Killing with Confetti

25

The second-best suit hadn’t been improved by Diamond’s going up the ladder and along gutters. Ingeborg, bless her, had liberated a red rosebud from a flower arrangement in the pub for her boss to wear as a buttonhole, telling him it would divert attention from the wrinkles.

Brazen it out, then.

Shoulders back, chin up, he made sure he was first along the receiving line before the official start. He had a different greeting for each of the main players.

For the groom: a firm handshake and, ‘Congratulations, young man.’

For the bride: a polite brush of cheeks, more congratulations and, ‘Make sure he treats you well.’

For the bride’s father: a meeting of eyes, a nod and a cool, ‘Good to see you.’ To which he might have added the words, ‘still breathing.’

For the groom’s mother: ‘Leticia, how nice,’ and an attempt at a social kiss which she transformed into a collision of lips and a hug that would have snapped the ribcage of a lesser man.

For the groom’s father after that: a raised thumb that said he had survived the embrace and Bath CID was on the case.

Encouragement was never more needed. George Brace had taken the phone call about Paul Gilbert badly. He may have been expecting trouble, but to have it confirmed that a gunman had overpowered one of the team and beaten him about the head and body with an assault rifle was deeply alarming. If he’d said, ‘Oh my God,’ once, he’d said it ten times over.

Diamond, for all his swagger, was actually more shaken than an astronaut on re-entry. He’d never wholly believed George’s theory about a murder attempt at the wedding. Now he was chastened: finding young Gilbert trussed up and injured had been a personal blow. Seeing the AK-63 for himself removed all doubts how deadly the intent was. He was shamed by the miscalculation he’d made. Far worse could have happened, like a bullet to Paul Gilbert’s head. He’d put the young man in harm’s way. Should have posted someone more experienced on the roof. Because a drive-by shooting had seemed more likely than a sniper’s shots, he’d considered the balustrade as no more than an observation point, the safe option. How stupid was that?

But this wasn’t the time for beating himself up. An armed man was roaming free and meant to kill. He had to be found and stopped. Get on the case, Diamond, or you’ll regret this day for the rest of your life.

With a wedding reception in full flow.

They were under the coffered dome in the reception hall, as grand a setting as Bath could rise to, certainly grander than the Pump Room, the Assembly Rooms or any other public building. A string quartet was playing ‘What a Wonderful World.’ The contrast between the jollity of the occasion and the imminent threat couldn’t be more stark.

No penny-pinching at this wedding. Vintage Perrier Jouet was on offer, courtesy of Joe Irving. Any high-principled policeman would have sucked on a lemon rather than take a sip. Diamond wasn’t high-principled, and wouldn’t normally allow anything to get in the way of a good drink, but mixing it after the beer session with the team wouldn’t be clever, so he carried his glass to the side and tipped most of his into a giant floor vase containing a flower arrangement. From behind the clusters of white hydrangeas he would have a view of everyone coming in. And no one would notice the suit.

In truth, it was unlikely that the gunman would enter the same way as the official guests. Going by young Gilbert’s memory of a black T-shirt, jeans and balaclava, the guy was unsuitably dressed for a wedding, If he hadn’t given in and gone away, he’d be inside the building already, hiding up and waiting for a chance to get close without being noticed.

Or was that another mistaken assumption?

‘Excuse me, sir.’

He tensed.

The hand on his sleeve was a young woman’s. She had crept up from nowhere. If she’d been the gunman, he’d have been dead meat.

His hand snaked inside his jacket and gripped the handgun.

She had a disarming smile. ‘Sorry if I startled you.’

‘Not at all.’

‘Are you with the bride or the groom?’

‘The groom, I suppose.’

Small talk wasn’t his forte at the best of times. Here and now it was asking for a miracle.

‘Would you mind joining the group over here? We’re working against time, you see.’

He didn’t see. And she didn’t look as if she was working, dressed as she was in a quivering ostrich-feather fascinator and a close-fitting peacock blue dress from which much of her appeared eager to escape.

Who did she think she was, ordering people about?

‘Not now,’ he said, taking his phone out instead of the gun. ‘I’m about to get a picture of the bride.’ A smart detective always has a cover story.

