Diamond Dust

4

Halliwell was speaking into his mobile. 'We have a positive ID on the body in Crescent Gardens. Confirmed as Mrs Stephanie Diamond, wife of Detective Superintendent Diamond. I repeat…'

Diamond remained on his knees beside his dead wife, registering nothing of what was going on around him. This was not self-pity. The focus of his grief was entirely on Steph, and her life so abruptly ended. Dry-eyed and blank-faced, he was weeping inwardly for her, for her compassion, her wisdom, her sense of humour, her integrity, her serenity, her mental strength, her brilliant insights. It had been almost a psychic gift, that ability of hers to draw his attention to hidden truths. With uncanny timing, she had reminded him only the night before how he hated surprises. Here was the worst surprise ever. He hadn't remotely imagined it could happen. Had she? Without the faintest idea of why she had come to this place, he wasn't going to make sense of it now, or in the next hour, or the next day. He knew only that Steph had been the one love of his life and she had been shot through the head at point-blank range. Too dreadful.

Halliwell put a hand on his shoulder and suggested he sat in the car for a bit.

He said from the depths of his grief, 'Back off.'

Wisely, Halliwell did.

The SOCOs continued their fingertip search of the area, less talkative now. Professionals working at murder scenes often insulate themselves from the horror with black humour that might offend anyone unused to what goes on. Diamond was quite a joker himself. No sign of the weapon – apart from two holes in the head. Trust him to make a crass remark like that. Since word had passed round that she was his own wife, the jesting had stopped.

The police photographers (a civilian couple) arrived and Halliwell explained the situation. 'Hang on a minute, and I think he'll move away.'

They waited five minutes.

'Can't you tell him we're here?' the woman said. 'He knows the routine as well as anyone.'

'He's not functioning as a cop at the moment.'

'Who's in charge, then? You?'

'Technically, Mr Diamond is, but…'

They looked across. Still the big man knelt, hunched beside his dead wife. 'How long has he been there?'

'Ten, fifteen minutes. It's one hell of a shock.'

'Was he the first officer on the scene, then?'

'No, I was.'

'Didn't you warn him?'

Halliwell reddened. 'I didn't recognise her. I should have, because I've met her a couple of times. I didn't look at her as you would a living person. Saw the injuries and shut myself off from the victim. Your mind is on what happened and what has to be done. Didn't dream it's someone I know.'

'He's got to move away if we're going to get our pictures.'

'All right, all right.'

Halliwell went back to his boss and explained about the photographers. Diamond didn't take in one word of it. He was holding his dead wife's hand, cradling it between both of his.

Halliwell tried again. 'They've got to get their pictures, guv.'

Nothing.

'The photos of the scene.'

He wasn't listening. The police and their procedures were part of another existence.

Halliwell turned away and went back to the photographers. 'I can't shift him.'

'Someone's going to have to.'

'You can wait, can't you?'

The woman made a performance of looking at her watch. 'We're self-employed, you know.'

'Bollocks.' Halliwell stepped away from them and took a call on his mobile.

It was Georgina, the ACC. 'Is this true – about Mr Diamond's wife?'

'I'm afraid so, ma'am. He's here at the scene.'

'Dear God. I'd better come and speak to him.'

'With respect, ma'am, I don't think he's fit to speak to anyone just now.'

'Where is he exactly?'

'Kneeling beside his wife.'

'Poor man… I don't think he has any other family, does he?'

'None that I've heard of.'

'Close friends?'

'Outside the police? I wouldn't know.'

'It's up to us to help him through, then.'

Difficult. Halliwell doubted very much if Diamond wanted the ACC to help him through, but he'd told her already to stay away and he couldn't keep repeating it. He looked towards Diamond and saw him reach for the plastic covering and replace it over his wife's face. 'I'm going over to him now, ma'am. He may be ready to leave.'

Diamond stood up, paused for a moment more beside the body and then walked across to Halliwell. His eyes had the unfocused stare of the freshly bereaved, but he was able to find words now, and he made it clear that he wasn't thinking of leaving. 'What have we found, then?' he asked in a flat voice.

'Not much so far, sir. It looks professional.'

'You're searching for the bullets?'

'Of course.'

'And the cases? If they used an automatic…' He lost track of the sentence for a moment, his voice breaking up. Then he managed to control it. 'The weapon could still be around. Get some back-up. All this area has to be combed. Every yard of it.'

'Right, sir. Can the photographers get their pictures now?'

'I'm not stopping them.'

The hiatus was over. He was making a huge effort to show he was capable of carrying out the familiar routines. He checked that the police surgeon had been by to certify death, and Halliwell confirmed it.

'And the pathologist?'

'On his way, sir.'

'Middleton, I suppose?'

'Sir.' Halliwell found himself slipping in that 'sir' far more than usual. Normally he was more relaxed with his old boss. 'I'd just like to say-'

'No need,' Diamond cut him short. 'We understand each other. Take it as said.'

