Monday
‘You’re not responsible,’ Strathen said when Marvik broke the news to him. ‘But telling you that doesn’t make it easier or better.’
‘No, but I’ll get the bastard who did it.’
‘We’ll get the bastard,’ Strathen corrected.
Marvik took a breath. He stared ahead at the grey, turbulent sea as he headed west out of Swanage Bay. There wasn’t another boat in sight. He’d let an innocent woman die. It was pointless going through the ‘if onlys’ – he’d already done that, but still they tormented his troubled mind. If only he’d insisted knowing where she was staying. If he’d stayed in Swanage and said he’d help her. If he’d told her that he’d been at the funeral and what he knew of Pulford would she still be alive? He didn’t know. And neither did he know why she had been killed, but he was convinced it wasn’t a random killing – it was linked to this mission. She could have been killed because of her association with him as a warning for him to lay off asking questions or because she was getting too curious about Bradley Pulford.
He voiced these thoughts to Strathen, adding, ‘Crowder claims he knew nothing of Sarah Redburn or her father and I didn’t stick around to find out if Sarah managed to track down the Killbecks. I can deal with that later. See if you can find out where she lives, Shaun. Crowder said he might be able to get it but that he’d already gone out on a limb to get the information about her murder.’
‘The police will apply for her phone records.’
‘Yes, and they’ll see that I called her several times yesterday and this morning. They’ll come asking questions, but it will take them a while before they get access to the records and locate me. I’m on my way to see Gordon Freynsham at Lyme Regis. He was the last person to see Oscar Redburn and Sarah said she’d visited him recently. I’ve got a fair bit of information on him from his website. He’s got a degree in geology and a Masters in palaeontology. The first from the then Southampton Polytechnic where Sarah told me he studied with Oscar, the second from Durham University. He’s worked overseas as a geologist and is now a fossil trader, a business he set up in 1989.’
‘The year Pulford returned.’
‘Yes. Maybe it’s a coincidence.’
‘Yeah,’ said Strathen dubiously.
‘He sells online and through a shop in Lyme Regis. I’m just hoping he’s there. His website says he’s often at fossil shows around the UK, Europe and America and he also gives guided fossil-hunting trips along the Jurassic Coast of Devon and Dorset. I don’t want to have to trek around the bloody coast trying to locate him. He’s in the process of fronting a new television series of Jurassic Coast though so the likelihood is he’s staying local.’
Marvik had considered calling the number given on the website but had decided against it. He wanted to catch Freynsham unaware to see his reaction when he put questions to him about Oscar Redburn. And although Marvik had no reason to suspect that Freynsham would lie, or that he had anything to do with Pulford or Sarah’s deaths, Marvik wasn’t going to take that chance. Much better to have the edge of surprise. The website boasted that the shop was open seven days a week. Marvik hoped to find the owner on site or, failing that, close by.
Strathen said he’d also see what he could get on the dock strike of 1979 as well as on Oscar Redburn.
It was mid-morning when Marvik moored up on one of the few visitors’ berths in the lee of the harbour. It gave him some protection from the prevailing westerly wind. He located the shop with ease. It had a prominent position on the waterfront and seemed to be doing a brisk trade. He introduced himself to the middle-aged, faded woman behind the counter as a journalist who would like a quote from Mr Freynsham. She disappeared into the back of the shop saying she would see if her husband was free to speak to him. Marvik breathed a silent sigh of relief, glad he had located Freynsham. This would save time. A couple of minutes later she waved him through to a small room crowded with wooden sample cabinets, like those in old-fashioned pharmacies. There were also a couple of modern grey filing cabinets, a large oak desk, littered with papers, books and fossils, and a chair in front of the desk. The room was cold and smelt of dirt and decay. Behind the desk sat a slender man in his mid-fifties with collar-length light-brown hair swept back off a narrow face with a crumpled, lived-in look and an air of superiority in the light-brown eyes behind the heavy rimmed, fashionable spectacles. He waved a hand in a feminine gesture at the seat and smiled. It vanished the instant Marvik said he’d like to ask him some questions about Oscar Redburn. The skin paled beneath his tan and his eyes registered fear as he shifted uneasily.
‘Who?’ he asked, feigning a baffled expression.
Marvik said nothing, just continued to stare at him.
Freynsham squirmed under the icy gaze. He removed his glasses and nervously licked his lips. ‘Why do you want to know about Oscar? He disappeared years ago.’
‘That’s exactly why I want to know about him.’
