The Secret Hangman

33

A thought nagged at him while he drove to Paloma’s. Ten minutes ago it had seemed obvious to get in touch. Her son Jerry was in the personal-training business, so here was a reason to seek help from friends. The closer he got, the less appealing it seemed. You don’t let your work impinge on your private life. How embarrassing if Jocelyn Steel’s Man Friday was none other than Jerry. Even worse if the training turned out to have been more intimate than personal.

Too much of a coincidence? He hoped so. There had to be other personal trainers in the city. Maybe Man Friday wasn’t a fitness expert at all. Please God, he gave piano lessons, or did tarot readings.

‘You did the right thing, letting me know you were coming,’ Paloma said when she opened the door. She’d put on make-up and what looked to him like a party dress.

‘It’s a business call.’

‘Yes, buttercup, you made that clear, but I can make myself presentable for a business call, the same as a social one.’

‘And you have. You look terrific.’

‘You can give me a business-like kiss if you want.’

‘Is there such a thing?’ He stepped into the hall and held her and their lips pressed and every other thought was blocked out.

But Paloma reminded him why he was here. ‘You want some help from Jerry, you said. I called him and he’s on his way over. A drink while you wait?’

‘Better not.’

‘It’s not about that poor woman who was found in the park, is it? I saw her face on the television.’

‘Afraid so,’ he said, and told her about the exercise room in Jocelyn Steel’s house and his theory that she had a trainer. ‘I’m clutching at straws here, but Jerry knows more about this kind of thing than I do. He may have a few ideas I can follow up.’

‘I’m sure he’ll give any advice he can. It’s a horrible case, by the sound of it.’

‘They’re all horrible for someone.’

‘Doesn’t one as bad as this give you nightmares?’

‘Once in a while, but I’ve been doing it a long time. What keeps me awake is trying to work out where I’ve gone wrong. In this one there’s a vicious twist. The husband is going to be killed unless I find the psycho who’s got him.’

‘That’s awful pressure, Peter. I know I couldn’t handle it.’

‘You treat it as what it is — a job. Think too much and you’re stuffed.’

Jerry let himself in, called out to them from the hall and finally put his head round the door. ‘You need a receptionist, Mum.’

He was in a silver tracksuit today. A useful lead-in. Diamond asked if the colour went with his new motor.

‘The car’s not mine, unfortunately,’ Jerry said. ‘It’s rented. And it’s black.’

One awkward suspicion removed. ‘Good of you to come.’

‘You want to pick my brains, Mum said. Not sure I have any, but you’re welcome to try.’

Diamond gave him some background. Jerry hadn’t heard about the latest murder. He wasn’t the sort to listen to his car radio. He’d have Coldplay going at top volume.

‘It’s only an idea,’ Diamond said, ‘but she had a regular visitor — a young man — and I thought he might be a personal trainer. It struck me that you’re likely to know of any others who do the job locally.’

‘I wouldn’t say I know them all.’ Jerry thought a moment. ‘Three spring to mind.’ He stopped as if he regretted saying so much. ‘I wouldn’t want you to knock on their doors and say I sent you.’

‘That’s not in the plan. Three, you say.’

‘What you can do is look on the noticeboard in any gym. That’s how we get our clients.’

Paloma said, ‘Peter doesn’t have time for that. A man’s life is in danger.’

‘From a trainer?’

‘I didn’t say that,’ Diamond said. ‘I’m hoping to find a witness.’

‘OK.’ With reluctance, he said, ‘Wayne McRae, Kev Cummings and Harry Lang are the local guys. I don’t have their addresses.’

‘No problem.’

‘Wayne lives in the city. The other two may be from outside.’

‘Fine. Would you know what they drive?’

‘I’ve seen Wayne in a green Honda Civic. Couldn’t tell you about the others.’

‘How would they have got into this line of work? I don’t suppose everyone goes through college like you did.’

He reddened. ‘You’ve been checking up on me?’

Paloma said, ‘Jerry, of course he hasn’t. I told him. I’m proud of you. I bet these others aren’t so well qualified.’

‘Who knows? Anyone can set up as a trainer. You can hang around fitness centres chatting people up. There’s a back-door route into most jobs. It’s how good you are that matters.’

Diamond asked, ‘Do most of your clients have weight-lifting equipment in their homes?’

‘Depends. Some of the rich ones do.’

‘This wouldn’t be so unusual then: a rowing machine, treadmill and a machine for strengthening — what do you call them? — the abs?’

‘Abdominal muscles. If you’ve got a big place and money to spend, why not? I know of four or five people with their own gear.’

Diamond hesitated. ‘This is, em, difficult. Close your ears, Paloma. The clients tend to be rich women, conscious of their figures, right?’

‘Some of them.’

‘The trainers are young, fit guys like yourself?’

Jerry smiled, folded his arms and nodded. ‘You’re asking if it leads to anything? The first thing everyone wants to know.’

‘It’s not a personal question. I’m interested in these other guys. Does any of them have a reputation?’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ he said, chuckling at the notion. ‘I don’t even talk about stuff like that.’

He’d resisted the chance to dish the dirt on the others and Diamond respected him for that, even though it could have aided the investigation. McRae, Cummings and Lang would be traced and checked as a priority.

There wasn’t any more to be got from Jerry. The names were useful. He shrugged and left the room when Diamond thanked him.

Paloma reached for Diamond and hugged him. ‘I know you’ll stop this killer. I’m confident you will.’

‘The thing is, can I stop him in time?’

She whispered, ‘Be careful. I want you safe. You wouldn’t believe how much I want you.’

He had to loosen her grip to get away. He drove back to Manvers Street thinking he was in a pig of a job.