don’t think sense had much to do with it,” said Diamond. “I was bushed.” He had noted the “man of the hour” remark and let it pass.
“Yes, I think Mr. Tott ought to bunk down very soon. You can’t keep going forever on black coffee.”
Tott, leaning against the wall with the back of his head against a graph of the crime statistics, certainly looked exhausted, but insisted that he would wait and see whether Mountjoy sent the promised instructions.
Farr-Jones said to Diamond, “I don’t think you have met Commander Warrilow from Hampshire. We’re fortunate to have him with us.”
A silver-haired man at his side who looked as if he might be chairman of a golf club gave a nod and said, “I’m coordinating the recapture operation.” Positive thinking. A recapture, not a hunt.
Farr-Jones said to Diamond, “The Mountjoy case was before my time, of course, but I’ve looked at the file. You were commended by the judge.”
“The police work was mentioned, not me,” recalled Diamond with modesty. “It was a team effort.”
Farr-Jones turned to Wigfull, who in spite of a night’s growth of stubble on his chin succeeded in looking reasonably alert. “Were you on the team?”
“No, sir. At that time I was in CID Administration.”
“Less newsworthy, but no less important.” Farr-Jones was obviously a student of psychology. He saw the advantage in making everyone feel important.
“It was useful experience, anyway,” said Wigfull. “But I prefer being in the front line.”
In the front line waiting to see me go over the top, thought Diamond.
“Apart from his record, what sort of man are we dealing with?” Farr-Jones asked.
Diamond realized that the question was meant for him. “Mountjoy? A good brain. Went through university. Opened his own private college, of course. A glib talker and good-looking, which is why the ladies get taken in. Physically strong. Underneath, he’s violent, as you know. He had a conviction for assaulting his girlfriend in about 1980. Badly. She had to be treated as a casualty. Sensibly the hospital reported him. Some idiot magistrate let him off with a fine and a year’s remand.”
“He also assaulted his wife, I believe.”
“Several times. The marriage survived only six months and then she had to get an injunction to keep him away. Sophie Mountjoy hadn’t much to say in his favor when I talked to her. She petitioned on the grounds of cruelty. He used to get into a frenzy of rage over quite trivial matters and beat her.”
“Not really a sadist, then?” said Farr-Jones.
Diamond gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”
“I mean he didn’t do it for sexual gratification.”
“Does that excuse it?”
“I think you’re missing the point,” Farr-Jones said, indicating Mr. Tott with his eyes.
Diamond understood now. The remark had been intended to allay Tott’s worst fears, not to whitewash Mountjoy. He glanced across to see how his case summary was affecting the Assistant Chief Constable. Very little, apparently—if he was taking anything in at all. “No, I don’t think it was a sex thing. He lost his cool and went berserk, which is how the unfortunate Britt Strand met her death.”
“How did he behave under questioning?”
“Denied everything.”
“Did he lose control?”
“He raised Cain when I told him we’d traced his ex-wife and girlfriend. I saw the temper then. To be fair, he was approachable ninety-five percent of the time.”
“Would you say that you established some kind of rapport with Mountjoy?”
Diamond gave the Chief Constable a frown softened by a smile and made no reply.
Farr-Jones nodded. “All right, that was rather obvious. I’ll lay off. What time is it?”
Wigfull said, “Five past, sir.”
“Anyone care to place a bet?”
“I give him another five minutes,” said Diamond. “No more.”
Farr-Jones looked round at the others. “Why don’t we all sit down? My money’s on nine-thirty. He’ll
“Yes, I think Mr. Tott ought to bunk down very soon. You can’t keep going forever on black coffee.”
Tott, leaning against the wall with the back of his head against a graph of the crime statistics, certainly looked exhausted, but insisted that he would wait and see whether Mountjoy sent the promised instructions.
Farr-Jones said to Diamond, “I don’t think you have met Commander Warrilow from Hampshire. We’re fortunate to have him with us.”
A silver-haired man at his side who looked as if he might be chairman of a golf club gave a nod and said, “I’m coordinating the recapture operation.” Positive thinking. A recapture, not a hunt.
Farr-Jones said to Diamond, “The Mountjoy case was before my time, of course, but I’ve looked at the file. You were commended by the judge.”
“The police work was mentioned, not me,” recalled Diamond with modesty. “It was a team effort.”
Farr-Jones turned to Wigfull, who in spite of a night’s growth of stubble on his chin succeeded in looking reasonably alert. “Were you on the team?”
“No, sir. At that time I was in CID Administration.”
“Less newsworthy, but no less important.” Farr-Jones was obviously a student of psychology. He saw the advantage in making everyone feel important.
“It was useful experience, anyway,” said Wigfull. “But I prefer being in the front line.”
In the front line waiting to see me go over the top, thought Diamond.
“Apart from his record, what sort of man are we dealing with?” Farr-Jones asked.
Diamond realized that the question was meant for him. “Mountjoy? A good brain. Went through university. Opened his own private college, of course. A glib talker and good-looking, which is why the ladies get taken in. Physically strong. Underneath, he’s violent, as you know. He had a conviction for assaulting his girlfriend in about 1980. Badly. She had to be treated as a casualty. Sensibly the hospital reported him. Some idiot magistrate let him off with a fine and a year’s remand.”
“He also assaulted his wife, I believe.”
“Several times. The marriage survived only six months and then she had to get an injunction to keep him away. Sophie Mountjoy hadn’t much to say in his favor when I talked to her. She petitioned on the grounds of cruelty. He used to get into a frenzy of rage over quite trivial matters and beat her.”
“Not really a sadist, then?” said Farr-Jones.
Diamond gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”
“I mean he didn’t do it for sexual gratification.”
“Does that excuse it?”
“I think you’re missing the point,” Farr-Jones said, indicating Mr. Tott with his eyes.
Diamond understood now. The remark had been intended to allay Tott’s worst fears, not to whitewash Mountjoy. He glanced across to see how his case summary was affecting the Assistant Chief Constable. Very little, apparently—if he was taking anything in at all. “No, I don’t think it was a sex thing. He lost his cool and went berserk, which is how the unfortunate Britt Strand met her death.”
“How did he behave under questioning?”
“Denied everything.”
“Did he lose control?”
“He raised Cain when I told him we’d traced his ex-wife and girlfriend. I saw the temper then. To be fair, he was approachable ninety-five percent of the time.”
“Would you say that you established some kind of rapport with Mountjoy?”
Diamond gave the Chief Constable a frown softened by a smile and made no reply.
Farr-Jones nodded. “All right, that was rather obvious. I’ll lay off. What time is it?”
Wigfull said, “Five past, sir.”
“Anyone care to place a bet?”
“I give him another five minutes,” said Diamond. “No more.”
Farr-Jones looked round at the others. “Why don’t we all sit down? My money’s on nine-thirty. He’ll
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