‘I don’t know anything about it,’ he said, replacing his glasses and avoiding Marvik’s eye contact. ‘I don’t remember him.’
Marvik sat forward and in a low, harsh tone said, ‘Then let me refresh your memory. You were at Southampton Polytechnic together and you were the last person to speak to Oscar Redburn before he vanished. You also told the police that Redburn was coming to the Jurassic Coast fossil hunting – a strange thing for him to do when it wasn’t his field of interest or expertise.’
Freynsham’s eyes darted to the door where Marvik could hear voices coming from the shop. ‘Who are you? Why are you asking about Oscar?’ he asked nervously.
Marvik remained silent.
‘Are you family?’
‘No.’
‘Police?
‘No. I’m not a journalist either but the media might be very keen to know about your connection with Oscar Redburn, especially given the fact that his daughter was found dead this morning not far from here.’
Freynsham’s face went ashen. ‘Dead! You mean …’
‘Murdered. Yes. And I know for a fact that she contacted you about her father.’ Marvik could see he’d struck gold. He could smell Freynsham’s fear. ‘So why don’t you tell me what really happened in 1979 and why Redburn disappeared or do I have to go to the tabloids with the story? It would make very salacious reading, you being a television personality. Sarah Redburn murdered and your connection with her father. And the police would certainly be very interested. I—’
That did the trick. ‘I can’t talk here.’ Freynsham sprang up, grabbing his waterproof jacket from the back of his chair.
Marvik felt a stab of victory but it was short-lived when he recalled it was too late to tell Sarah, and his resolve hardened as he followed Freynsham into the shop, which was crowded with tourists.
‘Just popping out for a while,’ Freynsham said tersely to his wife.
She looked set to protest as more people tumbled into the shop but a glance at Marvik silenced her. As Freynsham headed for the door he was halted by a man in his forties who proceeded to tell him how much he enjoyed the fossil-hunting programmes on the television and that he was looking forward to the new series. Freynsham smiled politely and said all the right things but he was clearly agitated and keen to get away. That went for Marvik too.
He followed Freynsham out, wondering what he had to hide. Marvik’s interest deepened as Freynsham seemed very keen to put as much distance as he could between them and the people in the streets. He was heading for the Cobb, the long sea wall that curved far out to sea and provided no protection from the elements. It was a risky place to be in wild weather. The gaudy yellow notices warned pedestrians that it could be hazardous, especially in high winds, and the wind was rising. Freynsham ignored the warnings and strode on. The waves were slapping against the concrete structure, whipping up flicks of spray over the edge. They had the place to themselves. Perhaps Freynsham thought he could push him off the far end of the wall when they reached it. Was he a killer? He didn’t look like one but driven by desperation to cover up something from his past which Sarah had ignited might have made him one. Lyme Regis was fifty-five miles from Swanage, about eighty minutes by car. Freynsham could have arranged to meet Sarah on the beach or in a secluded place above the bay and killed her.
Freynsham, deep in thought, a frown on his narrow forehead, the salt from the sea spraycoating his spectacles, made no attempt to talk; it was as if he was somewhere else, and perhaps he was, in 1979. Could Redburn actually have gone missing from here? wondered Marvik. Had Freynsham and Redburn argued and had Freynsham pushed him over the edge? Was that why he wanted to come here to confess to the murder, where there would be no witnesses and where he thought he might do the same to Marvik? But surely the man wouldn’t be such a fool to think he could get the better of him?
Freynsham marched on until they were on the furthermost exposed part of the Cobb. Here there was no protection, just a drop into the sea. The cliffs and hills stretched out behind them and to their right and left, the chill wind barrelled off the sea and the spray cascaded up at them. It only then occurred to Marvik that perhaps Freynsham, finally faced with someone who had come in search of the truth and who wasn’t going to be fobbed off with lies, was going to throw himself in. Marvik steeled himself in case he had to dive in to save the man. In this type of sea and at this time of year it would be a close-run thing.
Taking a breath, Freynsham turned to face Marvik. ‘I can’t tell you anything that can help shed any light on why he disappeared. Just like I told his daughter. I’m sorry she’s dead.’
‘Did you kill her?’ Marvik asked sharply.
‘No!’
Marvik eyed him disbelievingly. ‘Then why come all the way out here just to say that? You could have told me that in the shop.’
‘You wouldn’t have believed me and you’d have made a fuss, maybe even wrecked the shop.’ His voice was taut with an edge of fear. ‘Here no one can see or hear us. I can’t afford any bad publicity. I have a reputation to consider – you saw that. I’m very well known.’
