Diamond Dust (4 page)

6

H
e nicked one of the scratches shaving and it bled on his shirt: too little concentration after too little sleep. He'd finally flopped onto the sofa and drifted off for about two hours - only to be roused by the
Guardian
being shoved through the door. Then he was forced to accept the unthinkable over again.

'You look rough,' McGarvie told him unnecessarily.

'So do you.'

Actually McGarvie was one of those people who always look rough - no bad thing in CID work. Still in his early forties, he was marked by too many late nights and too many whiskies. Under-nourished, pock-marked, with bags under his eyes, he had a voice like the third day of a God-awful cold.

He'd brought Mike James with him, a newish, far-from-comfortable DC who Diamond himself had plucked from the uniformed ranks.

Diamond offered coffee and admitted, when asked, that he hadn't eaten breakfast. He chose not to reveal that he hadn't been able to face food since yesterday.

'So where are we on this?' he asked while they stood in the kitchen watching the kettle. 'What have we got?'

McGarvie hesitated. That 'we' obviously troubled him. 'I've got a hundred and twenty officers on this. Fingertip search. Door-to-door in all the streets nearby. Incident room up and running.'

'What I meant is what have we learned?'

'Forensics take their time. You appreciate that.'

'But you do know certain things - what time she was shot. Ten-twenty.'

'If we're to believe the guy who found her.'

'She was at home in Lower Weston when I left at eight-fifteen.'

'That was one thing I was going to ask.'

'And the Carpenters?' Diamond pressed him.

'Des and Danny appear to be watertight for yesterday morning.'

He shook his head. 'Surprise me.'

'Des was motoring back from Essex and has a credit card voucher for fuel placing him on the M4 at Reading Services at ten-thirty.'

'I'd check the forecourt video if I were you.'

'It's in hand.'

After spooning instant coffee into two mugs Diamond moistened the granules with a dash of milk from a bottle that must have been on the table since yesterday. 'You like it white?'

McGarvie frowned at the lumpen mess. 'Sure.'

Mike James just nodded. He was so ill at ease in the home of his bereaved boss he would have drunk the cat's water if it were handed to him.

'And the other one? Danny?'

'At the gym in Bristol for an hour until ten, signed in, signed out, and vouched for by the staff there, and afterwards went to his solicitor in Clifton.'

'Who of course recorded precisely when he arrived and left? They really wrapped this up.'

'You think they used a hitman?'

'Don't you?'

McGarvie left the question hanging. Diamond poured hot water into the mugs and handed them over. Curds and black granules rose to the surface. McGarvie picked up the spoon and stirred his. They carried them through to the living room. The curtains hadn't been pulled.

'DI Halliwell was telling me about this woman who attacked you after the trial,' McGarvie said. 'Had you seen her before?'

'Just a faint memory of her sitting in the public gallery. She must have been one of the crowd who screamed at the judge.'

'But you didn't come across her when you worked on the case?'

'No. It's possible some of the team did. I didn't do all the legwork myself. Do we know who she is?'

'Not yet.'

'Blond, shoulder-length hair. Tallish. Five-seven, five-eight. Probably under thirty. Long fingernails.'

'I can see.'

Diamond put his hand to his face. The scratches were still there, though the incident seemed like a century ago. 'She was in some kind of trousef suit. Black or dark blue.'

'Did you see who she was with?'

He shook his head. 'Some of the Carpenter mob. Heard them shouting. I was avoiding eye contact at the time.'

'I wonder if anyone got it on video. There must have been camera crews around.'

'Didn't notice any.'

'Let's get back to your wife.'

'Wish I could.'

McGarvie glanced at Diamond, who gave a sharp sigh, more angry than self-pitying.

'Sorry. Go on.'

'This has to be asked. Can you think of anyone with a grudge against her?'

He shook his head. 'Steph didn't make enemies. I never knew anyone who disliked her.'

'The opposite, then. Someone who fancied her?'

The idea caught him off-balance. 'A stalker?'

'It happens. Had she mentioned anyone giving her the eye in recent weeks?'

