The Tooth Tattoo

15

‘The Staccati String Quartet.’

The team stared at their boss as if he’d forgotten to dress. Peter Diamond as a classical music buff was hard to swallow.

‘Come on. We already know the murdered woman, Mari Hitomi, was wild about music, and we’re not talking reggae and rap. This is the serious stuff that goes on in concert halls. Ever heard of the Nuns’ Chorus, DC Gilbert?’

‘Sorry, guv.’

‘This will be an education for some of you.’

John Leaman said, ‘The Nuns’ Chorus as a string quartet will be an education for us all.’

Diamond ignored the sarcasm. ‘One of Mari’s close friends called her a classical music groupie. I didn’t know such things existed, but apparently they do — young girls as devoted to nerdy guys in white tie and tails as most kids are to their pop idols. Mari had posters of this string quartet in her bedroom in Yokohama. And for the past two months the Staccati have been resident in Bath.’

‘Teaching and performing at the university,’ Ingeborg added.

‘I’m surprised you’re all looking so open-mouthed,’ Diamond said. ‘They’re world famous. This is the breakthrough, the reason the victim came here. Sergeant Smith will now give us her take on the quartet.’

Ingeborg unfurled a poster and pinned it to the board. ‘The Staccati have been performing all over the world for at least fifteen years and this could easily be one of the posters Mari had in her room. To be accurate, only three of these people are currently in the quartet. They changed their viola player recently. We’ll get a picture of the new guy soon.’

‘Are we treating professional musicians as murder suspects?’ John Leaman asked.

‘Because they can read music it doesn’t make them saints,’ Keith Halliwell said. The tension between these two never entirely went away.

‘Hold on,’ Diamond said. ‘All we can say for sure is that the string quartet looks like being the reason Mari came to Bath. She was a fan, so she must have known they were based here. Who killed her and why is another question.’

As if she hadn’t been interrupted, Ingeborg said, ‘I met the new viola player while I was doorstepping the colleges of music. He’s a Brit, thirtyish, friendly enough. We didn’t talk long, but he showed me where the quartet do their rehearsals out at the Michael Tippett Centre.’

‘Michael who?’ Halliwell said.

‘Only one of the greatest British composers of the twentieth century,’ Leaman said to the rest of the room.

‘He lived in Corsham and was a strong supporter of university music,’ Ingeborg said. ‘But I was telling you about the quartet. They teach a series of master classes and in return for a six-month residency give regular concerts.’

‘How regular?’ Diamond said.

‘Every two weeks.’

‘Not bad if you can get it,’ Gilbert said.

‘It’s not a cushy number,’ Ingeborg said. ‘There are hours and hours of rehearsing. They’ve got a reputation to keep up.’

‘Who are they?’

She tapped the poster. ‘The bald guy on the left is the first violinist, Ivan Bogdanov, a Ukrainian and one of the founder members. Lived in the west since he was a young man. Learned his music in the old Soviet Union and played with the Moscow Chamber Orchestra until he decided to defect.’

‘And the others?’

‘The second violin is Anthony Metcalf, from South Africa originally. There isn’t a lot on the internet about him, except he joined about seven years ago and fitted seamlessly into the quartet. A very gifted violinist apparently. Their website suggests he’s the quiet one. The guy to the right of him is Harry Cornell, the one they replaced, so we can forget him.’

‘When did he quit?’ Halliwell asked.

‘About four years ago, I gather,’ Ingeborg said. ‘He was their viola player. They tried a number of replacements, but none of them cut the mustard until Mel Farran came along this summer.’

‘The large woman with the cello?’

‘Cat Kinsella, said to be among the best in the world and with several recordings of cello concertos to her credit, but prefers ensemble playing to the life of a soloist. She’s the other original member of the quartet along with Bogdanov.’

‘Those are the players, then,’ Diamond summed up, wanting to move on. ‘A mix of talented people who make very good music. They’ve got a strong fan base, which is where Mari Hitomi comes in.’

‘You said they give concerts,’ Halliwell said. ‘Are we assuming Mari came to Bath to attend one of them?’

‘Good question,’ Ingeborg said. ‘These soirées, as they call them, are supposed to be for the university community. They’re held in big houses like Dyrham and Corsham Court, and the tickets are distributed among the staff, with some music students included as well. They’re not open to the public.’

‘So if Mari wanted to hear the quartet...?’

‘She’d need to be smart.’

‘How?’

‘Depends,’ Ingeborg said. ‘A groupie — if that’s what she really was — would find a way. If you were nuts on one of them you’d break any rules to get up close. Slipping through another entrance and posing as one of the music students. Nothing would stop you.’

