24

Before they released Jonathan, Geraldine and Ian asked him for a list of his political associates. It was plausible that one of them had been more active, and perhaps considerably more dangerous, than a man who vented his feelings in words and egg throwing. Jonathan had gathered together a group of irate left-wing campaigners who traipsed around after him, grumbling about social injustice. David Armstrong appeared to have been the main target of their resentment, but it wasn’t clear whether that was because they were following Jonathan’s lead.

‘There could be someone else driving the campaign from the sidelines, winding up people like Jonathan who had a grudge against the victim,’ Geraldine suggested.

‘You’re saying someone else could be “egging” the others on?’ a constable said, chuckling at his own joke.

‘I’m suggesting that Jonathan might not necessarily be the ring leader,’ Geraldine replied. ‘It might just be that he has the loudest voice and talks the most and so he’s the one who’s attracted the most attention. But perhaps there’s someone with a serious grudge against David who was quietly organising these attacks and staying out of the limelight and allowing Jonathan to draw attention away from him, or her, whoever it is that’s behind all this. After all, if David had an enemy who was planning to kill him, they would hardly want to draw attention to themselves, would they? And orchestrating a hate campaign against their intended victim by winding up disgruntled protesters like Jonathan would provide any investigation with a host of other suspects. And we still don’t have any reason to suppose that his murder was politically motivated. It could have been a personal attack, which we’re missing, concealed behind a smokescreen thrown up by the protests against his policies.’

Eileen nodded. ‘At this stage, we need to consider every possibility. In the meantime, we’ve seen David’s will, and it’s fairly standard. His entire estate goes to his wife, but it’s actually not that much. There’s the house, of course, and his car, but apart from that all of his savings seem to have gone on supporting his daughter and granddaughter, and his political campaign to get himself elected. He’s not exactly a wealthy man. His work pension ceases on death, and there’s still a mortgage on the house, which isn’t paid off when he dies. So no one is financially better off without him. Quite the opposite, in fact. Anne might end up having to get herself a job, or else sell the house and downsize. And David paid Jessica an allowance out of his own work pension, which she won’t be getting any more. So the family certainly don’t have a financial motive to be rid of him.’

A team of constables were tasked with investigating the list of names Jonathan had given them, cross referencing them with reports of politically motivated attacks, especially any that appeared similar to those carried out against David Armstrong. Several of Jonathan’s associates turned out to be middle-aged women, aggrieved former librarians and retired school teachers, but one of the constables came across a potentially interesting name. Rod Browning was in his twenties and he had been involved in several violent protests while he was at university.

‘He looks like someone we ought to question,’ Geraldine agreed.

Although she wasn’t convinced that Rod’s history was necessarily significant, she went to speak to Ian who was co-ordinating the investigation into Jonathan’s associates. Geraldine knocked and opened the door of his office. When he looked up and saw her peering in, a wary expression crossed his face.

‘What is it?’ he asked, without inviting her to enter.

Ignoring his coldness, Geraldine went in. ‘Naomi’s come up with a possible suspect from Jonathan’s list,’ she said.

She was pleased that her voice was completely steady, while her feelings on being alone in a room with Ian were anything but calm.

‘It’s a young man with a history of violence. At university he was involved in a number of aggressive protests, causing damage to property, although no one was ever injured, except accidentally.’

The more she spoke, the more focused she felt on the case, and the easier it was to ignore the fact that she was alone with Ian. In that moment, she told herself, he was simply a colleague, and her senior officer. All the same, she refused to look directly at him for fear she would be distracted. His office was stuffy, and documents were strewn around untidily on his desk. When she glanced at him, she noticed that his hair was unkempt and he was unshaven. She looked away quickly.

‘In any event,’ she continued briskly, ‘he was obviously a bit of a hothead when he was younger, and just the kind of person who might do something stupid.’

‘Something stupid?’ Ian repeated. ‘You call murder “something stupid”?’

Geraldine was taken aback by the bitterness in his voice. Her glance brushed past his face; she caught only a fleeting glimpse of the desolate expression in his eyes. On the instant, her years of training seemed to slide away and she lost her grip on her professional detachment.

‘Ian,’ she blurted out before she could stop herself, ‘you look exhausted. Do you need to take some time off?’

He scowled at her. ‘Don’t you dare suggest anything of the kind to anyone outside this room.’

Geraldine hastened to reassure him that she had no intention of sharing her opinion with anyone else.

‘I can do without busybodies fussing around,’ he added sourly. ‘Look, Geraldine, I’m not going to pretend that I’m not in trouble –’ he shook his head rapidly, like a wet dog. ‘But it’s my problem, and I’ll work this out somehow.’

‘It’s not only your problem,’ she replied, struggling to control her temper. ‘This isn’t just about you. It’s about your wife, and the baby who may or may not be yours, and it’s about me. What happens in your life affects me too, you know.’

Ian held up his hand. ‘Enough, enough. Please, don’t make this harder for me than it already is. I’m sorry, I know I’m being selfish, but I can’t see any way out of this mess right now. I’ll get there, I promise, but I need some time to work this out. I’m just asking you to be patient.’

‘You know I’ll wait,’ she replied, slightly mollified. She hesitated before asking whether he had yet had a paternity test. ‘It might help you to work out what you want to do. It must make a difference, to the real father as well as to you.’

As she spoke, Geraldine realised she was still clinging to the hope that Ian wasn’t the baby’s father after all. Until he took the test, there was no way he could be sure one way or the other. She wondered whether he was reluctant to find out the truth because deep down he really wanted the baby to be his, or because that prospect terrified him.

‘Either way, you don’t have to take her back,’ she added miserably.

But Ian no longer appeared to be listening to her. With a sigh, she returned to her desk.

‘I don’t understand where the baby’s being kept,’ Ariadne said.

Still thinking about Ian and Bev’s baby, Geraldine was startled.

‘What do you mean, where he’s being kept? What do you know about it?’

‘She,’ Ariadne replied, giving Geraldine a curious look. ‘I mean, if Daisy is with her father, then how is he managing to keep her hidden? Surely someone would have seen them?’ She shook her head. ‘It’s a terrible thing to say but, frankly, I don’t see how the baby can still be alive.’

Geraldine nodded grimly.

‘We have no idea what’s happened,’ Ariadne went on.

‘Is it really coincidence that Jessica’s husband has vanished, and her father’s been murdered, both at the same time as her baby disappeared? She has to be the link. But how?’ Geraldine replied.

‘She’s certainly unlucky,’ Ariadne replied. ‘She’s like a character in a Greek tragedy.’

‘I wonder,’ Geraldine said, frowning. ‘You know the saying: you make your own luck.’

‘You mean you think she’s responsible for killing her baby and her husband, and her father?’ Ariadne asked, raising her eyebrows. ‘Is there one word for a woman who murders all her male relations? Patricide combined with infanticide and mariticide?’

Geraldine shook her head. ‘I don’t really know what to make of it all. It’s a mess, isn’t it? But Jessica’s at the centre of it. She has to be.’