Dead Man's Dive, page 19
Next, she updated the custody sergeant about Jameson’s status.
“Okay, Tamsyn. I’ll try to get someone to relieve you sooner rather than later, but it’ll probably be a couple of hours yet.”
Tamsyn thanked him. She knew how it went – even sergeants couldn’t always keep promises like that.
The custody sergeant wasn’t aware of all the facts surrounding Paul Jameson, but Tamsyn wasn’t about to breach any confidences or tell him anything that she knew about the dead diver case. But as he was her CO, she did offer her opinion that Jameson wasn’t a criminal or a violent person.
“He told me he’d been going through a hard time,” she paused. “Perhaps when he’s back in custody and has sobered up, maybe just a caution would be appropriate.”
Tamsyn hoped she hadn’t overstepped with the sergeant, but she guessed that DI Rego would back her up. Her gut told her that Jameson was telling the truth, in which case, he didn’t need to be charged, he needed help – and she would try to to get it for him.
The sergeant was silent for several seconds, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her.
“Use the time to write up your notes,” he said, then rang off.
After another half an hour, Tamsyn was allowed to sit with Jameson. He was still in her custody, and she was responsible for him and responsible for making sure he didn’t escape. Even though he wasn’t exactly a career criminal and didn’t have ‘Great Train Robber’ stamped on his forehead, the shit would hit the fan if he escaped from custody, no matter how trivial the offence.
She didn’t have any handcuffs, although she knew that she could have asked for some to be brought to her, but she also knew that Paul Jameson wasn’t going to make a run for it. She sat by his bed, watching his shallow breaths. Even in sleep, she could tell he was in pain, and she felt another twinge of guilt about his broken rib – or ribs – no one had told her how many she’d broken.
She continued watching him until he began to wake, opening his eyes slowly and looking up at her.
He swallowed several times, licking his dry lips.
“Thank you for staying,” he said at last, his voice ragged, the ugly lividity around his neck telling its own story.
“That’s okay,” Tamsyn said quietly. “Look, Paul, I know what you’ve been through recently. I’m going to get you some help.”
She wasn’t sure he was taking in what she was saying.
“What’s your name?”
“PC Poldhu, Tamsyn.”
“Good Cornish name,” he said, his eyes closing and his mouth twisting with the semblance of a smile. He opened his eyes again. “The doctor says you saved my life.”
Tamsyn nodded. “That’s what they told me, too.”
Jameson closed his eyes again.
“I haven’t decided if I want to thank you yet.” He let out a long sigh. “Everything has gone to shit. I thought it was bad when Freddie left … I thought that was bad enough. I loved him, and I thought he loved me.” His eyes opened tiredly. “Have you ever been in love, Tamsyn?”
“No,” she said honestly.
“I loved Freddie. And then I find out he didn’t leave me, he died. He was murdered, wasn’t he?”
“What makes you think that?”
“If it had been an accident, everyone would have been talking about it when it happened, and they wouldn’t have left him … they wouldn’t have left him down there, but it was all hushed up.”
He tried to shrug but winced instead.
“Do they know who killed him?”
“I don’t know. I’m just a student PC – no one tells me anything.”
“I know how that feels,” he said quietly.
Tamsyn was being slightly disingenuous, but she really didn’t know what was happening with this case … or even that there was a case.
Jameson thought for a moment and sighed.
“Do you know Detective Inspector Rego?”
“Yes.”
“Can you get him for me? Just him, no one else.” He looked up and met her gaze. “There’s something I need to tell him.”
Chapter 24
When Rego woke up and saw Tamsyn’s messages, he didn’t even wait long enough to make himself a cup of coffee.
“Sorry, luv,” he whispered to Cassie, who was watching him dress. “I’ve got to get going – it’s important.”
“Seriously? You mean you’re leaving me with your mother? For how long? It had better not be all day!”
Rego nodded and gave her a quick smile.
“It won’t be all day. Scout’s honour.”
Cassie rolled onto her back and closed her eyes.
“You owe me, Robert.”
“I know,” he said, leaning down and kissing her. “I’ll make it up to you.”
She pulled him down to deepen the kiss.
“I’ll be waiting,” she smiled at him, running her hand over his thigh.
Rego squeezed his eyes shut. There were times when he really hated being a copper.
As soon as he was in the car, he tried calling Tamsyn, but the call when straight to voicemail and he guessed that her phone had died. He decided that he’d wait to speak to her in person rather than going through Treliske’s switchboard where anyone could be listening.
He wanted to speak to Jameson as soon as possible, and definitely before he was taken back to Camborne.
He didn’t know what had precipitated Jameson’s attempt to kill himself, it could be any one of several different things: finding out that his boyfriend was dead; the interview at Culdrose; admitting to senior officers that he was gay – any of those things could have triggered him. It was also possible that there was something else going on – maybe Jameson knew more than he’d been prepared to say during the formal interview.
He felt a small pinch of guilt but then immediately dismissed it: it was a legitimate line of enquiry and Jameson had come to him. There was nothing in their previous conversations that could have led him to believe Jameson would try to end his life. Were there any signs that he’d missed? Rego didn’t think so, and from what he’d read in the report he’d accessed on his phone, it wasn’t a planned attempt, more like drunken desperation to end the pain and confusion.