'No.' This line of enquiry was a waste of time in his opinion. 'I've got to face it — she was murdered for no better reason than being married to me.'

'I'm trying to keep an open mind. How did she spend her time?'

'She's always done charity work, serving in the Oxfam shop, and Save the Children at one time, organising the rota, running the stall at this or that event.'

'Was that where she was going yesterday?'

'What day was it? I have to think. I've lost track.'

'Tuesday.'

He shut his eyes to get his brain working. 'Tuesday was the morning she kept clear for shopping and so on.'

'She didn't tell you what she was planning?'

'She would if it was out of the ordinary. I guess it was going to be the same as any other Tuesday.'

'If she'd arranged to meet someone, she'd tell you?'

'Always.'

'Did she write it down anywhere? A calendar? An appointments book?'

'Diary.'

McGarvie's eyebrows arched hopefully.

'In her handbag,' Diamond added. 'Did you find it?'

'No.'

'It's not here. I can tell you that. She always had it with her if she went out. I was thinking last night it's strange the bag was taken - unless someone else came along after she was . . .'

'Possible,' McGarvie agreed.

They both reflected on that for a moment before Diamond said, 'I don't think a hitman would take it.'

'Probably not.'

'And I can't believe she was mugged.'

'Why not?'

'Shot dead - for a handbag?'

'You don't want to believe it,' said McGarvie, 'and I can understand why. But there are yobbos out there who hold life as cheaply as that. We can't discount it. Why was she in the park? Was it a place where she liked to walk?'

'No.'

'You mean not at all?'

'That's what I said.'

'Never went there?'

'Hardly ever. And she didn't go for walks on Tuesdays. She was always too busy catching up with herself. It was her day for jobs, shopping, some cooking sometimes, housework.'

'Was there a phone call?'

'Before I left, you mean? No.'

'Could she have made one?'

'Not to my knowledge. You'd better check with BT.'

'It's in hand,' McGarvie said. He seemed to be doing the right things. 'Did she carry a mobile?'

'Do we strike you as the sort of couple who carry mobiles?'

'In other words, no.'

'Are you thinking she was lured to the park?' Diamond said.

'Possibly. Or driven there. Met the killer somewhere else.' He glanced around the room. 'He could have come here.'

'I don't think so.'

'We can't be sure.'

'She's not going to invite a stranger in. She knew better than that. And you're wrong about being driven there. Steph wouldn't get into a car.'

'Unless she was forced.'

'She'd have put up a fight.'

'There are no signs of it.'

This was true, he knew. He remembered holding her cold, limp hands. And the pathologists's remark about the state of them. 'Is Middleton doing the PM?'

'Eleven-thirty.'

He closed his eyes and was silent for a moment. 'Who's going to be there?'

McGarvie steered the conversation away. 'You said she had no enemies, so let's talk about yours.'

'Waste of time.'

'Why?'

'Come on. This has the Carpenters written all over it' 'In my shoes, you wouldn't say that. You know the danger of going for the obvious. No disrespect, Peter, but you've roughed up more villains than just the Carpenters.'

'Ancient history.'

McGarvie drew a long breath to contain his patience. 'Don't you think you owe it to her to help me?'

The tactic worked. Diamond dropped his opposition. 'Villains with old scores to settle? Here, you mean? In Bath?'

'Let's start here, any road. I remember the case that made your name here, the body in Chew Valley Lake, but that wasn't your first.'

He nodded. 'There were five before that, three domestic, the others drugs-related. Far as I know, all of the killers are banged up.'

'The kid who murdered Mrs Jackman?'

'Bore me no grudge.'

'The con who escaped from Albany?'

'Back inside.'

McGarvie displayed a more than superficial knowledge of Diamond's career as he went through the principal investigations of recent years. He must have studied the files overnight. You couldn't fault the man's thoroughness. But as Diamond had warned at the outset, nothing useful came out of it. The killers he'd put away had been mainly loners, not one of them connected with organised crime in the way the Carpenters were.

'What about your private life?'

'My what?'

'People you know outside the job.'