‘Ever go through a phase like that?’ Leaman asked Ingeborg.

She gave him a glare that could have pinned him to the display board. ‘That’s got sod all to do with it.’

‘Just trying to understand the female psyche. You sounded as if you were speaking from experience.’

‘My only ambition at her age was to get into CID. Shows how misguided I was.’

‘And who was your idol? The guv’nor?’

‘John, get back in the knife box,’ Diamond said. ‘We’re doing a job here. We know Mari left London on September twentieth. We believe she took the train to Bath instead of Exeter. There may have been sightings of her. With her picture in the paper we ought to find out soon if she was here long, if she stayed anywhere. But we also need to know what the Staccati people were doing, where they lodge, how they spend their time off, the company they keep and so on.’

‘Whether one of their concerts coincided with Mari’s time here,’ Ingeborg said.

‘You think she gatecrashed a concert?’

‘Tricky. They’re not listed on the website, being private. But if she found out they were performing she could have gone to the venue and waited outside.’

Keith Halliwell said, ‘A random killing. Someone sees this young woman hanging around on a dark night.’

‘A sex attack?’ Gilbert said.

‘Who can say?’ Ingeborg said. ‘The pathologist couldn’t tell us. She ended up strangled and dumped in the river, that’s all we know for certain.’

‘All options are open,’ Diamond said. ‘Meanwhile, we work with what we know. She was a fan of the Staccati, but was it one of them in particular that she idolised?’

‘Not the old Ukrainian guy,’ Halliwell said.

‘Why not?’ Diamond said with a touch of injured pride. ‘There’s such a thing as a father figure.’

‘Sorry I spoke.’

‘And if any of you are thinking not the big cello lady, let’s remember girl on girl is not out of the question. Okay, to be realistic, the second violinist looks the part.’

‘Eye candy,’ Ingeborg said.

‘Ike who?’ Leaman said.

She ignored that. ‘And you’re right, guv. My mind was wandering. Anthony Metcalf is the good-looking one. Isn’t that what you’re saying?’

‘The pin-up boy.’

‘Don’t forget the guy who isn’t on the poster,’ Leaman said. ‘The viola player, Mel Farran.’

‘He’s new,’ Halliwell said. ‘Mari wouldn’t have known about him.’

Ingeborg was quick to correct him. ‘Not all that new. These things get written up in music magazines and on the internet. She may well have heard of him and seen his picture. He’s nice looking too.’

‘Before anyone makes anything of that, here’s the game plan,’ Diamond said. ‘What we’ve heard from Ingeborg is useful, but basic. Most of it comes from the Staccati website. It’s their publicity material. By the end of the day I want the inside story from the people themselves.’

‘As soon as that?’ Leaman said.

‘This afternoon.’

‘There’s more to discover, that’s for sure,’ Ingeborg said.

‘You’re all in on this. Get them talking about themselves. They’ll be used to that, so make sure it’s not just the standard spiel. Interrupt, question, challenge, get to the truth of how this quartet functions.’

‘I thought we were focusing on Mari,’ Leaman said.

‘You won’t get many answers out of her,’ Halliwell said, and got a few smiles.

‘John’s got a point,’ Diamond said. ‘We’ll ask if they had any dealings with Mari before she arrived here and if she approached them in the hours leading up to her death. But that could be a short interview. This is our chance to get to know these people. Be alert to everything they tell you, suspicious incidents, strange goings-on. What they’ve experienced could be the key to this investigation.’

‘So how do we handle this?’ Ingeborg asked.

‘It’s our team taking on their team,’ Diamond said. ‘Keith, you can tackle Ivan Bogdanov. John, yours is Anthony Metcalf. Ingeborg has already met Farran, so she can deal with him.’

‘Does that leave me with the cellist woman?’ Paul Gilbert asked.

Diamond was kind enough not to say so, but you only had to look at the poster to see that the youngest member of the squad would be eaten alive by Cat Kinsella. ‘I’ll take her on myself. You can do some research on the mysterious violist who quit.’

‘There’s also a manager,’ Ingeborg said. ‘He seems to work from an office in London.’

‘We’ll catch up with him later. What’s his name?’

‘Douglas Christmas.’

Diamond couldn’t let that pass. ‘I may have sat on his knee. A hoodie with a big white beard? Forget it. You lot are way behind me.’

Ingeborg had checked with the university music department and found that the Staccati would be in rehearsal at the Michael Tippett Centre the same afternoon.

‘Perfect,’ Diamond said.

‘They may not welcome it,’ she said. ‘They’ve got one of their soirées tomorrow night. This could be their last rehearsal.’

‘They can do overtime. We have to.’