It was shit, but shit happened. And Rego knew that the custody sergeant would be swimming through the stuff now, having a detained person very nearly successfully commit suicide.
Rego was so deep in thought that he almost missed a weary-looking Tamsyn standing at the bus-stop.
He pulled up and rolled down his window.
“Get in.”
She opened the door and slid into the passenger seat with a soft groan.
“Long night?”
“The longest,” she yawned.
“I tried calling you back,” Rego said.
“My phone died,” she said sheepishly.
“Don’t go on duty with anything less than a full charge.”
“I know. Sorry, sir.”
“Tell me about Jameson.”
Tamsyn recounted everything she could remember as they drove to the hospital car park, up to and including Jameson’s request to speak to Rego.
“And who’s with him now?”
“PC Chris Rowe from Camborne.”
“What’s he like?”
“She. She seems nice. Paul … Mr Jameson … he’s been crying a lot.”
“Okay. Thank you, Tamsyn. You did well last night.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Do you want to wait for the bus or I can give you a lift back to the station in about half an hour or so.”
She hesitated, then said tiredly.
“I’d love a lift back but my car’s at Camborne.”
“No problem.”
“In that case, yes please. Um, is it okay if I just take a nap in your car?”
Rego smiled at her as he parked and opened the driver’s door.
“Of course. See you in a bit.”
When Rego arrived at the Acute Medical Unit, Jameson was asleep and an older woman officer was sitting next to him, reading something on her phone.
She stood up when she saw him.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Chris, isn’t it?” he said pleasantly.
“Yes, sir,” she smiled, clearly pleased that he knew her name.
“How is he?” Rego asked, gesturing to Jameson. “Has he said anything.”
She glanced down at her tablet.
“He’s been sleeping since PC Poldhu left at 8.25am. The only thing he said was to ask if you were coming.”
“Okay, go and get yourself a cup of coffee and wait outside while I talk to him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Rego studied Jameson’s unhealthy pallor, the dark circles under his eyes, and the ugly purple ligature marks around his neck, the heart monitor still attached to him and the man’s shallow breathing. Gently, he shook his shoulder, hoping that none of the doctors or nurses would have a go at him for waking a patient, but they were all too busy to notice.
Jameson’s eyes opened slowly and he blinked up at Rego.
“Thanks you for coming.”
“I hear there’s something you want to tell me.”
“Can you help me sit up a bit, please?”
Rego fumbled with the bed’s remote control until Jameson was half-lying, half-sitting.
“Thanks. Can I have some water?”
Rego smiled to himself, remembering similar stalling tactics during Jameson’s formal interview. His smile faded as he thought about the man’s subsequent decision to kill himself.
He helped Jameson take a few sips of water, then set the plastic cup back down.
“Freddie did ask me to share classified intelligence,” Jameson began. “He said it would help the Ukrainian cause. All he cared about was a free Ukraine – he was passionate about it – really hated Putin, really hated the Russians.” He licked his lips. “I wanted to help him but I was scared. I thought I’d be found out. He kept asking me but I kept saying that I needed to think about it. He started getting angry with me. A couple of times, he hit me.” He closed his eyes. “I’d didn’t tell anyone because I was embarrassed. I just said I’d fallen down a flight of stairs.”
“Did you give Freddie any sort of intelligence at all, classified or non-classified?”
“No, nothing. I promise.”
Rego sat back, wondering what this information added to the case.
“Do you think Freddie asked anyone else to share intelligence?”
Jameson pulled a face.
“I thought he might have been seeing someone else. There were quite a few times when no one seemed to know where he was. I thought it was just because we had to be careful about our relationship, but one time…”
“Go on.”
“Well, one time I found an earring on the floor in his room.” He hesitated, then looked up at Rego. “A woman’s earring – a long, dangly one. Not something a guy would wear … unless he was a drag queen.”
Jameson laughed hoarsely at his own joke, then winced in pain.
“Do you have any idea who that was?”
“None. I was afraid that he’d dump me if I asked him about it.”
“Okay, thank you for your time, Mr Jameson and…”
“Wait, Inspector!” Jameson said urgently. “I haven’t told you the most important part!”
Rego hid his impatience well.
“And what’s that?”
“During the interview, they wanted to know if I’d been asked to look after any equipment that was non-UK military. I didn’t think it counted,” and his cheeks coloured at the lie, “but I had Freddie’s laptop. We were watching a film on it in my room the night before the training mission. And then … the next thing I knew, the Ukrainians had gone.”
Rego’s heartrate sped up but he made sure his expression remained neutral.
“That could be useful,” he said. “When can I pick it up?”
Jameson pulled a face. “I don’t have it anymore.”
This time, Rego showed his irritation.
