Showstopper

8

Diamond was still in anguish next morning over Georgina’s bombshell, but he pumped himself up enough to inform Bath’s detective squad about the new regime. “I’ll be circulating a list of the many interesting courses headquarters are running and you can get your applications in. Go in with the right attitude and you can have a ball. Take it from me, every course attended will look good on your CV.”

They were bemused. This wasn’t the real Diamond talking. Whatever spin he put on it, it was obvious that he wasn’t happy and neither were the team. The mention of CVs was particularly unsettling.

Keith Halliwell had a strong suspicion what was really in play. “Is this Georgina closing us down?”

Diamond didn’t answer. He hadn’t told them the clincher. That was personal and still hurt like hell. “I did the firearms course myself a couple of years ago. I say it myself, I surprised them all.”

Mental picture of a trigger-happy superintendent loosing off shots at random and terrifying his instructors.

The team couldn’t even smile at that.

Halliwell spoke for almost everyone. “If we were Greater Manchester or London, breaking up the team wouldn’t be an option. This is a great place to work, but Bath is so bloody safe. We’re riding for a fall here. When the worst thing to happen is a missing rigger, we’re really up shit creek.”

“If the crime rate was higher, they’d say we were useless anyway,” Ingeborg said.

“Exactly. We can’t win. The way I see it, they can close us down and send us all to places that are undermanned.”

“Dealing with knife crime in Manchester,” Paul Gilbert said, shaking his head and sounding like an old man.

“Which is why I’ll be signing up for the cybercrime course,” John Leaman announced.

“We’ve already got a computer expert,” Halliwell said.

Jean Sharp blushed and said nothing.

Someone needed to lighten the mood and as usual it was Ingeborg. “You want to wise up on some field of crime that makes you indispensable,” she told Leaman.

“Such as?”

“Bee-rustling.”

Nobody else spoke.

“It’s one of the fastest-growing crimes. Bath is full of beekeepers.”

Leaman picked up the list of courses and studied it again. “I don’t see anything on bees.”

“Start it. You’re world-class at mugging up a topic. We’ve all seen how you turn yourself into an expert over a weekend. You can offer this brand new course to headquarters. Call it something catchy like Plan Bee. They’ll jump at it. You bring in a couple of beekeepers as guest lecturers. PowerPoint shows. An entomologist.”

“And some bees,” Halliwell said, starting to see where this was going. Leaman was easy prey for a wind-up.

“Field trips,” Ingeborg added. “A chance for everyone to dress up in the kit and use a smoke-gun.”

“And at the end they all take home a pot of honey,” Gilbert chimed in. “People will sign up for this in droves.”

Diamond hadn’t been listening. He’d been wondering how Paloma would react to having him padding around the house all day in carpet slippers looking for yesterday’s crossword puzzle. When she’d invited him to live with her it was on the understanding that they were both busy people who met in the evenings.

His sixth sense told him the team was on a distraction exercise. He needed to get a grip. He summoned up a grim smile. “Joke over. I’ve been told to hand in your applications before the end of the month and—”

A sound as unsocial as a fart interrupted him.

“Whose is it?” Ingeborg said. “Who didn’t switch off?”

Red-faced, Paul Gilbert felt in his pocket for his phone and looked at the display. “It’s the lab. I wasn’t expecting a call-back so soon. Do you mind, guv?”

Diamond shrugged and Gilbert moved to the back of the room with the phone to his ear.

“This bee-rustling,” Leaman said. “Is it on the statute book?”

He was definitely hooked.

“It comes under theft,” Halliwell said, “but you might get a law passed if you get some steam behind this.”

“Smoke,” Ingeborg said.

“Be serious,” Halliwell said. “It could be called Leaman’s law.”

Leaman’s eyes gleamed. He googled bee-rustling on his phone. “Forty thousand bees were stolen in one raid in Anglesey.”

“Didn’t I tell you?”

He was scrolling rapidly. “There are clubs all over this area: Bath, Bristol, Keynsham, Saltford, West Wiltshire.” He had to break off in mid-list.

Gilbert was back, looking as if he’d just met Hamlet’s father.

“Tell us,” Diamond said.

“They asked if we knew the rigger’s belt is heavily encrusted in blood.”

“Hell’s bells!”

