‘Did you get them?’ Helen asked eagerly, looking up from a computer screen.
Marvik pulled the diaries from the inside of his jacket and handed them to her. She opened one. Then her hands froze and a shadow darkened her face. ‘I’d forgotten what Mum’s handwriting looked like …’ Her voice trailed off. Suddenly the tears sprang from her eyes. ‘Shit.’ She sprang up, clutching the diaries, and ran from the room.
Marvik let her go. He was glad to get Strathen on his own. He wanted to trust him. He did trust him otherwise he wouldn’t be here. And he wouldn’t have brought Helen here but there was something that had to be cleared up.
Without preamble he said, ‘Why were you in the bay below that coastguard cottage the day Ashley Palmer disappeared?’ He saw Strathen’s surprise. ‘The course is set on your helm.’
Strathen took a breath and slowly nodded. He wasn’t going to deny it.
‘I was hoping to find out what the hell Palmer was doing, and persuade him he was making an idiot of himself and wrecking his career into the bargain if he thought he could sell information and get away with it. I thought I could also get him to tell me who was paying him for company information and catch the bastard who was buying the stuff. Yeah, I thought I could recapture my commando days even with a gammy leg and it was this fucking leg that stopped me.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because I was ashamed, angry and pissed off. I tried to get up that cliff.’ He ran a hand over his closely cropped dark hair and sighed heavily. ‘We could scale anything, Art. I thought I was OK. I thought I could do it – after all there are men and women in a worse state than me. For Christ’s sake some of them are winning medals in the Paralympics. Well I failed. No matter how many times I tried I couldn’t climb that cliff. So I called you.’
Marvik could see instantly that it was the truth. But he could also see there was more. Strathen’s eyes clouded over with anguish and frustration.
‘I lost it. I suddenly ran out of all the things we had stood for, Art: the sense of humour even in adversity, endurance, courage. The mission mindset was completely blown. I’d kept it up through all the pain, the hospitalization, the rehabilitation. I suddenly thought “sod it”. I turned the boat around and went out into the channel. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I thought …’
Marvik made damn sure not to show any sympathy or pity in his expression. He didn’t even express empathy. He just said solemnly, ‘What stopped you?’
Strathen took a breath. ‘You’ve got to be tough to do that.’
‘You’re tough all right.’
A silence fell between them. Marvik didn’t say anything as fatuous as ‘it’s early days yet’, or remind Shaun of what he’d told him when they’d met up at East Cowes, that he was awaiting two different types of prosthetic limbs to be fitted, one for running, the other for swimming. Sometimes facts made no difference to how you felt.
Strathen pulled himself up. ‘Then I’d better prove I’m tough,’ he said grittily. ‘I’m going to return to that cliff and ruddy well scale it, but after we find Charlotte, and alive.’
‘Right. So let’s get on with it.’ Marvik sat down. ‘Someone was waiting for me at the house. I didn’t hang around to see who it was, maybe I should have done. It might have helped speed things up.’
‘Could be just the monkey and not the organ grinder and the monkey might not have spoken up.’
‘Or know who is behind this and what the hell’s going on. So have you and Helen managed to unearth anything in my absence?’
‘I spoke to Vera again, managing to catch her before she went home. She can’t remember the company using the Union Services Club conference rooms during 1997 or before then but she said she’d check tomorrow and get me a list of the events that Esther organized and the guest lists. She says that one of the directors attends the Remembrance Service every year depending on who is available at the time. She’ll let me know who went in 1997.’
‘Has she asked why you want to know all this?’
‘I told her it has nothing to do with Palmer’s disappearance and that I’d been asked to look into Esther’s death by a friend. She didn’t ask who.’
‘But she could alert one of the directors.’
‘She could, even though I asked her to keep it to herself. It’s a risk we have to take. She gave me one piece of interesting information though: Roger Witley is in Germany on business.’
Marvik’s thoughts ran along the same lines as Strathen’s. Germany was where the application Palmer was working on had just been patented. ‘Could he be involved in Ashley Palmer’s disappearance?’
Strathen shrugged. ‘Witley’s got a high profile in the business world. He’s very well respected and has a reputation for spotting talent and applications that will be commercially viable; maybe he spotted Palmer. But why hand it over to a competitor when his own company would benefit? It can’t be for money because although he has an expensive lifestyle – a large house in the posh part of Winchester, two kids, one at Cambridge, the other at Durham University, and a wife who is big on the charity circuit – he’d rake in more money if his company patented and manufactured anything Palmer came up with. He’s in demand as a keynote speaker at seminars and conferences worldwide and he’s ex-army, served in the Falklands War, although he was then only twenty.’
‘Could he have known Esther’s father?’