And an arsehole, thought Marvik, eyeing him steadily. He didn’t have time to piss about and he wasn’t in the mood. He didn’t know what game Freynsham was playing but it wasn’t one he was going to join in. Swiftly he grabbed Freynsham, spun him round and wrenched his arms behind his back in a tight grip. Freynsham let out a cry of surprise and pain. Marvik leaned close to his ear and in a threatening tone said, ‘OK, so we’re alone, in the middle of fucking nowhere, no one can hear us and no one can see us, and if they do I’ll say I was trying to persuade you not to jump. Is this what you did to Redburn? Did you push him off here or off a cliff and hope his body would never be recovered? Did you?’ Marvik bellowed the last two words, making Freynsham start.
‘You’ve got it wrong.’
‘Have I? Then stop pissing me about – you’re not on television now.’
‘All right, all right. Just let go of me.’
Not bloody likely. Marvik tightened his grip.
‘Stop. Please, I’ll tell you.’
‘Then do it quickly before I shove your scrawny carcase off this wall and tell the world you were so fucked off with fossil hunting and the TV that you decided to end it all.’
‘You wouldn’t.’
‘You want to take that risk?’ Marvik put his foot out in front of Freynsham. ‘One shove and you trip over my boot and into the sea.’
‘OK. I was in love with the bastard.’
Marvik eased his vice-like grip on Freynsham’s arms but still held on to him. ‘Go on.’
‘Not that there was ever anything physical between us,’ Freynsham hastily added. ‘Oscar was all man and I have never had a homosexual affair. But I was infatuated with him. He was charismatic, clever and fun. He was also evil, vindictive and highly manipulative. He could get people to do exactly what he wanted, when he wanted. Everyone worshipped him. He had only to click his fingers or say the word and people fell over themselves to please him, especially women. Linda wasn’t his only girlfriend. She probably wasn’t the only one he got pregnant either. But he married her. She was a nurse and willing to continue working even after the baby was born. That suited Oscar fine. He could live off her wages.’
Marvik released his hold.
Freynsham rubbed his arms and turned to face Marvik. ‘I didn’t kill him and I didn’t kill his daughter.’
‘Not sure I believe that, Gordon. Is this where you arranged to meet him and when he laughed at you for declaring your undying love you pushed him into the sea?’
‘No!’
Marvik made to step forward. Freynsham hastily continued, ‘Yes, we came here but I didn’t kill him. I had a car. I was the only student with my own transport. It had been my dad’s and he passed it on to me when he was given a new one. He’d got a promotion and a company car, a Ford. It was a big deal in those days and probably why Oscar latched on to me,’ he added with sourness. ‘I used to ferry him around.’
‘And you thought a day in the West Country would make Oscar putty in your hands,’ sneered Marvik.
Freynsham flushed. ‘He told me I was nuts and depraved and walked off. I was shocked and hurt. I nearly threw myself in.’
‘What stopped you?’
Freynsham remained silent. Marvik continued, ‘You thought of a way to get even with him for hurting you.’
‘No. I returned to the car expecting Oscar to be waiting there for me with that cocky mocking expression on his face but he wasn’t. I looked for him. I couldn’t find him so I drove back to Southampton and tried to forget about my humiliation. I wasn’t sure that I could face Oscar the next day. I was on the verge of chucking in my degree when Linda came to me to say that Oscar hadn’t been home and did I know where he was. I said I had no idea, which was the truth – no one knew we’d been together at Lyme Regis. I asked around at the Poly but no one had seen or heard from him. I went round to the house Oscar and Linda were renting. I couldn’t say that I had seen him only the day before and where because, just as you have done, people might think I’d pushed him in.’
‘Did anyone know about your feelings for Oscar?’
‘No. I made sure never to tell anyone. You won’t go to the press, will you? Think of what it would do to my wife and son.’
‘Go on.’
‘I’m telling you the truth in exchange for your silence.’
‘You told the police he’d gone fossil hunting. You could have just said you had no idea where he was.’
‘I know. I should have done but I panicked and said the first thing that came into my head.’
And Freynsham was the panicking kind. Still, Marvik knew there was more but was this in any way connected with Pulford? How could it be except for Sarah, and Sarah was dead. Was that because she had contacted this man or because she’d been seen with him? Or was it both? Or even neither.
‘Why would Oscar go missing in the middle of industrial action when he thrived on protests?’
‘You know about that? Because he was bored. It wasn’t giving him the attention and kudos he wanted.’
‘But to miss the big day of action when many workers were going to come out on strike doesn’t seem to be in character.’