‘She’ll still be here, believe me,’ she said. ‘This won’t take more than a couple of minutes. I’m with Maurice, the official photographer — Dixie is my name, did I say? — and Maurice has been asked to get shots of everyone informally before we do the group photos.’

The word ‘shots’ was unfortunate. ‘Where is he?’

‘Maurice? Over there by the musicians.’

Maurice didn’t have the look of a killer. He was in a velvet jacket, frilly shirt and bow tie. Two professional-looking cameras were dangling from his neck.

‘He wants to take one of me?’

Dixie shook her head. ‘Solo shots are a no-no. They won’t look good in the album. We want to show the guests enjoying each other’s company. Why don’t you join these charming ladies to our left and I’ll call Maurice over to take a threesome.’ She spoke loudly enough for the charming ladies to look across and make an assessment of Diamond. They were wearing hats he recognised. They’d sat in the front pew with Irving during the service. The bride’s cousins.

‘I haven’t met them,’ he told Dixie.

‘That’s the whole point,’ she said. She wasn’t going to be denied. ‘It’s about circulating at this stage. Shall we get your glass topped up for the picture?’

He stood his ground, but Dixie waved to the charming ladies and they came over. ‘Did someone mention a threesome?’ one said. ‘We’re up for it, aren’t we, Angie?’

It must have been the champagne talking.

Dixie said, ‘I only meant a group photo.’

‘No problem,’ the bold one said. ‘Get the action on video if you like, as long as we get our cut of the profits.’

Diamond’s toes curled. He couldn’t escape from these two without making a scene.

‘I’m Ondine, and this is my cousin Angie.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t call me that,’ Angie said. ‘My name is Angela.’

‘Have it your way, then,’ Ondine said. ‘Call me what you want. I’ll answer to anything. We’re the bridesmaids’ mums, for our sins.’

‘I’m Peter,’ Diamond said, resigned to this, his eyes trying to do the impossible and watch the entire room at the same time. This situation, with people moving from group to group, could have been choreographed for a close-up killing. The gunman was armed with a pistol.

And probably a knife.

Dixie said, ‘If you lovely ladies stand either side of Peter it will make a sensational one for the album. Don’t move from this spot while I fetch Maurice.’

In their heels, they were taller than Diamond.

‘All that talk about a threesome and all she only wants is a wedding picture,’ Ondine said with a pretend pout. ‘Shame. But that doesn’t stop us from getting to know each other better. What do you say, Peter?’

He didn’t say anything. Neither did Angela.

‘By yourself, are you?’ Ondine asked, getting closer than he liked.

‘Today I am,’ he said.

‘Friend or family?’

‘Friend.’ He needed to switch the attention away from himself. ‘So your daughters were the bridesmaids. Charming, I thought. I suppose they’re at home and in bed now.’

‘If only,’ Angela said. She was definitely the more reserved of the pair, and when she did speak it was usually sharp-tongued. He wasn’t sure which cousin he found harder to take.

‘What time is it?’ Ondine said and checked. ‘Gone eight-thirty already. You’re right, Peter, they’d be at home if it weren’t for all that rain we had, they’d be off our hands and we could roam free. Lordy, they’re needed for the group photos. Got to have the bridesmaids in the picture.’

‘So where are they?’ As if he truly wanted to know. He took another long look around the room, but not for children in frilly dresses.

‘Round and about, driving someone bloody mad, I expect. You can’t expect kids of their age to stand still for long. They’re in a rare old state. I hope it doesn’t all end in tears.’

‘It will,’ Angela said.

Spoken with the certainty of one who knew. Quite a conversation-stopper because it seemed to convey much more than the fragile emotions of three small girls.

‘Let’s hope not, today of all days,’ Diamond said with yet another glance towards Irving. He hadn’t been eviscerated yet. ‘Where are you ladies from?’

‘Birmingham, in my case,’ Ondine said, ‘and Angie is from Broadstairs.’

‘Long journeys.’

‘Yes, we’re staying overnight at Uncle Joe’s. Posh house in Sion Hill Place.’

‘More of a tomb, if you ask me,’ Angela said.

‘Be fair,’ Ondine said. ‘He hasn’t lived there for yonks. All it needs is a woman’s touch to make it more homely.’

‘Unlikely.’