“It was stained dark,” Gilbert said, wide-eyed, “and I thought that was dirt from plenty of use. They’re carrying out more tests and this is to let us know that it looks like a serious crime was committed, possibly murder. Someone was almost certainly bleeding profusely.”

“And that wasn’t Will Legat,” Ingeborg said. “He’s got questions to answer.”

“What time is it?” Gilbert said. “He’ll be in Bath by now.”

“Where?”

“North Parade Road. The law courts.”

“He wasn’t charged with anything, was he?”

“No, but they drove him there and released him.”

“We must pull him in again,” Diamond said. “He’s the prime suspect now, not just a witness. Your gentleman of the road may be no gentleman at all.” The head of CID was no longer in the doldrums. He was elated. This could be the saving of his career. “‘Heavily encrusted.’ That’s a lot of blood. They’re right, we could well be dealing with murder.”

“Shall we still apply for these courses, guv?” Halliwell asked.

“That’s on hold. First, we pick up Legat. You and I can take care of that. We’ll need to send his clothing and everything he owns to forensics to be tested for more blood. Did you say he had a knife hanging from the belt?”

“A jackknife.”

“Large?”

“Three to four inches.”

“Is it confiscated?”

Gilbert swallowed hard and blushed. “He was given it back to butter his toast. At first they gave him a plastic knife, but it broke.”

Diamond squeezed his eyes shut in disbelief. People make stupid mistakes, but the police were supposed to be trained to look out for trickery. “That knife has got to be tested by the lab. What age is he?”

“Forty-two, he told the custody sergeant. He’s got the grey beard, but he’s younger than he appears.”

“State of fitness? Strong enough to take on a rigger in a fight?”

“Probably.”

“Jean.”

DC Jean Sharp, the team’s online researcher, was so alert she spoke the words in Diamond’s mind before he could get them out. “A full check on Legat’s form, court appearances, prison terms, instances of violence.”

“Spot on,” he said. “Especially any links to the rigger. And, Paul?”

Gilbert, shamefaced, expected a roasting for having missed so much that was obvious. “Guv?”

“This belt. He’s supposed to have found it lying about at the airfield, is he?”

“In the mud where everyone parked.”

“It’s a heavy-duty thing, obviously. How does it fasten — a pin buckle?”

“No. A quick-release clip. You press the centre and it opens.”

“Easy to remove.”

“It would be, yes.”

“Might come off in a fight?”

“I see what you’re thinking, guv. Quite possibly.”

“Right. You’re the man who knows the airfield. It’s our probable crime scene. Get a CSI team up to Charmy Down.”

“Do you think the body’s up there?”

“We’ll find out. Let’s see how much Legat is willing to tell us.”

The change in mood was electric. Everyone was fired up again.

Two hours later, Legat had not been found and some of the enthusiasm had ebbed away. Diamond was with Halliwell in front of the Abbey. The two detectives had walked the length of Stall Street and seen nothing of their quarry. They’d radioed a description to all patrolling officers and PCSOs and got no response.

How does a six-foot-two grey-bearded tramp with a pram and an enormous dog manage to disappear in a city heaving with sightseers?

They’d phoned the custody sergeant at Keynsham and he’d confirmed that Legat had been driven to North Parade Road outside the court building and allowed to make his own way into town. They’d asked more people than they could remember. Nobody had been able to help.

“He told Paul he was here for the tourist season,” Halliwell said. “He turns up every year. Right here where we’re standing is where he ought to be. This is where the buskers make their money.”

“He doesn’t busk. He gets the dog to lie down looking pathetic and people arrive with tins of dog food. A lot of them give money as well.”

“He must spend it somewhere. We haven’t tried the supermarkets.”

“Good suggestion.”

The good suggestion came to nothing. All they found outside Waitrose were two saffron-robed Buddhist monks with their alms bowls. They had been there over an hour and seen nothing of Legat or his dog.

“He must have left town,” Diamond said.

Halliwell was doubtful. “He gave the impression he was here for weeks to come.”

“We’re not dealing with a truth-teller, Keith. He charmed young Gilbert into believing him, but that doesn’t fool me. He knows the belt was sent to forensics. If he also knows how it came to be covered in blood he’s not going to hang about, is he?”

“How would he get out of town?”

“From outside the courthouse, where he was last seen? The obvious way is north on the A36.”