“I know, I’m s-sorry,” Jameson stammered. “It was stolen about three weeks after Freddie disappeared. Well, it could have happened sooner. I’d put it away because I thought … I don’t know what I thought, but I hoped…” Jameson sighed. “Anyway, it was stolen. I didn’t report it – obviously – and I was sort of glad it was gone. I was so angry with Freddie by then. I’d have enjoyed telling him that his precious laptop was gone. He never used to let me touch it.” Jameson’s face fell. “I don’t know who took it.”
Rego’s mind was racing.
“Could it have been the woman he was seeing?”
Jameson pulled a face.
“I don’t know.”
“Who knew you had it? Did you tell any friends? Any colleagues?”
Jameson threw him an incredulous look.
“No one even knew that I was seeing him! Let alone that he’d left his laptop in my room.”
Rego shook his head. “Someone knew.”
“Maybe … maybe it was just coincidence?” Jameson suggested.
Rego really didn’t think so. He waited for more but it seemed that Jameson had nothing left to say.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” Jameson said weakly. “It doesn’t seem to matter now.”
Rego didn’t tell him that it bloody well did matter. He also didn’t tell him that he believed Kuzma had been grooming him. It wasn’t something that was only done by paedophiles to children: grooming was about getting someone to trust you, and once you did, they would persuade you to do something that you wouldn’t normally, because, hey, you trusted them, right? No one was immune to that; grooming could happen at any age.
“Do you remember the make of the laptop?” Rego asked, focusing on the here and now, focusing on where he could make a difference. “Was there anything distinctive about it?”
Jameson closed his eyes in frustration.
“A military laptop, you know, a seriously tough piece of kit designed to withstand the knocks of a military environment – police use the Panasonic Toughbook, right? Freddie’s was similar and he was proud of it; he said it exceeded the strictest MIL-STD requirements and IP ratings for shock, drop, and resistance to dust and water. It even had a full magnesium alloy case to protect the LCD screen.”
His gaze brightened.
“Did you know that the Danish Army strap the tablets in front of their armour so they can receive commands and see where both friends and enemies are located.”
“Paul, focus.”
“Okay, I’m sorry … it looked a bit like the Toughbook CF 54, black and silver, but it was a Russian brand name.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember.
“It could have been Asus? But I’m not sure. It had its own handle but he kept it in a black messenger bag – just like every laptop everywhere.”
His voice dropped again.
“You don’t know what it’s like for me. I left that interview room feeling totally humiliated. It felt like you were all laughing at me for being so fucking naïve. And that woman, the one with the face like a smacked arse, I’m sure she was pissing herself laughing at me.”
“No one was laughing at you,” Rego said.
Jameson looked up, his expression bleak.
“I’d never felt so lonely in my entire life. I mean, yeah, some of the people I work with know I’m gay, but it was kind of an open secret, you know? After being interviewed about Freddie, it was like school all over again,” and he gave a bitter laugh. “It felt like I’d been ‘outed’. And I kept thinking that the whole of the shore establishment would know about me. And I know that it isn’t supposed to matter and you say that no one would judge me, but I just couldn't shake it from my mind that my career was over. So, I went to my room, changed out of my uniform and decided I had to get off the base. I really bloody needed a drink. I ditched my wallet, only taking some cash. I didn’t want to run into anyone I knew, so I headed for Penzance. I left my RFA ID in my glove box – I knew it would cause a shit storm if I lost that. And then…” he met Rego’s gaze. “Well, you know the rest.”
Rego stood up to leave the cubicle.
“Thank you for your time, Mr Jameson. I may need to ask you some more questions, but I’ll let you know.”
“Inspector?” Jameson called weakly.
“Yes?”
“When you find out what happened to Freddie, will you let me know?”
Rego nodded slowly. “I’ll tell you what I can.”
It was only when Rego got back to his car that he remembered Tamsyn was there.
She’d lowered the backrest as far as it would go, and her head was pressed against the passenger window at an awkward angle. Her blonde hair fanned across the seat, and her mouth was slightly open.
Rego paced away from his car and pulled out his burner phone to call Vikram.
“Vik, I’ve just spoken to Jameson again. He said that Kuzma had a laptop which was left with him when the Ukrainians left, but that it was stolen from his room approximately three weeks later.”
“Interesting,” said Vikram. “Very interesting. Did he have any idea what was on it?”
“I don’t think so. He mentioned watching a film on it with Kuzma, but he used the term ‘his precious laptop’ which made me think Kuzma viewed it as something important, and he was never allowed to touch it. The other thing Jameson told me was that Kuzma had solicited intelligence from him, but that he’d refused. He gave me the impression that if Kuzma had stayed around – or alive – he would have given in eventually. I’d say he was in love with Kuzma, but that Kuzma was grooming him. He also thought that Kuzma was seeing someone else – a woman. He found a dangly earring in Kuzma’s room.”
Vikram whistled through his teeth.
“Do you believe him?”
“Yeah, Vik. I do. The man tried to kill himself.”
“Could be a guilty conscience.”
“I guess it could be but that’s not the vibe I was getting from him.”
“Do you believe the story about the laptop? That it was stolen? That it even existed?”
Rego nodded even though Vikram couldn’t see him.
“If you’d seen him, you’d have believed him, too. And at this point, what’s he got to lose?”