‘Don’t count on it. I think there may be a lady in his life.’

‘Really? Tell me more.’ For the first time, Angela showed some interest in what was going on.

‘Get away. Tell me more.’

Suddenly this was women’s talk that Diamond had no part in.

‘The one who called this afternoon when he was out.’

‘You didn’t tell me. Who was that?’

‘You were busy with the girls’ hair. No one else was bothering to answer the bloody doorbell, so I had to go.’

‘What was she like?’

‘Stropped off when she saw me, I can tell you. Freaked out, in fact.’

‘Why?’

‘I was in my silk dressing gown, wasn’t I?’

‘You never was?’ Angela started laughing.

‘Straight out the shower.’

‘Oh, Ondine! What did she say?’

‘She said sod all at first.’

How did I get trapped here? Diamond asked himself. Why am I listening to this stuff?

‘Then she asked if he was at home, called him Mr. Irving — Mister Irving, all very hoity-toity — treating me like I was some slapper off the streets.’

‘Fair comment.’

‘That’s unfair.’

‘Because of the way you were dressed, or undressed. What did you say to her?’

‘I told her he wasn’t at home and I could see she didn’t believe me. She must have thought he was upstairs buck naked and panicking in case I let her in. I said I’d tell him she’d called and I asked for her name, but she wouldn’t give it. She said something about’ — she mimicked the pretentious voice — ‘“coming back at a more convenient time” and then she was off.’

‘What age was she?’

‘Mid to late thirties.’

‘Young for Uncle Joe.’

‘Try telling him that. I wouldn’t dare.’

‘I expect she’s stalking him,’ Angela said. ‘Did you think of that? With all his money he’s quite a catch. He was expecting her to call and that’s why he went out all afternoon.’

‘I don’t think so. The truth is he needed a bloody break from a house full of females.’ Ondine turned to Diamond. ‘Girl talk. Best ignore it. We don’t often meet as a family. Are you married, Peter?’

‘Not anymore.’

‘Tough. It’s usually the woman who is left, for one reason or another, ain’t that the grim truth, Angela?’

Angela didn’t answer.

‘Here comes the guy with the camera,’ Ondine said. ‘Dishy. Do you think they’re an item?’

Angela shook her head. ‘If they are, he’s a cradle snatcher.’

‘Or she’s found her father figure.’

Diamond was near screaming point. He wasn’t remotely interested in what Dixie and Maurice got up to unless it was killing crime barons.

‘This won’t take a minute, people,’ Dixie told them. ‘Stand exactly where you are and show you’re enjoying yourselves. Didn’t you get your glass topped up, Peter? An empty one won’t look good.’

‘I’ll put it out of sight.’

‘No, no. You hold it up to the camera. That’s the whole idea. I’ll grab one off the tray for you.’

She was off again, leaving them facing the photographer, who didn’t have anything to say. He was peering into his viewfinder.

And something about Maurice was familiar. I’ve seen you before, my friend, Diamond decided. But where?

When Maurice made eye contact, there was a flicker of something that might have been recognition.

In a long police career you’re forever meeting people and assessing them as trustworthy or otherwise. Thousands, for sure, without all the others you come across in your personal life. Dark brown hair, eyes darker still, pale, long face that wasn’t used to smiling. Difficult to place.

‘How do you want us?’ Diamond asked Maurice to see if the voice gave a clue.

‘You’re fine as you are, my pet.’ But the response came from Dixie, back with a filled glass of champagne that she handed across. ‘Get in closer, ladies. Peter won’t bite.’

Don’t count on it, the way I feel.

The picture was taken, Dixie said it was gorgeous and the photographers moved on to corral someone else.

‘That was cool,’ Ondine said. ‘Maybe we’ll get lucky and share a table at the meal. And if we do, Angela is a dab hand at rearranging the place cards to make sure who she’s sitting next to.’

Angela gave her the point of her elbow and said, ‘Do you mind?’

The cousins tottered off.

There was barely time to dispose of the champagne before the best man invited everyone to move through to the Great Bath for the group photograph.

A new challenge.

It would be dark down there. Evening had closed in.

Mental image of all the guests lined up along the edge, in high spirits. One tips forward into the water and everyone cheers not knowing he is fatally wounded. Hilarity turns to horror.