“We put out that all-cars message. Someone would have picked him up by now.”

“He may have taken the canal towpath. No cars there.”

“He’d still be spotted. Plenty of people walk their dogs there. Someone would have noticed a monster the size of Caesar.”

“You depress me, but you’re right.”

“Can we scale this up into a full-scale manhunt?”

“Call out the plods?” Diamond shook his head. “Georgina will come down on me like a ton of bricks. We’re supposed to be back in Concorde House applying for courses. We have to soft-pedal, Keith.”

“I can’t think what else to suggest.”

“Where does a homeless man make for?”

“Julian House?”

It was worth a try. The charity for the homeless offered medical care, resettlement advice and free meals as well as beds in private pods. Legat evidently knew Bath, so he must have known about Julian House. But was he too proud to go there?

“We can ask if they’ve seen him.”

The police had once been near neighbours of Julian House, which was tucked away below the Baptist church.

Visiting Manvers Street again was a bittersweet experience for the two detectives. The nick they’d worked in for more than twenty years had been sold to the university, refurbished and converted into a study centre. The Virgil Building, as rebranded, had never been much to look at and there had been complaints about it as a workplace, but compared to Concorde House it was the Ritz. Diamond hadn’t said anything to the team, but he’d wondered at the time if he and his team would be sacrificial lambs.

“We’re keen to know if you’ve seen anything today of a fellow called Will Legat.”

The woman in reception at Julian House had been running her sympathetic eyes over their clothes, in particular Diamond’s creased suit, shiny in places. Were these two in need of support? At the mention of Legat, her face switched on like the Blackpool lights. “Will? Is he back?” She made him sound like the first swallow of summer.

“You know him, then?”

“Everyone here knows Will. He turns up every year around this time. He’s often in the day centre for a meal when he’s in town. Cheers us all up.”

But there was disappointment.

“Has he been in today?”

“Not today and not last night. He never uses the night shelter because he won’t be parted from his dog. Our bed spaces are too small, four foot by seven. Is he all right?”

Diamond couldn’t suppress a sigh of annoyance. “He’s fine, only we’d like to know where he is. Any idea where we might find him?”

“He’s not in trouble, I hope?”

All the sympathy for Legat was irksome. Everyone who met the man fell under some sort of spell. “He’s in a good state of health, if that’s what you’re asking, ma’am. We saw him yesterday.”

“In town?”

“En route.”

“So, he is back?”

“As of this morning, yes.”

“Where was he, then?”

“Charmy Down.”

“In that case, I know where he might be. The Together Project.”

It sounded like a dating agency. Legat looking for romance? Diamond couldn’t get his head around that.

“They’re wonderful,” the woman said. “They’re all registered vets who provide a free service for homeless people’s pets. They do it from the goodness of their hearts.”

Pets made more sense.

“They volunteer to give up several hours a week to make sure the animals, dogs mostly, get the treatment they need. The first thing Will does each year is take Caesar — that’s his dog — for his medication, the flea and worm treatment.”

Diamond nodded as if the flea and worm treatment was as familiar as getting out of bed in the morning.

“And of course the annual vaccination,” she added. “Personally, I wouldn’t go anywhere near Caesar with a needle and syringe.”

“Me neither.”

“You can tell how devoted Will must be, toiling up the hill with the pram and his backpack and all his bits and pieces and Caesar in tow, dragging on the lead. Animals know what’s in store, don’t they? I wouldn’t care to try it.”

“Which hill do you mean? Is that where these vets are?”

“Claverton Down. The cat and dog home. It’s a Together Project clinic.”

Diamond knew the place on the Avenue, past the university campus. Whichever route you took, it was a stiff climb.

“I’ll phone if you like and see if he’s been there,” the woman offered.

“No need. We’d prefer to surprise him.”

Halliwell did the driving in his shiny new Prius and it was all too obvious something was troubling him. “If we want to bring him in, we’ll need extra transport,” he made clear to Diamond. “I can’t possibly fit a man, a pram and that dog into my car.”

Diamond was quick to say, “Legat can have my seat. I wouldn’t wish to sit in a car with them.” He knew full well that they’d need to send for a van. He just enjoyed Halliwell’s appalled reaction.