'You're thinking I pick fights with the neighbours? I haven't got the energy. I pay my bills on time - well, Steph does. Call at the pub for a quiet pint once in a while, and I mean quiet. They don't know who I am. Come home, feed the cat, mow the lawn - the daily grind.'

On cue, Raffles came around the door, sized up the visitors, decided DC James was the softer touch and began pressing his side against the young man's shins. James tried to ignore it.

'Forgive me - I have to ask this,' McGarvie said. 'Your marriage. Was it going well?'

Diamond said with a slight break in his voice, 'It was all right.'

'No possibility that she—'

'None.'

For a while the only sound was the cat's purring as it continued to lean against James's trousers.

Finally McGarvie said, 'I have this major problem with the Carpenter theory. If it's a contract killing, as we suppose, why did they target your wife?
You
should have been the mark. You, or some witness, or the lawyers, or the judge. Not your wife. You and I know what these scum are like. If they take revenge it's not at one remove.'

Diamond shrugged. He couldn't understand it either, and he had nothing to contribute.

'Can I feed him?' DC James asked.

'What?'

'The cat. He's hungry.'

Diamond hadn't even noticed. 'If you like. The tins are in the kitchen. Shelf over the cupboard.'

When the two older men were alone, McGarvie once again raised the possibility that Steph had a secret life Diamond had not been aware of. 'We work long hours, get home tired. It's not surprising if our women don't always tell us everything that happened.' Seeing Diamond's expression he spread his hand and held it up. 'Don't get me wrong. I'm not suggesting she had a relationship. Just the possibility that she got into something she didn't want you to know about, something slightly dodgy that got out of control.'

Diamond glared. 'Such as?'

'I don't know. I'm guessing. What do middle-aged women get up to? Gambling?'

'Not Steph.'

'She didn't owe money to anyone?'

'Forget it. She wouldn't borrow a penny.'

'I suppose she didn't do drugs?'

'This is bloody offensive.'

'Would you mind if we searched her bedroom?'

'Christ - what for?'

'Peter, I haven't the faintest idea what might turn up, but it needs to be done.'

'Now?'

'It's as good a time as any.'

He stared out of the window. 'I'd tell you if there was anything.'

'But have you been through her things?'

Of course he hadn't. That would be a breach of trust. They'd always respected each other's privacy. He was damned sure Steph had nothing to hide from him.

Being brutally honest with himself, if he were investigating some other woman's murder, he'd insist on a proper search, just as McGarvie was doing. You don't rely on the husband to tell you everything.

'Come on, then.'

He led McGarvie upstairs.

Their bedroom was ready for inspection, the bed made, clothes put away, though that hadn't been his purpose when he tidied up the day before.

McGarvie started with the dressing table, removing the two drawers entirely and placing them on the bed. Steph's make-up, combs and brushes were in one, her bits of jewellery in the other. Apart from her wedding ring, which was on her finger when she died, she hadn't the desire to deck herself in what she called spangles and fandangles. Much of the stuff never saw the daylight and had been inherited from aunts and grandmothers. McGarvie opened every one of the little boxes and looked into the velvet bag containing the single string of pearls Diamond had bought her on their wedding day.

He asked which of the two chests was Steph's, and Diamond pointed to it. With the same thoroughness he pulled the top drawer completely out and felt among her underclothes, watched sullenly by Diamond. At the back of the second drawer was a shoebox full of letters. 'Do you know what these are?'

Diamond went over to look. When he saw his own handwriting on one of the envelopes he grabbed the box with both hands. 'You won't want this.'

'How do you know?'

'They're from me, ages ago.'

McGarvie held out his hands. 'Sorry, but there may be other letters, more recent ones. I've got to go through the box.'

'It's too bloody personal.' He didn't hand it back.

Wisely McGarvie chose to let him mull over that, and continued with the search. That second drawer had evidently been Steph's storage place for photos, invoices, vouchers, visiting cards and newspaper cuttings. It would take a team of detectives to follow up every lead. 'I'll have to take all this away ... as well,' McGarvie said.

Diamond didn't commit himself. He doubted if there was a clue to the killer in there, but he didn't want to impede the investigation. 'Why don't you look in the wardrobe?'