‘It does if you had known him. Oscar wanted to be a big fish in a big pool, not a little one in a little pool, and with the nurses and ambulance drivers joining in the protest Oscar’s small part and ours at the docks was nothing. Hospitals are much bigger news: how the workers are putting patients’ lives at risk and all that kind of stuff. The media would lap that up and they did. When Oscar didn’t show up I just thought he’d gone off with some tart for a few days but I couldn’t tell Linda that, and I didn’t tell his daughter either.’
‘What did you tell her?’
‘That I had no idea where Oscar had gone, which is the truth. And I had to stick to my original statement.’
‘When did you tell her this?’
‘Months ago.’
It was a lie. Marvik clenched his fist and stepped forward.
‘Early February,’ Freynsham hastily corrected. ‘It was the first time I’d met her and no, she had never been in touch before. She asked me if I had a photograph of Oscar because she didn’t have any and she couldn’t find any of him in the university or newspaper archives.’
Marvik wondered if that was true. Sarah hadn’t told him that. If Oscar Redburn had liked the limelight so much then surely the local newspaper photographer would have covered the protest and taken pictures which had included Oscar. And there would have been pictures of him as president of the students’ union.
‘I said I couldn’t help her.’
Marvik didn’t believe that. ‘OK, so let’s go and get that photograph.’
‘But I haven’t—’
‘Now.’
Freynsham nodded. ‘My car’s at the back of the shop.’
They set off down the Cobb; the waves were breaking over the top, spraying them as they hurried, the wind pushing them along. Freynsham drove in silence to the northern outskirts of the town and turned off just before the signpost to the village of Uplyme. Judging by the style and size of the detached house, Freynsham had done well for himself. It was set back from the road, screened by hedges and approached via a broken wooden five-bar gate and weed-strewn gravel drive. He pulled up in front of the porch and, unlocking the front door, disabled the alarm. Marvik stepped into an untidy and grubby hall piled with books and boxes. Freynsham left Marvik in the hall while he ran upstairs. Marvik could hear him in a room at the back of the house rummaging around. He reappeared a few minutes later, his face flushed and hair awry, carrying a photograph which he handed to Marvik.
‘It’s the only one I have,’ he said.
Marvik wasn’t sure if he believed that, but recording the minutiae of life hadn’t been the trend in 1979 like it was now.
‘The colour tone’s gone off,’ Freynsham said, handing it over. ‘That’s Oscar.’ He pointed at the orange-tinted picture of two men. Marvik found himself studying a man with long, wavy light-brown hair, a narrow face, moustache and lively, laughing dark eyes. Sarah didn’t look like her father and neither did her personality match his, if what Freynsham had told him was true. Perhaps she took after her mother. Freynsham was on the left of Redburn.
‘Why didn’t you want Sarah to have this? You could have scanned it and emailed it to her.’
‘I didn’t want it all raked up again. I thought she might give it to the newspapers or the police or both and try to get the case on Oscar’s disappearance re-investigated.’
‘You didn’t show the police this?’
‘They didn’t ask. Linda probably gave them a photograph.’
Then why hadn’t Sarah a copy of that? Perhaps she did have, on her computer or mobile phone, neither of which had been found with the body according to Crowder, but they could be in the room in her bed and breakfast accommodation. Marvik tucked the picture into his jacket pocket. Freynsham opened his mouth to protest then closed it again.
‘I’ll return it.’
‘No need,’ Freynsham promptly replied, obviously in the hope of getting Marvik out of his life for good. Marvik wasn’t certain he could do that. He asked to be dropped off on the seafront but made no attempt to alight. Instead he asked Freynsham if he knew a man called Bradley Pulford.
‘No.’
Marvik scrutinized him carefully. His surprise and puzzlement seemed genuine. ‘How about Joshua Nunton?’
Freynsham shook his head. In a worried voice, he said, ‘Will you be back?’
‘Depends on what I find.’
‘You think Oscar is still alive?’
Marvik paused for a moment. ‘No.’
‘Then why—?’
‘I’ll be in touch.’
Marvik watched Freynsham drive away before heading for his boat. What was it about Oscar Redburn that Freynsham hadn’t told him? Had Redburn re-surfaced in 1989 as Bradley Pulford? But why? Marvik had no evidence to support that, except that Sarah’s murder must mean something. And although he was reluctant to return to Swanage in case he was questioned by the police, he knew he had to because he needed to know if Oscar Redburn had reincarnated himself as Bradley Pulford, and that meant talking to the Killbecks.