Before reaching the cat and dog home, they were treated to the sight of Legat in a high-visibility jacket moving down Claverton Down Road at such a brisk rate behind the ancient pram that Caesar was trotting to keep up. “The Julian House lady knew what she was talking about,” Diamond said.

Halliwell pulled over and Caesar tugged on the rope and barked at the car.

“Phone for a van and tell transport division it’s a secret mission. They’re to keep this strictly to themselves.” He didn’t want Georgina finding out.

Halliwell wasted no time getting through.

Diamond lowered the window just enough to speak without being savaged. He had to shout. “Can’t you control him?”

“He’s just had his shot,” Legat shouted back. “He doesn’t trust anyone now, least of all me.”

He’s not the only one, Diamond thought. He had to bellow to be heard. “Where are you making for?”

“The centre of town.”

“We’d like to speak to you first. We’ll organise a van.”

“I can make my own way, thanks. It’s easier downhill than coming up. Calm down, old lad.”

Caesar made a leap for the window and spattered it with froth, trying to force his muzzle through.

“His paws are scratching my paintwork,” Halliwell said, as pained as if his own skin was being scarred.

“It’s his teeth that worry me. Look at the size of them.” They had to wait for Legat to get control of the dog and it wasn’t done quickly. When it was finally safe to lower the window a fraction more, Diamond made himself heard and insisted on a formal interview. The message wasn’t well received.

“We have other plans,” Legat said.

“I don’t want to be forced to arrest you.”

“Then don’t.”

Halliwell told Diamond the van was not far off.

Legat said, “Come, Caesar. We’re moving on.”

But Caesar didn’t wish to go without leaving his mark on these annoying policemen. He reared up again, claws scraping the window, and the barking began afresh. Minutes later, when the Transit van arrived, he switched his attack to that.

An incredibly brave or idiotically reckless driver got out the other side and unlocked the rear doors and Caesar, seeing what he took to be the guts of the thing, jumped inside. Legat, muttering protests, followed him in and the driver lifted the pram aboard and slammed the door.

The interrogation took place at Keynsham police station, the nearest with interviewing facilities and a custody suite. Caesar, by this time exhausted from his medication and all the excitement, wasn’t involved. He remained flat out in the van, snoring.

Before entering the interview room, Diamond called Concorde House and asked Jean Sharp for the results of her research into Legat. She sent her notes electronically and he had a copy printed. Minor misdemeanours right across the home counties and southwest, but no record of violence.

He told Halliwell to say nothing at the start about the blood found on the belt. “We’ll learn a lot from his face when he starts to worry how much we know.”

“I want my solicitor present,” Legat said before they’d sat down.

“This isn’t under caution, Will,” Diamond told him. “It’s only a chat, to get a few things straight.”

“I know my rights. I’m refusing to answer questions without legal representation.”

“We’d tell you if you were under arrest.”

“So it’s voluntary, is it? I can walk out of here just so that you can nick me and recite your little homily about not needing to say anything unless I want to get shot to pieces later in court. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“We know when you were born from the last time you were pulled in for questioning.” Diamond made a performance of studying the printout. In the short time she’d had, Jean Sharp had assembled enough facts to give some leverage if needed. “We want to ask you about something more recent, up at Charmy Down. How did you come to be there when the TV people were filming?”

“I told all this to the young constable. The airfield is one of my regular stops on my way down to Bath. Caesar and I limit our daily perambulation to no more than ten miles. I plan my sleeping places and the old control tower is one of them. It’s not the royal suite at the Savoy, but it rates pretty high in my book.” Legat was a windbag in love with his own voice. He’d already forgotten about not answering questions.

“But it was already occupied?”

“I saw the trucks and the crane and the enormous motorhome and it was obvious that my canine companion and I needed to find somewhere else to rest our weary heads. That first night we had to make do with a poxy pillbox on the edge of the airfield.”

“Wasn’t there anywhere else you could go?”

“There’s a lady in Combe Hay who lets me use her barn when I come by, a comfortable stop, but that was too far off. We’d done our walk for the day getting to the airfield, the hound and I, and we were footsore and weary.”

“Did you watch any of the filming?”

“I had better things to do.”

“Like what?”

“Foraging for food.”

“Out there on the airfield?”

“You’d be surprised. Nettles are an excellent source of nutrition. Fat hen, as well.”

“You found chickens up there?”