The cover was removed entirely from the body for the photographs and video record. More sightseers had gathered behind the police tapes to watch. A violent death in broad daylight was a rare event in Bath. Stephanie Diamond was fully clothed, yet it still seemed offensive that she should be an object of ghoulish interest. Her husband knew if he told them to move on, more would take their places.

So the painstaking process continued. The body was on the grass to the rear of the old bandstand, obscured from Royal Avenue, the road that crossed the lawns below the Crescent. The Victorian shrubbery nearby fringed the car park and trapped the litter that blew across the open lawns. The search for traces of the killer would be a long job.

The forensic team arrived in their vans. While they were putting on their sterile overalls, Halliwell hurried across to warn them who the victim was. Diamond didn't want sympathy from anyone, but he could be spared the backchat that went with the job.

The next twenty minutes passed slowly and mostly in silence, with the white-suited figures clustered around the body.

Someone must have tipped off that old motormouth, Jim Middleton, the forensic pathologist, before he arrived – a merciful act. He said nothing. Just put out a hand and rested it briefly on Diamond's shoulder in a gesture of support. Then took the taped route to the corpse and studied the scene. Diamond followed.

'Has anyone touched her?' Middleton asked.

'The police surgeon,' Diamond said. 'And forensics. And me. She hasn't been moved.'

Middleton crouched for a closer inspection. 'Bullet wound to the frontal, almost dead centre. Very close range. You shouldn't be here, you know. You're too involved.'

'I can handle it.'

'I don't doubt you, old friend, but that isn't the point.'

'This is the work of a hitman,' Diamond said, ignoring the criticism.

'Do you know something?'

'I'm talking about the bullet wounds.'

'Two, to be sure, you mean? I wouldn't read too much into that. They look very deliberate, measured almost, but that's speculation. Could equally be some crazy with a gun who happened to point the muzzle towards her and pull the trigger twice.' Middle ton crouched and peered closely at the powder burns around the neat hole the bullet had made in her forehead. 'Are you sure you want to be here?'

Diamond didn't answer, but remained where he was.

Middleton took a small tape recorder from his briefcase and started describing the wounds. He lifted each eyelid, the beginning of a slow, methodical examination. He inserted a thermometer into a nostril and noted the temperature. Felt the arms and tested for rigor by moving one. Looked at the hands and fingernails. Loosened the clothes around the neck and searched for other signs of injury. Turned the body and studied one of the blood-encrusted exit wounds at the back of the head.

'Have they picked up the bullets?'

'Not yet.'

'Buried in the ground, I dare say.'

'We can use a metal detector.'

The pathologist remained for over an hour before signalling to the waiting funeral director that he was ready to have the body removed to the hospital mortuary. Diamond stood back and watched his dead wife being lifted into a plastic zipper-case, and then into a plain fibreglass coffin, which was carried up the slope, through the crowd, loaded into a van and driven away.

With self-disgust he thought back to his first reaction to this, how he had been elated at the news of a shooting. And later joked about waiting to be introduced to the victim.

'Big shock,' Middleton said to Diamond. 'You want to go home now, take a Valium.'

'There's work to do. You know as well as I do – the first twenty-four hours are crucial.'

'Yes, but it shouldn't be you.'

He didn't dignify the suggestion with a response. Instead, he walked over to Halliwell. 'The bloke who found her – where is he?'

'Went off home, guv. He had the dog with him.'

'That's no reason to leave.'

'We took a short statement'

'A dog doesn't need to go home. Dog would stay in the park all day if it got the chance. Does he live nearby?'

'The Upper Bristol Road.'

'Which end?'

'This end, I think.'

'Get him here fast. I want to speak to him.'

He escorted Middleton to his car. 'Anything else you noticed?'

The pathologist said, 'What you don't find can be just as informative as what you do. Did you look at her hands?'

'I held them.'

'No damage. No sign that she put up a fight. When someone holds a gun to your head, you try and push it away. You fight for your life. This was quick, Peter. She didn't know much about it.' He opened the car door and got in. 'I wouldn't expect too much from the post mortem.'

Diamond watched him drive off.

Some time after, a constable approached him with a tall, thin man in tow. 'Sir, this is Mr Warburton, the gentleman who found the, em…' His voice trailed off.

Warburton, in his thirties, had a down-at-heel look, lank, dishevelled hair, his hands deep in the pockets of a black overcoat that was coming apart at the shoulder-seam. The shock of the morning's discovery may have left him looking troubled, or it may have been his stock expression. He swayed a little.

'You've been drinking?' Diamond said.

'A wee drop,' Warburton answered. 'It helps me sometimes. I got the shakes.'

'You found the body, I believe?'

'Heard the shots, didn't I?' He flapped his hand in the general direction of the Royal Crescent. 'I was right up there with my dog, causing no trouble, and I heard it go off and came down here.'

'What time?'

'Couldn't tell you.'

'We logged the call at ten-twenty, or thereabouts. See anything?'

'No.'

'Are you sure? How long after the shots did you get here?'

'Dunno.'

