The Summons

Chapter Thirteen

He kept Julie in suspense all the way back to Manvers Street. She was ninety-nine percent sure he wasn’t serious about transforming her into a crusty, but that one percent was amusing to work on. She might pass muster wearing a dread-lock wig, he suggested, and if the CID’s wardrobe didn’t run to combat trousers she could get away with black leggings with plenty of holes. He was sure that the RSPCA could supply her with a vicious-looking pooch; she definitely needed a dog. He strolled on stolidly, embroidering the tease all the way. But behind the poker face his mood was improving and it wasn’t that beer in the Roman Bar that had made the difference.

Julie wasn’t spared until they reached the nick. They were crossing the reception hall when Diamond spotted something behind the protective glass at the public enquiry point.

“I don’t believe this.” But he still marched over for a closer inspection.

Another of the woolen bees was positioned just behind the glass, goggling at him with its ridiculous eyes.

He rapped on the glass until the constable on duty came over.

“Who left this here?”

“What’s that, Mr. Diamond?”

“This bee.”

“That’s a bumblebee, sir.”

“I don’t care what it is. Who is responsible for it?”

The constable frowned.

Diamond had turned flamingo pink. “Whose idea of a joke is it? That’s all I’m asking.”

“It’s no joke, sir.”

“You’re telling me, laddie. When I find the perpetrator he won’t be laughing.”

There was a pause before the constable summoned the confidence to say, “Didn’t you get a bee of your own, Mr. Diamond?”

This polite enquiry went unanswered.

“Everyone should have got one this morning. It’s Operation Bumblebee.”

Diamond’s eyes resembled two dashes in a line of Morse code. Behind him, Julie Hargreaves lowered her face and squeezed her arms across her stomach in a desperate attempt to remain serious.

“You can have this bumblebee if you like, sir,” the hapless duty constable added to his list of offenses. “We’ve got a box of them back here. The poster comes with it.”

Something had to be done, and fast.

Without trusting herself to speak, Julie touched Diamond on the arm and drew his attention to a large poster that dominated the cluster of notices to his right. There was a cartoon figure of a bee in a police helmet and boots. The wording ran: SUPER BEE SAYS TO BEAT