‘I’m checking. Witley left the army after six years aged twenty-five and went to work for Danavere, where he very quickly scaled the company heights to become a director in 1998, aged thirty-six, and has been prospering ever since.’
‘What about Professor Shelley and his sister, Beatrice? How flush are they?’
‘You’re wondering if they’re siphoning off funding from DRTI and sharing it with Witley or the other directors?’
‘Perhaps that’s what Palmer discovered and he threatened to blow the whistle. Although that shoots to pieces the theory that Palmer, Charlotte and Esther are connected because DRTI weren’t around in 1997. Perhaps either Witley or the Shelleys met Palmer at Cowes. Shelley could have got hold of Palmer’s mobile phone, after he’d been disposed of, and set up the text message, or Witley could have sent it to Shelley to divert suspicion from them.’
‘I’ll check if Witley owns a boat. The Shelleys wouldn’t know their starboard from their port or their aft from their for’ard. From the research I’ve already done on the Shelleys I’d be amazed if they had their fingers in the till. Their credit checks are good both for the business and for them personally. They live together in an old rambling house that their mother left them just outside Fareham. But they could have money stashed away in foreign bank accounts. If Shelley is siphoning off funds though he’s not the materialistic or socially ambitious kind but he could be using it to fund some invention or application of his own. And if Palmer’s vanishing act isn’t linked to Charlotte’s disappearance or Esther’s death then maybe we should rule out anything connected with Danavere.’
‘Except Lester Medway and a possible affair, or perhaps Witley was having an affair with Esther and does have his hands in the DRTI till.’
‘Beer?’
Marvik nodded and followed Strathen into the modern galley kitchen. There was no sign of Helen but the door to one of the bedrooms was closed and Strathen indicated by the nod of his head that she was inside.
Opening the large fridge Strathen handed Marvik a beer and grabbed one for himself. ‘I’ll cook something for us to eat. Pasta be OK?’
Marvik nodded and took a welcome swallow of beer. As Strathen began to prepare the meal Marvik said, ‘We know that Blackerman didn’t kill Esther so whoever did managed to get into the Union Services Club and we know that security there is very strict. You can’t just walk in off the street. IDs and membership cards have to be shown, which means Esther’s killer was either a service man, a veteran, someone working for the emergency services or retired from the emergency services – who are also eligible for membership – or an employee.’
‘That’s still a hell of a lot of people. And they won’t still have records of who stayed that night but the police should have a copy of it.’
‘And Crowder won’t give me that in case accessing the files alerts whoever it is he’s after.’
‘They’re already alerted.’
‘Yes, but the killer doesn’t know the police are involved.’
‘Unless the police are involved. I can’t find anything on Crowder. Admittedly I haven’t had time to look very deeply and he could be active on serious crime or intelligence, which is the reason why I can’t find him.’
Or perhaps he wasn’t from the police at all, thought Marvik again. ‘If there is a list on file of those who stayed at the club that night then it might have been sanitized by Bryan Grainger or Duncan Ross, or someone higher up the food chain. But Witley could have been a member then, and still might be. He could have been there that night.’ Marvik took another swig of beer.
‘There is another alternative,’ Strathen said, flicking on the cooker. ‘While members have to show a form of ID, visitors of members don’t, and neither do they have to sign in. The killer might not be a member but was meeting a member there. The member would have met him at the door and vouched for him. He kills Esther and slips away again.’
‘And is his accomplice aware of his murderous intention?’
‘Probably.’
Marvik left a short pause before continuing. ‘So we’re looking for someone who could have access to the Union Services Club or knew someone who did. I think we can rule out a staff member because they wouldn’t have had the clout to keep this investigation low key and I can’t see why someone from the fire or ambulance service would want to kill Esther or have the means to pull weight with the police, and that goes for the fire fighters who turned up to free Esther and Blackerman from the lift. Dr Lester Medway could have arranged it so that he could get into the club.’
‘I’ve met him and I can’t see him as a killer.’
‘Perhaps he got someone else to do it.’
‘Whoever it was, Esther let him into her room.’
‘Which means she must have known him.’
‘She did.’ A voice came from the doorway and they turned to see Helen, pale faced and red-eyed, holding one of her mother’s diaries. ‘It’s that slimy bastard John Stisford.’
‘It can’t be him, Helen,’ Marvik said after a moment. ‘He just doesn’t have the kind of pull we’ve experienced these last few days, and he can’t have kidnapped or ordered the abduction of Charlotte.’
‘Then read this.’ She thrust the diary at him. Strathen moved the saucepan of pasta off the hob and waited while Marvik quickly skimmed the pages of neat small handwriting in black ink.
