The House Sitter (25 page)

21

“Did the management provide this for you?”

Leaman rose like a startled pheasant. “Morning, guv. What was that?”

“The chair?”

“That was Anna’s idea. It comes from inside.”

“You’re on first-name terms, then?”

“She suggested it.”

“How’s it been? Quiet?”

“Remarkably.”

“She is still in there, I suppose?”

“Well, she hasn’t come out, guv. The breakfast went in about nine-fifteen.”

Diamond said in a taut voice, “What do you mean—went in? You allowed someone to go in there?”

“Room service, guv.”

“And you didn’t go in with him? Christ almighty, man. He could have been the Mariner. What do you think you’re here for?” Diamond pressed the bell on the door.

There was an agonising delay before they heard footsteps inside, and it was opened. Anna Walpurgis, triumphantly still of this world, looked out. “My shopping escort! What a star!” she said. “It doesn’t get better than this. Five minutes to finish my face, guys. Come in, and wait.” Leaving the door ajar, she vanished inside.

Knowing every word would be repeated with relish in the Manvers Street canteen, Diamond said curtly to Leaman, “You’re in the clear, then. She survived. Go home and get some sleep.”

An order Leaman was only too pleased to obey.

Inside the main room, Diamond found more of the morning papers scattered about. A Flintstones cartoon was showing on the widescreen TV. A strong whiff of perfume wafted from the open door of the bathroom, more musky than the brand Hen used to mask her cigar smells. He helped himself to a banana from the fruit bowl and unpeeled it.

He’d assumed her five minutes would mean at least twenty, and that was an underestimate by ten. But he didn’t complain. He was comfortable looking at the papers with half an eye on the TV.

When she did emerge from the bathroom she was in skintight black velvet trousers with vents showing portions of hip and thigh. Her small, sleeveless, gipsy top announced to the world that she was not wearing a bra. To top it off, a black hat the size of a police helmet, but with the added feature of a vast floppy brim.

“What do you think?” she asked him.

Tact was wanted here, he thought. He got to his feet and gave her the full appraisal. “Amazing.”

“Let’s go, then. I’m in serious need of retail therapy.”

He cleared his throat. “Allowing that we’re trying to keep a low profile, maybe the hat is just a little too eye-catching.”

“A fashion statement,” she told him cheerfully, as if that answered his objection. “I’ll be wearing my shades.”

He tried another tack. “Before we do any shopping, we’ll be moving you to your new address in Bennett Street.”

“You and whose army?”

Prickling, he reminded her, “I told you about this yesterday.”

“Change of plan,” she said sweetly. “This hotel will do for me.”

“Sorry. It’s a security measure.”

“Another of these crap safe houses? You’re not going to spoil my day before we even start on the shops?”

“Not a safe house.”

“Unsafe,” she said, with a mocking laugh.

He rephrased it. “Safe, but not in the Special Branch sense. This will be your own pad, a beautiful Georgian house in Bennett Street, one of the most exclusive areas of the city. It links with the Circus. Saville Row, with its antique shops, is just across the street. The Assembly Rooms are—”

She butted in, “What were you called again?”

“Diamond. Peter Diamond.”

She linked her arm under his. “I know you mean well, Pete, but I’m comfortable here. The shower works and the waiters are good-looking. What else could I require? So let’s you and me chill out a little and take a hike around the shops.”

“I don’t like to spoil the fun,” he said, disentangling himself, “but I’ve got to insist. The move has to be done before we see a single shop. Where are your cases?”

“Room Service took them away.”

He picked up a phone and dialled the front desk.

She said, “This is getting to be a pain.”

“I’m having them sent up.”

“Masterful,” she said with irony.

“Only thinking of your safety.”

“Like I haven’t heard that a zillion times in the past two weeks?”

“Why don’t you start folding your clothes?” he said to her just as someone answered the phone. He explained that Miss Walpurgis would be checking out shortly and required her suitcases.

Tony from Special Branch had not exaggerated. Five large cases presently came up on a trolley. Their owner, uninterested, was sitting on the sofa watching Tom and Jerry. Diamond tipped the man himself.

Alone with her again, he eyed the luggage, wondering what she could find to fill it. “I’ll have a job getting all these in my car.”

“Don’t bother, then,” Anna told him.

“Are you going to pack, or would you like me to do it?”

“‘For you, Johnny, ze war is over.’”

“I’m going to make a start.” He opened the hanging space behind the door and unhooked several coats.

She said, “Do you blow fire as well?” Swinging her legs off the sofa, she got up and picked one of the empty cases off the trolley and carried it into the bedroom.

He’d won the first round.

The packing took a few minutes over the half-hour. Each bulging case had to be forced down before the zip-fastening would work.

“And you still want to buy more clothes?” he said in disbelief.

“Louis Vuitton expects . . . I can always get another suitcase,” she said.

They called the bell-captain and arranged for the laden trolley to be moved downstairs.

Down in the lobby, Anna insisted on paying for her stay. “This was my choice of hotel,” she said.

The receptionist checked for mail. “There is a letter for you, Ms Walpurgis.”

“So soon?” she ripped open the envelope and took out a single sheet, unfolded it, went pale, and said, “What sicko sent this?”

Diamond took it from her.

Six lines of verse, produced on a printer:

“I’m afraid he knows you’re here.”

“The killer?” She put her hand to her throat. “How could he?”

“The point is, it’s happened.”

“God! What can we do?”

He felt like saying, What I’ve been trying to do for the past hour—move you out of here. But he also felt sympathy. Seeing how shaken she was, he calmly told her they were doing the right thing. Mentally he was reeling himself, at a loss to understand how the Mariner could have penetrated the security.

