The truth, p.6
The Truth, page 6
And sometimes he could feel the scars pulling on his back and deeper inside. A change in the weather, that’s what people used to say, when your old injuries begin to ache again. He switched on the lamp then, and reached for the last notebook in the run of Alwyches; they had arrived here in a cardboard box, still in their original sequence, and when the new shelves were in place, they had been lifted out and carefully lined up, the record of most of a life’s work. Except for the last one, which was incomplete. He had in it notes relating to the search for Zoe Johnson, the notes about the man in the burger van, the notes he made after the interview with Andretti at Long Moor high security prison. But the last entry had been made on the 23rd of December, the day before Harris had tried to murder him, and had almost succeeded.
Consciously, he could say to himself that the unfinished page hadn’t meant much to him since – he’d had enough other things to worry about and then to look forward to, surely. But now, at almost one o’clock in the morning and almost eighteen months later, it had woken him and got him out of his bed. He pressed the notebook flat with his left hand and counted the number of empty pages remaining. Eleven. He could remember now thinking at the time that that would be enough to close his last case, that he wouldn’t need to open a new Alwych and then waste most of it.
But to write it all down would require more than those eleven pages. All the details of how the case against Harris had been constructed and presented by Alison Reeve; the long and harrowing interviews that Serena and Alison had conducted with Zoe Johnson – who had never given evidence in person at the trial, meaning that Smith’s final image of her would forever be the girl bound and gagged in the corner of the empty office building, watching in terror as he fought with Harris for her life. And then the trial itself, Smith giving evidence, only half-recovered then but refusing to record it because sending down Harris was, he knew in his private heart, sending down Andretti once more for the girls whose bodies Smith had seen one after another in the dunes. Unforgivable, the corruption of those most beautiful places with the most heinous of crimes. Smith would have got out of a hundred sick beds to send him down again for that.
Eleven pages were not enough and so, in the end, after removing the top of the Waterman’s – the ink in the nib was a little dry at first – he wrote now only “Convicted: attempted murder, aggravated child abduction. Concurrent sentences. Twenty-two years. Minimum to serve, sixteen years.”
Now there were ten pages – enough to find out whether Anthony Hills was telling the truth? Perhaps. But it wouldn’t be appropriate, not in here. What he was contemplating would be more than a new chapter, wouldn’t it? A whole new book, at the very least.
He pushed the Alwych back into its allotted space and then ran a forefinger along to the other end. There were six unopened ones, all still in their cellophane wrappers, and he eased out the next in line. Each notebook has eighty leaves and therefore one hundred and sixty pages. Each page has twenty feint cross lines – that’s three thousand, two hundred lines to be covered, if you don’t waste a single one.
Smith turned over the notebook. On the back there is a pressed seal near the top. You lift it and the perfectly new book with its black, all-weather cover and gold writing slides out into your hand. He hesitated for a moment, took his eyes away from it and back to the window. But there was only a square of blackness; the electric light made the marshes invisible to him, and there was no escape that way.
Opening this seal would mean something. It would become significant, though, of course, he could not be sure how. She had said, we shouldn’t worry about things that have not happened – enough things have already happened that need worrying about. Even so, what have we been given this grey matter for if it isn’t to…
When he looked down, the seal had been broken. He slipped off the cellophane cover, crumpled it and dropped it into the waste paper bin. In the silence after midnight, it seemed to make a lot of noise.
Chapter Seven
At Katherine Diver’s suggestion, Smith took no further action until the formalities were completed. He had imagined this taking a least a week but on the Friday morning, just three days after his first visit, he was back in the offices of Diver and Diver. Madison greeted him a little differently this time, and instead of being sent to the waiting room, he stood by the window in reception, looking down at the private rear access to the building. Jason was, as seemed usual, finishing a phone call.
The girl said, ‘We have a staff kitchen, Mr Smith. It’s down the stairs to the left, which is a nuisance, but it’s well-equipped. I can fetch you a tea or a coffee, or you can make your own if you prefer.’
Clearly Maddy had been brought up to speed. Over the previous two days, Smith had pretty much decided he would do this as a favour to Charlie Hills, and that would be the end of it; on the other hand, he couldn’t have this young woman addressing him as Mr Smith every time he walked through the door. He said, ‘David. Are you Maddy or Madison, by the way?’
She stopped typing and looked up at him.
‘Oh. Thank you for asking. Either or, I don’t mind. You could save Madison for when you’re annoyed with me, like my mum. And sometimes I’m just Mad…’
‘Aren’t we all?’
She smiled and went back to her screen. Smith looked down at the alleyway again. Just the one motor, a dark blue Lexus. He could not see the model but it was a two-door coupe. Not the sort of car he ever studied – and if questioned thoroughly enough, he would have admitted to still missing a certain ageing Peugeot – but he must be looking at sixty or seventy thousand pounds’ worth of high-speed luxury. Just how much money were these people making? Leasing is all the rage these days, he knew, but see the number plate? 1990 JD. The last time Smith had read that it was attached to a black Saab convertible parked in the very same spot. Can you put personalised plates on a leased car? He doubted it.