‘Musicians can be temperamental,’

‘So can I. Haven’t you noticed?’ He gave the matter more thought. ‘Let them know we’re coming and it shouldn’t take long. A concert tomorrow night, you said? Where are they playing?’

‘Corsham Court.’

‘I’m thinking I should hear this lot.’

Ingeborg didn’t comment. She had an inkling of what he would say next.

As if he’d just thought of it, he said, ‘Care to come with me?’

‘Well...’ she started to say.

‘Good, I’ll need someone to stop me from clapping at the wrong point. I’d prefer you to John Leaman if you can make it.’

‘John knows far more about classical music.’

‘But you’re better company. Have you got a little black dress? This sounds like a smart occasion.’

Ingeborg didn’t pursue the matter of the little black dress. She thought she had another escape route. ‘I heard these concerts are hard to get into. There’s a long waiting list.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll get Georgina to pull some strings. She moves in high circles.’

‘Perhaps she’d like to partner you.’

‘Get outta here.’

The team descended on the Michael Tippett Centre early the same afternoon. They commandeered four practice rooms for interviews before any of the musicians showed up. As a result they were able to separate the quartet as they arrived. A united front might have been difficult to deal with.

Anthony Metcalf was the first. A glaze came over his eyes and he allowed himself to be escorted into a side room by Leaman. As a result, Ingeborg was able to inform Mel Farran when he showed up that interviewing was already under way.

She’d met Mel on her previous visit here. Knowing who she was, he should have been calm, if not relaxed. So it came as a surprise when he appeared startled and on the verge of panic, clutching his violin case to his chest as if Ingeborg was about to snatch it away.

‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘You’re not in any kind of trouble. We’re looking for help with an ongoing enquiry.’

Still twitchy, he allowed himself to be shown into the woodwind room.

Ivan Bogdanov was difficult in another way. ‘It’s out of the question,’ he told Halliwell. ‘We have a performance tomorrow and we need to practise.’

‘The sooner we get through, the more time you’ll have,’ Halliwell said.

‘And if I refuse?’

‘I arrest you and do it at the police station, ask to see your work permit and proof of identity, take your fingerprints and DNA.’

This put a swift end to Ivan’s protest.

Diamond was left to meet Cat Kinsella when she appeared, short of breath, grasping her cello. ‘Sorry, young man,’ she told him as he brandished his ID. ‘No autographs now. I’m late for rehearsal.’

He told her what he was there for. Shaking her head, she allowed him to escort her to the remaining practice room. Once she had rested her cello case against the wall and perched herself precariously on a stool behind a drum kit, Diamond drew up another stool and showed her a picture of Mari.

‘Ever seen this young woman before?’

She shook her head.

‘She’s a major fan. We think she came to Bath specially to see you.’

‘Not me, detective. One of the guys, possibly, but not me. I don’t have female fans, nor male, now I think about it. I’m past all that.’

‘The passions are on their side. You’d only find out if they threw themselves at you.’

She chuckled at that. ‘Get real. I’m a cellist. I don’t strut about the stage in skimpy underwear and sequins.’

‘But you won’t deny there are classical music groupies out there who follow the quartets?’

‘There may be a few crazies. Is that really what she was? She looks normal enough in the picture.’

‘She could have had a crush on one of you.’

‘You’d better find out from the men.’

‘We’re doing that right now. Have you ever performed in Yokohama?’

‘Never.’

‘Anywhere else in Japan?’

‘Tokyo a few times.’ Her face softened as she thought back. ‘There’s a place called Katsushika Symphony Hills. I remember it because of the Kat bit. Huge. Two halls, one seating over a thousand and the other three hundred. In my innocence I thought they’d booked the small hall for us. I was wrong. Every seat was taken in the thousand-seater, including one in the front row occupied by an urn containing the ashes of a man who’d booked to see us but died a few days before.’

‘That said a lot.’

‘Actually, no. Not a damn word.’

He smiled. ‘So if Mari had come to see you, she’d have had to travel to Tokyo. That’s not a vast distance from Yokohama.’

‘I’ll take your word for that. Geography passed me by when I was in school. Let me tell you something about quartet playing. You have the score on a stand in front of you with a little light over it. If you look up and you can see anything at all above the light, it’s rows of identical heads looking faintly like the beads on an abacus. You don’t recognise people.’

‘Thanks for explaining,’ Diamond said, genuinely pleased she was speaking more freely than she had at the start. ‘Let’s talk about the quartet. You were one of the founders, right?’

‘With Ivan, yes. Back in the last century, that was, when I was young and easy, as the poet said. To be truthful, I wasn’t easy, I was bloody difficult. Always have been. I’m surprised Ivan ever asked me to join, but the time was right and I jumped at the chance.’

