The truth, p.5
The Truth, page 5
When Charlie had told his story, Jason Diver said, ‘First then, Mr Hills, I’m not a lawyer but unless the police believe your son organised the shipment, they’re not going to keep him in custody for long. They don’t have the facilities or the manpower, and the courts are under a lot of pressure not to remand in custody because the prison service is in a state of perpetual crisis. I’m sure I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, of course.’
Charlie said, ‘Of course he didn’t organise it. The idea’s ridiculous.’
Diver said, ‘Second – how exactly do you think we could help?’
The question seemed to stump Charlie – it was the “exactly”. He had only talked this through with Smith in a superficial way. His instincts had been to get help, get all the help you can. But help to do what “exactly”?
Smith said, ‘The boat is a proper one. It’s a big, expensive yacht. I imagine a thing like that leaves some sort of paper trail as well as a wake. It would be useful to know where it had been before it arrived in Lake.’
Diver didn’t disagree and he tapped in a few more words. It occurred to Smith that the online participant might be seeing both screens – they could do all sorts of clever things like that now, couldn’t they? Smith said then, ‘And Anthony only had a minority share in the boat, since… When was it, Charlie?’
‘Late last year. This was the first time he’d ever been out on it.’
Smith continued, ‘So you could find out about the other shareholders. We know Anthony met them through the car business, so there’s a lead straight away.’
Jason Diver noted that too, and said as he was typing, ‘Both lines of investigation which the police will already be following. As I’m sure you realise.’
This was to Smith. Whether by design or not, the younger Diver had gone to the heart of the matter. Smith said, ‘Well, you’d certainly hope so. But from their point of view, they’re seeking evidence to convict. There’s always the danger that you tend to see what you’re looking for rather than everything that’s there. And another point is, whatever they find probably won’t be disclosed to any defence case for months. Mr Hills would rather not wait that long.’
Diver said, ‘It’s a principle of the Association of British Investigators that our work should complement that of the police, rather than compete with it.’
Smith said, ‘Very worthy of them. How does that shape up in practice? When you’re engaged in criminal defence work?’
Diver acknowledged the question but did not answer it. Instead he was looking at his laptop again. Smith thought, is he reading something or waiting for something? And then it occurred to him that whoever was on the other end might be listening to all this as well – that was something else they could do, wasn’t it?
Diver nodded as if Smith had asked the question aloud and said, ‘Have you ever used Zoom?’
Smith said, ‘No, thank you. I find a single malt in the evening quite sufficient for my needs.’
In the reflection on the window, a face had appeared on the screen. Diver pressed keys and said, ‘I have someone who would like a word, Mr Smith. I’m sure you remember my sister.’
He turned the laptop one hundred and eighty degrees, and there she was. Smith remembered the last thing he’d said about her to Charlie. Mad as a box of frogs…
Chapter Six
The 17.44 was on time but it was crowded – a commuter train for people who lived in Kings Lake and the nearby villages. It was still a wonder to Smith that they found it worth their while to spend between three and four hours a day travelling to and from a job in London; on the other hand, he had spent nearly a year with the Met early in his career, and had been able to afford only a dingy bedsit in a very dodgy borough. Given the choice, he might have opted for the train ride.
The stream of passengers flowed from the ancient, narrow entrance to the station, and fanned out across the car park. It began to thin and still he hadn’t seen her. He had a niggling worry that she might have missed the train, but beyond that was another worry, an irrational one – she might have decided to stay over another night in the city. Jo seemed to know people everywhere and new acquaintances still turned up regularly in their conversations. She would have let him know, of course – or rather, she always had so far. But one of these days… Because he knew that further beyond the second worry was a third, the real one. Jo had given up a great deal to come to Norfolk. Not just the huge house in Cockfosters, but an entire social network. She liked the theatre, concerts, galleries, bookstores and cafes, all of which were pretty thin on the ground in Marston. Buying Drift’s End had been exciting, even romantic in a funny sort of way, but excitement and romance flower briefly and fade. After them, beyond them, you need something with deeper roots, something less showy that will last through the winter. When he was recovering, he could not have had a better nurse but that was over a while ago. He had willingly taken on the role of house-husband, as he had with Sheila when she became ill, but that had an all-too-inevitable conclusion; looking after Drift’s End, doing the shopping and chauffeur duty to the station and back did not.