'Two minutes? Five? Ten?' As he said it, he knew he wouldn't get a precise estimate. The man was three-quarters slewed.

'Thought it was someone taking a pot at a rabbit.'

'Here?'

'I've seen them.'

'Why bother at all, then, if you thought it was someone after rabbits?'

'Followed my dog, didn't I?'

'Was nobody else about?'

'Not that I saw.'

'Had you been drinking?'

'Might have. Don't remember.' Pure bad luck that the only witness happened to be a wino.

'So what happened?'

'Like I said, I followed my dog. He found her first. He's a lurcher. Kind of stood over her waiting for me to get there. I thought it might be one of my mates, fallen asleep. Then I see the bullet holes.'

'What then?'

'Scared me, it did. I looked around for help and there wasn't none.'

'Did you hear anything? Movements in the bushes? The sound of anyone running off?'

Warburton shook his head. 'I belted down to the car park and there was a geezer just drove in. He had a mobile and I asked him to call the Old Bill.'

'Was anyone else in the car park? Anyone leaving?'

'Give us a break, mate. I was so shit-scared I wouldn't have noticed me own mother walk by.'

'And I suppose they told you to wait here and not touch anything.'

'If you know it all, why ask me?'

'And pretty soon the first police car drove up?'

'And found little old me holding the fort.'

'You didn't find anything near the body?'

'Like what?'

'Like money, for instance? A handbag?'

'Here, what do you take me for? That's a fucking insult considering I did my public duty.'

'If anyone did take anything from the scene, they're in trouble. It's a serious offence.'

'Don't look at me. I did nothing wrong.'

Diamond was inclined to believe him. 'Don't drink any more. That's an order. I may want to speak to you again.'

He found Keith Halliwell and told him to remain at the scene. 'I'm leaving you in charge. I want to check on certain pieces of lowlife and their movements earlier today.'

'Shall I do that?' Halliwell offered.

'You find the bloody bullets. And look for spent cartridges as well.'

He made the mistake of returning to Bath Police Station to begin his check on the Carpenters. Georgina walked into his office before he'd picked up a phone. She must have asked the desk to alert her the moment he returned.

'Peter, we're all devastated. I can't begin…'

He nodded. 'I'll cope… thanks.'

'We'll get them – whoever did this. I promise you that. I've put Curtis McGarvie in charge.'

His tone changed sharply. 'You what?'

'DCI McGarvie, from Headquarters. A good man.'

'It's my case.'

Georgina hesitated. 'Peter, there's no way-'

'My wife. My case.'

'That's the point. You're personally involved. If you took this on – as I'm sure you could – we'd lay ourselves open to prejudice, a personal vendetta. If it came to court, prosecuting counsel would cut us to ribbons.'

Diamond shook his head. 'I have the right-'

This time Georgina interrupted him. 'You don't. I'm sorry. This is hard for you to take, but you don't have the right. You know perfectly well that someone else has to handle this. Curtis is already on his way to Victoria Park.'

'He's too bloody late.'

'What?'

'She's been moved.' His brain churned out a compromise. 'Look, I don't mind working with McGarvie, if that's what you want. A joint investigation. As far as the CPS is concerned, it can be his case.'

'Absolutely not. You're staying right out of it. You're a witness.'

'To what? I saw nothing.'

'Be serious, Peter. This looks like a contract killing. The first line of enquiry has to be your enemies in the criminal world. He's going to want a list of everyone you put away, every villain you crossed since you came here. Your evidence is going to lead us to the killer, and the people behind the killer if – as I suspect – they hired a hitman. You can't be the investigating officer and chief prosecution witness as well.'

The truth of that got through to him, but it still denied him what every sinew in his body was straining to begin: the pursuit of Steph's killers. 'What am I supposed to do? Take a holiday?'

'You'll be involved, providing information. Oh, of course you should take time off to get over the shock.'

'What – sit at home with my feet up, surrounded by memories of Steph? That isn't any use to you or me. I want a part of the action.'

'If you'd like counselling…'

'Don't push me, ma'am.'

'I mean it. You've got to rebuild your life. We have trained people we can call on. Why refuse?'

'Because I sort out my own sodding problems, thanks very much. I don't want time off and I don't want to see a counsellor.'

'When you have a chance to reflect, you may see the sense of it.'

'I think not.'

'Well, I'm going to insist you take a couple of days at least. You can forget our conversation this morning.'

He had forgotten it already.

'About organised crime,' she reminded him, 'and going to Bristol. You'll need to be here when Curtis wants you for interviews. And, anyway, you can't investigate the Carpenters.'

'Why not? Have they become a protected species?'

'It would prejudice the case – if they're behind this ghastly crime.'

'So I'm sidelined.'

'I wouldn't put it that way. Take it day by day. I've asked you to take some time off. You'll need it, believe me. And in the meantime, let's hope for quick results from Curtis McGarvie.'

'That's it, then?'

Georgina nodded.

When he'd almost left the room, Georgina said, 'Peter.'

He swung around. 'Mm?'

'Don't defy me.'