And presumably the number plate was telling him the owner of the Lexus was thirty years old, which is a little over half my age, thought Smith. At thirty I’d just made detective sergeant and was wondering whether I could afford a mortgage. This all felt rather peculiar, and the fear came again that he had made a mistake in agreeing to this. Charlie, if it had been anyone else…
The adjacent office was quiet now but there was no sign of Jason. Smith said to the girl, ‘I believe you have someone else who’s based here in Lake?’
She said, ‘Yes, Polly. She’s been with the agency for a few months.’
Smith nodded – somehow that seemed quite an achievement – and said, ‘What’s she working on at the moment?’
Madison looked straight at him with a charming smile and said, ‘I’m not allowed to say.’ She seemed very composed for barely twenty-something.
‘Quite right, too.’
But now his interest had been piqued. He had made the lazy assumption that private detectives would be male and mostly retired or failed coppers – “Polly” might tick some of those boxes but not all, and she might tick none. The chances were that he would never meet her, though, in the short time he expected to be here; this could never be like being a member of a squad. There wouldn’t be team briefings, there wouldn’t be a partner or a rookie to train, there wouldn’t be the camaraderie that gets you through the bad places. There might not even be any bad places.
Madison was saying, ‘You can go through now.’
If there had been a signal, Smith had missed it. Jason half stood up when Smith entered as if greeting a client and then he sat down again and waved towards the chair in front of his desk. He said, ‘We’re informal here. I’m just Jason.’
‘David.’
‘Good. I heard you chatting to Maddy. She’s much more than our receptionist, as you will soon discover, I hope.’ Then Diver raised his voice a little and said, ‘The lynchpin of the whole operation!’
A voice came back, saying, ‘Thank you, Mr Diver!’
‘OK, then. David. We have everything you need, in record time. This is the ID you should carry when representing Diver and Diver Associates. We ask that you have it with you at all times.’
A smart-looking card was passed across the desk – a substantial piece of laminated plastic. It was a light Cambridge blue, with elegant black print, including Smith’s name, and the DDA company logo – the capitals linked together in a very designerly way. In the top right corner was a head and shoulders photograph of Smith, and he did not hide his surprise as he said, ‘When did you take this?’
Diver said, ‘There’s a camera that records all our visitors as they reach the top of the stairs.’
Smith took another look at the image and said, ‘That’s legal, is it?’
The co-director of DDA perhaps was a little surprised they hadn’t got further than handing over an ID card before there was a question like that one. He said, ‘On one’s own private property, yes. As a matter of fact, it’s not illegal in most public places either. Did you know English law has no definition of a public space? That’s something you should bear in mind if you need to take photos yourself.’
The thought hadn’t occurred to Smith, and he was aware it was probably only the first of many. He examined the card more thoroughly, back and front. ‘So you could have anyone’s face put on one of these, without their consent?’
Diver sat back in his swivel chair.
‘Yes and no. Technically, processing the image can come under the Data Protection Act – again, the law is hazy because one also has to establish purpose in relation to process. Our cards are produced in conjunction with the company accredited by the Association of British Investigators. True, I took and processed the image before handing it to them – in a digital sense, just to be clear. But I didn’t anticipate being questioned about it. Especially by the person on whose behalf I was doing it…’
Smith completed his examination of the card and placed it on the desk in front of him with a little snap of the corner. He said, ‘Yes. Life’s full of surprises, isn’t it? It’s a very nice card. Thank you.’
Jason Diver said, ‘No problem,’ but he seemed slightly more hesitant when he added, ‘The card also has smart capabilities.’
Smith studied it again. ‘Really? You’d never know just by looking at it.’
Diver was staring at him when the landline on the desk began to ring. After just two bursts, they heard Madison pick the call up in reception. Diver said, ‘So, for example, you can exchange contact details with someone just by tapping the card on their mobile phone. It works seamlessly with android, but iPhones need the app. Which is free.’
‘Oh. Good.’
‘Yes… What sort of mobile do you have, David? As a matter of interest.’
‘A black one. It cost an arm and a leg.’
Smith took out the phone and held it up for inspection. Diver said, ‘An iPhone 8. That should see you through. I-’
‘It has the map thing, which could be useful. I just press the symbol if I don’t know where I am, and it tells me, even out in the countryside. It’s amazingly detailed. I don’t know how they do it.’
Diver was definitely taking his time now.
‘I was about to say I haven’t activated the smart capabilities in your card yet. It isn’t essential, and-’
‘And if I need to exchange contact details, I can just give them my number. The old-fashioned way.’
‘Yes… But we do ask that you make good use of the card. Carry it at all times and show it before you ask questions. That gives you comprehensive insurance cover and establishes your legal position. Are you aware of how the private investigations industry is regulated? It’s in the booklet I gave you earlier in the week…’
Smith was struck by the similarities between the way Jason Diver didn’t finish all his sentences and some of the conversations he used to have with a certain detective chief superintendent in Kings Lake Central. Perhaps it was a trait shared by some of the people who make it to positions of authority.