This was a difficult matter and one Smith had been wondering how to broach with her for quite a while. This afternoon’s events might be forcing the question to some sort of crisis, but if Jo wasn’t here…
She appeared in the doorway, speaking to a fellow-traveller, a woman. They said a final word and then she was on her way, smiling, putting up her free hand and waving. The feeling of relief was palpable, and he returned her wave. This was another complication in the whole situation he said to himself, as he turned the key in the ignition. She really mattered to him now.
Choosing the right moment could be critical. If he waited until later in the evening, she would wonder why he hadn’t mentioned it earlier; launching into the story immediately might seem as if he was excited. Smith decided that telling her what had happened while driving back to Marston would be best – that way he could keep some of his attention on the road ahead and avoid any overly-searching gazes. When they were out of the queue to leave the station carpark, he said, ‘Charlie Hills came to see me today. Perhaps you don’t remember him. He was station sergeant at Central for donkeys’ years. He came to the cottage last summer to bring me a bunch of grapes.’
A casual enough opening, he thought; an old friend happened to turn up, who happened to have a bit of a problem.
Jo said, ‘I do remember him. He’s the one you used to call Mr Plod.’
Smith winced a little before he said, ‘Yes, that’s him. A good sort, Charlie. Old school.’
She didn’t carry on as he had hoped, and so Smith said, ‘Yes, a good mate. He helped me out of a few tight spots over the years.’
Jo said, ‘It’s nice so many of them still like to keep in touch.’
‘Yes,’ he said, and then the conversation died again, as if the battery had gone flat overnight. This almost never happened between the two of them.
Smith tried again with, ‘Anyway, Charlie had some bad news. His lad’s in a spot of bother. Well, more than a spot. He, Anthony, got himself arrested on a serious drugs charge yesterday morning.’
Jo had turned to look at him now but the traffic in Lake was heavy and he had to keep his attention on the road. She said, ‘How serious?’
‘Well, he’d been on a yacht over the weekend and it turns out most of the ballast consisted of bags of cocaine. Regional Serious Crimes say it’s worth half a million on the street.’
She was quiet for a moment, thinking professionally. ‘He was just on the boat?’
Smith answered, ‘No. He bought a part share in it last year.’
‘Oh dear. And Regional are involved. As you say, more than a spot of bother.’
Smith said, ‘It was Revenue and Customs as well. So you have to wonder exactly where this boat had been.’
He was encouraged – Jo was showing an appropriate amount of interest and concern now. She said, ‘So this was the reason for Charlie’s visit? He wanted your advice?’
‘Yes, he did.’
After a tiny pause, she said, ‘It’s good that he felt he could reach out to you.’
Reach out to you? Jo knew how he felt about all that jargon. This might be deliberate, a distraction, designed to tease him. He decided to ignore it and press on.
‘He wanted to know what I thought about getting some private investigation done.’
Her phone must have vibrated – she took it out and looked at an email briefly, before she said, ‘Presumably he wasn’t asking you to do some private investigating.’
‘Well, no. But the solicitors he’s appointed for his son gave him the names of the firms they use. The solicitors said it was early days, which it is, but Charlie wanted to talk to them. And he asked me to go along for some moral support and a bit of advice. That sort of thing.’
Jo said, ‘And that’s where you’ve been this afternoon.’
He missed it then in his desire to keep the momentum going, but later, reviewing the conversation, he would realise he should have spotted it. He said, ‘Yes. It so happened I knew the people he was going to see.’