Hotly she said, ‘I told you he was trying to get into Esther’s knickers, and I was right. Mum found him trying it on. How the hell could Esther have gone with him to the Remembrance Service?’
Marvik didn’t know but he intended finding out. He stretched the diary across to Strathen and said, ‘That was written in 1995.’
‘And before that Mum talks about how marvellous he’s been, what a comfort, always being there for her, supportive and reliable. And how she knew he had a soft spot for her but that she’d made it clear at the outset there could be no one else, only my dad.’ Helen took a breath. ‘How she loved him and couldn’t come to terms with his death. Fuck that war.’ She turned away. Marvik watched as she pulled herself up and swung back trying desperately to control her emotions. She took a breath and continued. ‘Then she talks about her illness, and how, even if she wanted another relationship, which she didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to have one. She just hoped she could live long enough for her daughters to be able to manage on their own.’ She swallowed hard. ‘Then she found that slime ball trying it on with Esther. She threw him out and told him never to come near them again. Esther said she could handle him, not to worry, nothing happened. He was just a pathetic sad creature. But Mum writes that Esther was only saying that because she didn’t want to upset her. Well you’ve read it. Then nothing. Mum stopped writing. He followed Esther to her room and killed her.’
‘No.’
‘You’re so bloody sure of yourself, aren’t you?’ she raged.
‘Not really,’ he quietly replied. ‘But I don’t think he’s played straight with us and I’m going to ask him why.’
‘Then I’m coming with you.’
‘No.’
‘It was my sister that he killed,’ she blazed.
‘He didn’t kill her,’ Marvik repeated quietly. ‘But I’ll do whatever I need to do to get the truth out of him and I need to do that alone. I can’t have you there,’ he insisted. ‘I need you here working with Shaun. Time is running out. Please let me handle this my way.’
She opened her mouth to protest, eyeing him coldly, but Marvik held her hostile stare. After a moment she sighed and held up her hands. Grudgingly, she said, ‘OK, but if you come back with nothing more from that sleaze bag I’ll go there myself.’
Steadily Marvik said, ‘I won’t come back empty handed.’
There was a pause then Strathen said, ‘Let’s eat.’
‘I …’ Helen began.
‘Eat,’ Strathen ordered.
And she did, picking at her pasta at first then devouring it hungrily. Marvik watched the colour come back into her face and the tension ease from her slender body. He knew that Strathen noted it too. None of them spoke during the meal. By the time they’d finished and cleared away it was almost ten. Helen was looking drained and tired. Catching sight of his reflection, Marvik thought he didn’t look too bright himself. Strathen had already offered the spare bedroom to Helen. Now over coffee he said, ‘Take my bedroom, Art. I’ll kip down on the couch in the lounge when I’m ready. I want to get cracking on some of that research tonight.’
Helen looked up. ‘I’ll help you,’ she said, trying desperately to stifle a yawn.
But Strathen shook his head. ‘You’re no good to me tired. I need fresh eyes, tomorrow morning will do.’
She didn’t put up much of a protest. ‘Mind if I have a shower?’
‘Be my guest.’
‘Then I’ll turn in. Art, I …’
‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ he cut in with a smile but he was already planning to leave long before she woke and Strathen would know that. Marvik waited until he could hear Helen in the bathroom. He crossed to the window in the lounge and gazed out across Southampton Water to the lights in the distance. Tomorrow he would put pressure on Stisford. And hopefully Vera, at Danavere, would come back with more information.
He turned to Strathen. ‘We’ve got to protect Helen.’ It was too late to protect Charlotte.
‘She’s very strong willed and unless one of us stays with her then she’ll either make a mistake and let on where she is, or she’ll make a bolt for it. She can stay here but this leg means I can’t protect her if it gets rough.’
‘I think you can. No, listen, you might not be able to physically run away as fast as they’d come after you, but when did you ever run away, Shaun?’
‘Wednesday.’
‘But you knew that was wrong. You weren’t thinking – or rather you were and you thought of another way around the problem. It just happened to be me. And both you and I have got out of worse jams than this. If they show up here, you’ll think of a way to deal with them. I’ll leave early in the morning. Can I take your car?’
‘Of course.’
Marvik turned in, leaving Strathen to continue working. It was four a.m. when Marvik heard him go to bed. Marvik rose an hour later. In the kitchen he found a note from Strathen: ‘Roger Witley served in the same regiment as Jim Shannon and John Stisford. And all three served in the Falklands War.’
Now Marvik had something else to talk to John Stisford about. He stuffed the note in his pocket, sliced off a hunk of bread and slapped some ham inside it. Grabbing the car keys he headed for Weymouth. There was a great deal to do and not much time to do it. Maybe no time at all.