‘If he wanted to be sure of avoiding us,’ Gary said twenty minutes later, ‘he wouldn’t use the car at all. He could walk right round the promenade and come out the other side. He’d reach the High Street that way and we’d never know.’

‘And where would he go then?’

‘Don’t know, and we wouldn’t find out.’

‘Aren’t you a tonic to be with?’ She leaned forward. ‘We’re starting to mist up. Where’s that cloth?’ She cleaned the inside of the windscreen in time to see another set of headlights approaching. This looked more like the shape of a Land Rover. She started up and watched.

The vehicle waited for a gap in the traffic and swung right, in the Chichester direction. In the short time it was side on, two things became clear. This was a Land Rover and the driver had Francisco’s cropped head.

Gary said, ‘Go for it!’

Before Hen went for it she had to give way to two others, the second a rented van that blocked any view of the traffic ahead. Hers was a Honda Civic and she was quite attached it. She was also quite attached to her life. She edged to the middle to see if she might overtake. The lights of a steady stream of oncoming traffic showed ahead.

‘Don’t worry, boss,’ Gary said. ‘This way, he won’t know we’re following.’

‘All I’m following is this bloody great van.’

‘The road opens up later.’

They passed Southbourne and Nutbourne and still there was no break in the traffic. The road was dead straight, allowing no views of the cars ahead, no way of telling if Francisco was similarly hampered or had zoomed a long way ahead.

‘I went to a funeral last year and something like this happened,’ Gary said. ‘The thing was, the service was at the church and after that we were all supposed to follow the hearse to the crematorium. We came to some traffic lights and got left behind and had no idea where to go after that. About thirty of us ended up at some pub. Whoa!’

The van had braked unexpectedly. Hen managed to stop in time, not without leaving some rubber on the road. ‘What the hell is this about?’

‘You know the Beefeater along here on the left?’ Gary said. ‘I reckon someone is stopping there.’

‘You’re wrong,’ Hen said. ‘Someone is going right and I think it’s Francisco. What’s down there?’

‘Lanes mostly. Chidham, isn’t it?’

The van moved off.

‘That was a Land Rover for sure,’ Hen said. ‘I’m following.’ She flicked the direction light lever. More cars were approaching. All she could do was wait to make the turn.

‘No problem, boss,’ Gary said to keep up Hen’s spirits. ‘We don’t want to get too close to him.’

Men and cars, she thought. They get inside one and feel compelled to assert themselves. Even a rookie DC.

When the gap came and they got across, the lane seemed ominously quiet and looked deserted. ‘He definitely turned down here,’ Hen said. ‘Chidham, you said? I don’t know it.’

‘You wouldn’t unless you had a reason,’ Gary said. ‘We’re on a peninsula really, with the sea to right and left. It could be a clever place to keep a stolen car. There’s a church somewhere, and a pub called the Old House at Home.’

‘No prize for guessing why you came down here.’

‘It was lighter than this when I came. Not much to look at, though. A few houses and farm buildings.’

‘Like barns, you mean?’

‘I know what you’re thinking, guv. Not easy finding them in the dark.’

Hen avoided using full beam. Progress had to be cautious and the lanes got more narrow the further south they went. Some sharp bends slowed them even more. At each bend, she half expected to see the Land Rover’s tail-lights.

She didn’t.

After yet another bend she said, ‘I think we’re going north again.’

‘Probably are.’

They came to a fork. Hen was starting to lose heart. ‘Now what?’

‘My feeling is left,’ Gary said.

More bends, sharp, right-angled. ‘I can see lights,’ Hen said, her foot on the brake. The road had widened and a car was at the side, on the left.

It was a black Mercedes.

‘This is the pub I was telling you about,’ Gary said. ‘Do you want to check the cars?’

‘We’d better.’

They stopped behind the Mercedes and got out. The check didn’t take long. Nothing resembling a Land Rover was parked outside. Gary offered to speak to the landlord, but Hen wanted to get back in pursuit.

In a short time they saw the lights of cars crossing the way ahead. They were back to the A259, the main road they’d left.