‘It’s a small world…’
He had to glance at her then – that was one of his own sayings. But having got this far, he couldn’t go back. ‘It was that brother and sister I must have mentioned – Diver and Diver. And their associates, whoever they might be.’
Jo said, ‘Smaller and smaller. She offered you a job once, didn’t she?’
So obvious when he came to look back on this. Smith said, ‘Yes. Anyway, Charlie told them the story. Jason Diver said he’d speak to the solicitors, and then his sister came online and we did a Zoom meeting.’
Jo had laughed though not unkindly, and said, ‘You did what? Zoom? You could have got me involved as well! I’d have paid good money!’
Smith pulled onto the coast road. He was more than halfway through this now and to return would be more tedious than going on to the other side. He said, ‘Yes, very droll. The long and the short of it is, it’s the sort of job they’d like to take on, a side of the business they want to develop. But they can’t get the people they need. They’ve taken on six in the past few months and only one has stuck around. She has a full caseload.’
Jo said, ‘So they can’t help Charlie? That’s a shame.’
It was the moment in a game of chess when you must decide whether the exchange of queens is worth it. Who will have the advantage if you do? But Smith took a little too long, and it was Jo who said, ‘I’m surprised she didn’t offer you the job again. A self-employed arrangement, that sort of thing. Just as a one-off to get your old friend out of a tight spot.’
He looked at her again. She pushed back the passenger seat and reached behind into the rear of the car. When her hand came back, it was holding the leaflet and the book Jason Diver had given him: “ABI The Association of British Investigators, Upholding Professional Values”, and “A Practical Guide To Private Investigation”.
Jo began to flick through them as she said, ‘I wondered what these were doing on the back seat.’
It was easy to forget sometimes that she wasn’t the only one living with a former detective.
They talked it over through the meal and then as they walked Layla along the bank. The sea was far out, the lowest spring tide of the year so far, and the saltmarshes rang with the calls of curlews and redshanks. As the sun sank in the western sky, the new blooms on the sea lavender began to colour the marshes in soft shades of purple and mauve.
Smith raised questions about his own readiness to carry out any sort of investigation – he had done nothing like it in almost eighteen months – and Jo dealt reassuringly enough with those. For some reason she brought up cycling and said it wasn’t as if he was going from sitting in his armchair to competing in the Tour de France – investigation was about a state of mind, and although he probably wasn’t as sharp as he once was, he should have enough left to be able to ride around the block and write a short report for his new boss, Katherine Diver. She had her arm linked through his as they walked, and gave it a friendly squeeze.
By now, of course, he knew what he could safely ignore, and said, ‘I’d be taking Charlie’s money. The agency fees plus the hourly rate and expenses could soon add up.’
Jo said in answer to that, ‘There probably isn’t anyone he’d rather give it to under the circumstances. And if you felt badly enough about it, you could just give it all back to him at the end.’
Smith said, ‘And what about Layla? She’s used to me being at home all day.’
‘But she’s very good when we do go out and leave her. I’ll be working from home for the next couple of weeks anyway. If the worst comes to the worst, we can take her down the road to Alice. She’s always trying to steal her, and Layla would have other dogs for company. We were saying only last week she could do with some of that.’
The serious questions and objections he’d anticipated had not materialised, and Smith had realised why. She hadn’t failed to spot the feeling of restlessness that had taken hold in him over the past few months, despite his best efforts to conceal it.
He said, ‘What about the car? If I have to go off somewhere, you’re going to be stuck down here.’
Jo said, ‘There are worse places to be left on your own all day. If it comes to it, I could get a bike.’
It was Smith’s turn to squeeze her arm and pull her off balance a little, so that she had to hold onto him. She said, ‘If we need another car, we’ll get one. You could add it to Charlie’s expenses. And anyway, this is just a one-off to help out your old friend. It’s not as if you’re planning to do this on a regular basis, is it?’