He said, ‘Yes, I read that. It isn’t regulated at all.’
Diver said, ‘True, there isn’t a legal framework. But the ABI provides a clear system of self-regulation which we as a company have bought into, from the beginning. We carry out all our work using its guidelines. As it happens, I’m the area representative and Katherine is a member of the national policy committee.’
Smith did his best to look impressed. Then he picked up the card again and said, ‘Right. I expect that’s how I got one of these so quickly. It would usually take longer than a couple of days, wouldn’t it?’
Jason Diver reached for some papers from the little stack on his desk and said, ‘As you are going to be self-employed for the first time, I’ve prepared these. They explain what records you need to keep, how to claim expenses, and all that sort of thing. We have our own accountant if you decide you need one.’
Smith took them and leafed through – he could explain now that he had no intention of taking Charlie Hills’ money but it was simpler to go along with what he was being told. At the end, Diver said, ‘If this is all clear and to your satisfaction, I’ll need some signatures. I’ve marked where they need to go.’
The final documents were handed across for Smith to read, and he did so. Everything becomes more significant when you sign your name, but he was not committing himself beyond agreeing to follow the procedures outlined in the non-statutory guidance, and he had spent the last two days thinking this through from every conceivable angle.
When he handed them back, Diver separated out the copies and gave one of each to Smith. He said, ‘Good. I think that completes your starter pack. At this point I would usually talk through some basics and set up some training. But that would seem to be redundant…’
Maddy took another call in the outer office. It was the fourth since Smith had taken his seat in front of Diver.
‘So, David, can we say that for the first few days, you’ll give me an update of how it’s going? Just a phone call?’
Smith nodded. It was in a realm far beyond bizarre that he was being asked to report in to the young man whose backside he had metaphorically spanked just a few years ago but life has many twists and turns if you live it long enough – this just happened to be one of the stranger ones.
Jason said, ‘As to keeping the client updated, they vary. Some like the same, a daily update, others are happy with an email once a week.’
A thought struck him, and he said, ‘You have email, don’t you?’
Smith said, ‘Yes. I took some evening classes.’
Diver smiled uncertainly and Smith took that as a good sign – he hadn’t completely lost his touch.
Diver said, ‘As to the particular case – any thoughts? Have you been in touch with the Hills family since we last met them?’
Smith picked up the small bundle of papers and knocked their edges together on the desk. Then he took out his wallet and put the ID card into it. He said as he did this, ‘No, just one brief call. I thought it was best to let them get over the shock, let the dust settle. Now the formalities are out of the way, I’ll have a chat with Anthony.’
‘Good. When will you do that?’
Smith looked at his watch and said, ‘In about half an hour, I expect.’
‘Oh. No time like the present.’
Smith didn’t answer directly. He looked around the office and then back at Jason Diver.
‘I never thought you’d make it. The two of you proved me wrong.’
Diver said, ‘Thanks. I consider that quite an achievement in itself.’
Smith acknowledged that, before, ‘And what is it the two of you do, exactly? It’s not what I’m going to be doing, I know that. You didn’t get that motor by knocking on doors for criminal defence lawyers.’
Diver didn’t seem to be offended by the reference to his Lexus, not at all.
‘It’s a fair question now you’ve joined the team. You’re right, obviously. I handle online investigations, mostly into breaches of company security. Data is the new gold, the new oil, and people are constantly trying to steal it. One can buy software packages to prevent it but they fail all the time. Sooner or later, companies panic. They want an expert, someone they can hand it over to and say “Fix it!” I have a team of trusted associates who you will almost certainly never meet, as all that work is virtual. My best two people currently are in New Zealand.’
Smith said, ‘And what about your sister? I vaguely remember someone telling me she was dealing with Americans.’ It wasn’t that vague. Waters had told him, and Smith was wondering whether the Divers’ friendship with his former detective constable, now Detective Sergeant Waters at Kings Lake Central, would be mentioned at some point – especially as Smith was about to begin playing for the other side.
Diver said, ‘That’s correct. Katherine met someone at a party just after we started. She bluffed them into letting us vet some candidates they were appointing to posts in the UK. The following Monday morning we sat in here wondering how to do it. It’s grown from there. She travels a lot but says she intends to catch up with you in person next week.’
Smith said, ‘Right. Well, tell her as long as she behaves, I won’t arrest her anymore.’
Jason Diver smiled and said, ‘She still dines out on that story.’ And then, ‘We’ve been trying for a while to get this local thing going. It’s partly sentimental – you knew Bernie, our uncle, didn’t you?’
Smith nodded.
‘But also, every week we get inquiries, and we turn them away. We’d like to see if it could work.’
And Smith thought, dear me, this isn’t the best time to tell you I’m a very temporary appointment, and that you’re heading for a disappointment. Never mind.
Diver said, ‘Can I ask you a question, about the job?’
Smith said, ‘Absolutely.’ He’d heard this a lot recently; it was all the rage.
‘Do you plan things?’