‘Should have taken that right fork,’ Hen said. ‘Hold on, I’m going to reverse.’

She backed about fifty metres, found a gateway to turn in, and drove back past the parked cars outside the pub. The fork came up and she took the sharp left along a wider, more promising stretch of lane.

‘Are you watching both sides?’ she asked. ‘He could have taken it off the road and switched his lights off.’

‘I’ve only got one pair of eyes, guv.’

She clicked her tongue, but he was right. It was impossible to see everything. She was doing fifty and it felt like eighty. She switched to full beam. ‘That any better?’

‘A lot.’

‘But of course he’ll see us coming now.’

They came to a T-junction.

‘What now?’

‘We’re going round in circles,’ Gary said. ‘If you turn left you’ll be heading for the main road again.’

They turned right and recognised the series of bends they’d originally taken.

‘We’ve been right round,’ Hen said. ‘He’s beaten us, the tosser.’

AFTER THE Chinese meal Jake insisted on walking Jo home, the perfect gent. She was sure he didn’t expect to be invited in. Their friendship was progressing at an old-fashioned tempo. Wham-bam, thank you, ma’am wasn’t this man’s style. In a way, Jo approved, yet she was up for a relationship if and when he was.

They waited for a gap in the traffic at St Pancras and when the time came to cross, he took a light grip on her arm and guided her across. The contact encouraged her but he let go when they were on the other side. Fortunately he wasn’t sure which way to turn, so she tucked her hand under his arm and said, ‘It’s up here and to the left.’ She held on all the way up Alexandra Road to the house.

At the front gate, he signalled he was about to leave by saying it had been a nice evening.

Jo said, ‘You’ve time for a coffee, haven’t you?’

He took a step back and showed her his palms as if she was about to spring at him.

She stepped closer, took his arm again and steered him to the door. ‘Live dangerously.’

He gave an uncertain grin.

In the flat she offered wine, but he said black coffee was what he wanted. She said, ‘You don’t have to worry about missing the last bus. I can easily drive you home when you want to leave.’

He said, ‘That might be against my principles.’

‘What—leaving a lady at the end of an evening?’

He started to say, ‘I meant . . . ’ and then stopped, outwitted. Instead of saying his piece about private cars and exhaust fumes he shook his head and laughed.

That was the moment she knew he would spend the night with her.

AT FIRST light, Hen was directing a search of the Chidham peninsula. Every building capable of concealing a car south of the A259 was assigned to a group of officers. She was convinced Fiona’s Picasso was still there somewhere. Last night Francisco had known he was being tailed. He wouldn’t have risked moving it. He’d probably searched for the bug and found nothing, but that would only have added to his anxiety. He’d be afraid it was concealed somewhere he hadn’t detected.

The task wasn’t huge. The whole area amounted to about two square miles, and much of that was open ground. The populated part, containing the roads they’d driven along, was a section in the middle about half a mile across and a mile from north to south.

‘He may not have used a building,’ Gary pointed out. ‘He could have hidden it out of sight down some farm track.’

‘Do you think I haven’t thought of that?’ Hen said. She hadn’t fitted in much sleep. ‘We’ll check the buildings first and then scour the rest of the place.’

Searches are heavy on manpower. Officers have to be diverted from other duties, but a murder enquiry takes priority over most things. Hen had promised everyone it wouldn’t take long. In theory she was right, except that the consent of the owners had to be sought at each location, and nothing is quick when members of the public are involved. ‘If the ACC should ask what this is about,’ she told Stella, who was back at the ranch running things, ‘you’d better tell him we’re looking for a stolen Picasso. That should silence him.’

THE SAME morning, Jo stirred about six-thirty. In her drowsy state she became aware she wasn’t wearing the XXL T-shirt she always slept in. From there her brain reminded her why. He’d been a marvellous lover, discovering what turned her on, treating her gently when she wanted it, and bringing them both to amazing climaxes. She’d felt appreciated, a giver and sharer of passion better than anything she’d ever experienced before.