He rolled his eyes at such ignorance. “It’s a common weed, cooks up like spinach and is far more delicious. Also known as dirty dick.”

“You wouldn’t be having me on?”

“I’m not stupid, superintendent, and I doubt whether you are.”

“Were you foraging when you found the belt?”

“Aha, the belt. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Am I going to get it back?”

“You’ve got some nerve, considering it doesn’t belong to you. We noticed it’s a quick-release clip, simple to unfasten. Where was it?”

“In the vicinity.”

“The vicinity of what?”

“The control tower where they were filming. I almost tripped over the thing in the dark, obviously discarded where the vehicles had been parked. Everyone had gone by then and I was dog-tired and ready to turn in, so I left it where it was and inspected it again in the morning. I can put this to good use, I thought. Seems a shame to leave it here.”

“You say you almost tripped over it. Did you handle it?”

“When? In the morning?”

“The night before.”

Legat frowned, and yet managed to look more puzzled by the question than evasive. “Does it matter? I held it in my hands in the morning to fit my keys and things to the D-rings. If you’re looking for fingerprints, you’ll find mine all over it. Doesn’t make me a thief.”

“We’ll find out what it makes you,” Diamond said. “I’m asking about the moment you first came across the thing. You said it was dark at the time. You must have wondered what you’d found. You’re a scavenger.”

“Forager... please.”

“Did you stoop and make a close inspection?”

“I may have done.”

“When someone says to me ‘I may have done’ it’s obvious what they mean. You handled it. Was it damp to the touch?”

He didn’t contest the point. “The whole patch was damp. I just told you this was the parking area where the trucks had left ruts of mud. It rained most nights that week. If you go up there, you’ll see it’s a quagmire.” He seemed untroubled by the line of inquiry.

“Was anyone else about?”

“I told you. This was after they’d all left.”

“The reason I ask is that there’s evidence of a violent incident there. Think carefully, Will. If you were left alone, suspicion falls on you.”

“I can’t see why,” he said, keeping his cool. “A man on his own can’t do violence to anyone except himself.”

“Unless he’s the last man standing.”

He tilted his head ironically like a smart lawyer in court and smiled. “What’s your evidence for that? I didn’t see any casualties. Believe me, Caesar would have found them. He was off the leash all morning sniffing around the site.” He had answers to everything.

Diamond was forced into playing his strong card. “We heard from forensics. The belt was heavily bloodstained.”

“Really?” Legat did look surprised and quite serious, although whether this was from being found out was not obvious. “I didn’t notice any staining.”

“You didn’t get any on your hands?”

“I’m positive I didn’t.”

“The tests show the presence of human blood even if it wasn’t apparent to you. When fresh it will show up red on a dark leather belt, but it soon dries and turns brown. Someone who wore that belt was badly wounded, if not killed.”

“A troubling thought.” But he had already recovered his poise.

“It’s a rigger’s belt and a rigger called Jake Nicol has gone missing.”

“I know nothing about that.”

“Did you ever meet Jake Nicol?”

“The name is completely unknown to me.”

Diamond took out his phone and found the photo of Nicol.

Legat took one glance and shook his head. “A total stranger. And now I’ve answered your questions I’ll retrieve my dog and my property and get on my way.”

“If you’re as innocent as you make out, you won’t object to a simple DNA test.”

“Why is that necessary?”

“So that we can eliminate you from our enquiries. You said your prints are all over the belt. We may well find other people’s DNA and we’ll know who else to question.”

“Will this go on to the dossier you have in front of you?”

“We can destroy it once we’ve ended our investigation.”

“Can or will?”

“You have my word.”

Legat took time to decide whether Diamond’s word mattered more than a hill of beans. “Very well, you may run the test.” He gave a slow grin. “Consider it a gesture of good Will.”

“Thanks.”

“In return, I need a favour from you, superintendent. While you’re here, would you make a reservation for me and my dog for the custody cell we had last night?”

Later, Diamond explained to Halliwell why the questioning of Legat had stopped. They wouldn’t achieve anything until the belt and jackknife had been fully tested at the lab. “We’ll need to keep tabs on him. I don’t want another manhunt like we had today.”

“Now he knows about the custody suite, our problem will be keeping him away,” Halliwell said. “What did you think of his story, guv?”

“There’s more to come. Quite a bit more. He’s no fool.”