He stopped and turned towards her. She leaned a little closer, looked right into him and said in a half-whisper, ‘Is it?’
Layla’s bark carried far across the marshes. It was something she did whenever they kissed.
At a quarter past seven, Smith had received a phone call from Charlie, telling him Anthony had been released without charge and without police bail. This sounded promising but as former officers themselves, they all knew what had really taken place that evening. As Jo said when Charlie had gone, ‘Your old station is no different to any other. They don’t like the 2017 Act. By avoiding bail, they avoid keeping suspects and representation informed of progress in the case. He’s been released under investigation. When there is more evidence, he’ll be rearrested.’ Smith hadn’t disagreed, and he remarked only that Jason Diver seemed to have some idea what he was talking about, which was something.
Later she found him sitting in the room where he listened to music. It was almost dark outside but he had not turned on any lights; he was wearing the noise-cancelling headphones but there was no music playing – it must have come to an end and he hadn’t realised because he was too pre-occupied. Jo lifted the headphones away and said, ‘Still processing? What’s the current question?’
Then she sat next to him and Smith said, ‘I think it’s the last one for now, but it’s an awkward one. It’s not something I ever had to deal with in the job. Quite the opposite.’
‘Go on.’
He said, ‘What if I come to the conclusion that he was involved? If I find things that suggest Anthony Hills knew what was on the boat?’
When Jo didn’t answer, he continued, ‘This must happen in private investigation but I’d never thought about it. As a defence lawyer there are all sorts of tricks you play to avoid looking into the mirror, we know that, but as a PI? If you dig something up that’s the opposite of what you’re being paid to find out, what do you do? Bury it again and hope nobody noticed?’
Eventually she said, ‘That’s a rock and a hard place – I’d not considered it either.’ She paused and stared out of the same window as Smith. There was a star bright and low in the south-east but it wasn’t a star at all – Jupiter, king of the sky, the circling eagle, lord of thunderbolts.
‘I don’t know whether you knowing the client personally makes it better or worse but I can’t see you burying evidence. You’d have to tell him – Charlie, I mean.’
Smith said, ‘And I would. I’d want someone to tell me. But I was thinking more generally. How often does that sort of situation come up in private investigations? It’s bad enough being a copper sometimes – I don’t want to spend my twilight years wandering around in moral mazes.’
She laughed and said, ‘Oh, poor you! Don’t look further ahead than this one thing. Do it to help Charlie. If it works out, fine – if it doesn’t, volunteer with the coastguard. Don’t overthink it.’
He said, ‘Pot and kettle…’
‘But the difference is, I think about things that have happened. You think about things that might happen. As the number of things that might happen is infinite, you’re inclined to spend a lot of time thinking. It’s what you do, I know. But I’ve also heard you say, stop doing and start being.’
Layla had appeared in the doorway, tail wagging, expecting to be fed.
Smith said, ‘It sounds like my advice just became your advice,’ and Jo said, ‘And all the better for it. Feed Layla. I’ll make you a sandwich.’
Thirty-two minutes after midnight. Jo was sleeping next to him, breathing quietly and evenly. The bedroom window was open, as it almost always was, and he could hear the distant trilling of a solitary curlew, rising in pitch before falling silent for a few seconds, and then beginning again. He had had about an hour’s sleep but something had woken him.
Smith got out of the bed, knowing the old floorboards would creak in the doorway, even though he tried to step over them. The third bedroom, at the back of the cottage, and now his study, overlooked the marshes east of Marston, and before he turned on the desk lamp, he sat in the chair and looked out into the night. He could see no moon but there was enough of a ghostly bluish light to make out the dark mass of the shingle ridge that separated the marshes from the open sea. Sometimes it still caught him unawares – the surprise that he was living here, that Drift’s End belonged to them. Would it have done so if he hadn’t been stabbed that Christmas Eve? How often do nightmares turn into dreams?