He showed his ID and asked the desk staff if they recalled who brought the letter in, pointing out that it must have been delivered by hand, because there was no stamp.

Nobody had any memory of a letter being handed in.

“The night staff?”

They promised to make enquiries.

He took some rapid decisions. “If you get anyone asking for Miss Walpurgis, tell them she’s not in her room at the moment. Give the impression she’s still a guest. Then contact Bath police at once. Do you understand? Next, is there a goods entrance? We’ll use that for loading the car.”

Anna, ashen-faced and silent, was taken through a door marked “Private—staff only.” Diamond moved his old Cortina to the rear of the hotel and the cases were stowed: three in the boot, one beside him at the front and the other on the back seat. After telling Anna to remove the hat he asked her to huddle up, head down, in the remaining space on the back. He covered her with the garment bag. Then he drove out, studying the mirrors for any sign of a vehicle following. He went twice around the perimeter roads of Sydney Gardens before deciding no one was in pursuit. Taking the Bathwick Street route, he crossed the Avon at Cleveland Bridge and turned south, past the Paragon, and joined Lansdown Road at the bottom. Satisfied he was still alone, he made his way up to the Bennett Street turn and came to a halt outside Georgina’s house.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

Anna’s muffled voice answered, “Terrified. Are we there?”

“I’ll open the front door first. Go straight inside when I give you the word. I’ll bring the cases after.”

He took a long look up and down the street. There were parked cars in plenty, but not one appeared to be occupied. Taking Georgina’s key from his pocket, he unlocked her front door and pushed it open.

Then he returned to the car and opened the rear door.

“OK. Go.”

Anna emerged with head bowed, like someone in custody going into court, and hurried across the pavement and inside.

Diamond allowed himself a sigh of relief.

Then she came straight out again, just as quickly, and got back into the car.

“For Christ’s sake!” he said.

“There’s a big white cat in there,” she said from the back seat. “I can’t stand cats.”

“Flaming hell! I’m trying to save you from a serial killer!”

“I’m not going in there.”

“Get your head down. I’ll deal with it.”

He marched into Georgina’s house and spotted Sultan reposing in a circular bed made of padded fabric. The cat heard him and fixed its blue eyes on him, ears pricked. Diamond scooped up the bed with the cat inside and carried it through the house to the patio door. “Does she put you outside sometimes?” he said aloud. “Calls of nature? I expect so.” He opened the door and set cat and bed on the paving.

Anna was persuaded into the house with extreme reluctance.

“What is it about you and cats—an allergy?” he asked.

“A phobia,” she said, her arms protectively across her chest. “You’ll have to find me some other place.”

A quick solution. His own house? No, she’d never agree to stay there. Another hotel? Too obvious. There was only one option. He said, “I’ll take the cat home with me.” The change of plan wouldn’t please Georgina one bit if she found out, but it would have to suffice.

Anna still looked twitchy. “Are you sure there isn’t another one?”

“Another cat? No. There’s only Sultan. I’m going to fetch your cases now. Why don’t you go through to the kitchen and put the kettle on for a coffee?”

She said, “Sod coffee. I need a tequila. Where’s the cocktail cabinet?”

Leaving her to go exploring, he spent the next minutes struggling with the luggage. The cases all had to go upstairs.

He was short of breath when he finished. In the living room he grabbed the Scotch she’d poured him.

“Whose gaff is this?” Anna asked in a calmer voice. She’d settled into one of Georgina’s armchairs, her legs dangling over one of the arms.

“One of my female colleagues.”

“Her taste in music sucks. Have you seen the CDs? It’s all Gilbert and Sullivan and Verdi.”

It would be. He remembered Georgina telling him she sang in the Bath Camerata. “It’s a comfortable house,” he said, taking the chair opposite her.

“And I’m stuck in it,” Anna said. “I was told if I came to Bath I’d be free to do those high-tone shops and restaurants. Now I discover this frigging killer is out there. How did he suss that I was in the hotel?”

“Not from me,” Diamond stated firmly. “You’re famous. Were you recognised when you registered?”

“Who knows? There were people around in the lobby. No one took a picture or asked for my autograph, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t spot me.”

“That’s probably what happened, then.”

“And you think the killer got wise to it? How?”

“He’s a very smart operator. He knew Matthew Porter was in a safe house and he found a way of getting inside and abducting him.”

She shuddered. “He wouldn’t know I’ve moved here . . . would he?”

He shook his head and tried to think of words that would reassure. His usually brusque manner wasn’t going to work here. He could empathise with Anna’s fears. He was starting to feel quite fatherly towards her. Under her glib exterior was a frightened young girl. “Only you and I know where you are at this minute. You’ll be safe if you don’t go out.”

With a touch of spirit he admired, she said wistfully, “No shopping today? I’ll call AmEx, tell them to relax.”

“Some other time.”

“Pete,” she said, “you’re not the fascist pig I first took you for. You’re doing a fine job.”

“And you can help me find him.”

“How?” she asked. “I don’t know the jerk.”

“Correction. You don’t know who he is.”

“Come again.”

“But you may know him,” he pointed out. “There’s got to be a reason why he targeted you.”

She said, “There are freaks out there who hate anyone who makes it big in the music industry.”

“The others weren’t musicians.”

“They were celebs like me.”

“Did you ever meet Axel Summers?”

“No.”

“Matthew Porter?”

She swirled her drink in the glass and took a long swig. “I don’t even know what he looks like.”

“Not too good, the last I heard.” He glanced across the room. Anna had her back to the patio window, which was fortunate, because she couldn’t see Sultan standing, front paws pressed to the glass, asking to be let in. “Do you do any singing at all these days?”

“No, I called time on that. I don’t need to work any more.”

“You’re still a name everyone knows. Do you get asked to do charity work?”