‘You were a soloist before?’

‘Going right back, I was one of those child monsters, an infant prodigy. We’re Liverpool Irish, the Kinsellas, and my dad played the fiddle around the pubs. My mum was red-hot on the squeezebox. They got me started early and pushed me hard. Recorder, flute, piano, violin. I can knock out a tune on almost anything. Don’t ask me why, but I was drawn to the cello. There are all kinds of Freudian theories I draw the line at discussing in polite company, or police company, come to that. I started to play when I was nine and must have looked ridiculous wrestling with it. You need to be an athlete. It’s easy for a cellist to get musclebound. But I adored it — the sound, the sweet, rich voice was all that I wanted. So at a young age I got through the drudgery of mastering the thing and won a scholarship to music school in Manchester. You must have heard of Chetham’s.’

Diamond tried to look as if he had.

Cat was into her story anyway. ‘They worked wonders with me and put me in for Young Musician of the Year. Didn’t win, but made the final and got noticed. I must tell you — and you won’t believe this — in those days I was thin enough to slot into a toaster. Long, blonde hair that I wore in a pigtail. Anyway I learned the repertoire and at fourteen had the cheek to play the Dvorák with a youth orchestra and overnight I was touted as the next Jacqueline du Pré. They wanted me to loosen my hair and record the Elgar looking all frail and angelic. That’s what she made her debut with and is mainly remembered for, but of course she could play anything. She was the real deal. Did you see the movie?’

‘Somehow it passed me by,’ Diamond said.

‘Far better to watch some footage of Jackie herself. There’s a lovely video of her with Barbirolli. And to think that they wanted me to ape her just to get famous. Catriona Kinsella, aged fourteen and a half, dug her heels in and said she wanted to be herself. Sucks to the Elgar and sucks to wearing a long white dress. It was a teenage rebellion in a music context. Everyone, my parents, the school, the marketing people, bore down on me and said I was flushing a brilliant career down the toilet. The battle went on for almost a year. I started eating, seriously stuffing myself with chocolate, fried foods, pastry, the lot. In a matter of weeks it started showing and in a year I was the lump of lard I am today.’

‘Your way of taking control of your life?’

She raised her right thumb. ‘Tell that to Weightwatchers. I shaved my head as well in case anyone missed the point. I continued to play, of course. The joy has never gone away. I’ve played as a soloist with some of the great orchestras. Vivaldi wrote twenty-seven concertos and I’ve learned almost all of them. What I absolutely refused to do was put myself in the clutches of the popular classical music merchants. If you follow music at all you’ll know the process. They take second-rate artists with pretty faces, groom them, call them the voice or the player of the century and turn them into stars, whether they’re singers, violinists, pianists. The quality of the sound is crap, they’re off-key, and the great gullible public doesn’t seem to notice. I could find you literally hundreds of finer voices and better players completely overlooked.’ She stopped and shook her head. ‘I’ve lost my thread, haven’t I? This is one of my pet beefs.’

‘You saw off the vultures.’

A broad smile. ‘That sums it up. I might have made millions, but as a musician I’d have been dead meat. When all is said and done, you keep your musical integrity. These second-rate performers know they cashed theirs in. So I scraped away in an orchestra making real music and no money. Gave lessons, did some work on film scores and TV commercials. That’s allowed in my scheme of things. I wasn’t cheating anyone. This went on for a few years until I met Ivan and he told me he was thinking of forming a string quartet. Ask any string player and they’ll tell you that’s their dream, to play in a high quality quartet.’

‘How did you meet him?’

‘Ivan? In the Liverpool Philharmonic. I was temping for a month, but he was the leader. Very solemn, very earnest. I didn’t think we’d get along at all, and I was gobsmacked to be asked, but desperate enough to give it a try. Ivan is all right, a bit pompous, only it’s not self-conceit. That would be death to any ensemble. He respects the music and his tone quality harmonised with mine from the beginning. That’s as vital as technical ability.’

‘I expect if he gets too serious you know how to bring him down to earth?’

‘I do my best. He doesn’t lack emotion. You hear that in his playing. He just finds it difficult to express his feelings in everyday life. We were talking about Japan just now. Ivan used to visit the geisha houses and I always thought that was a perfect arrangement for him, very proper, with clear rules, just like the chess he plays. He’d be waited on and entertained by these gorgeous young women. No hanky-panky at all. Hints of it all around, but the rituals forbid it. He felt secure. He doesn’t like surprises.’

‘How does he deal with all the success?’

‘Of the quartet? He doesn’t let it go to his head.’

‘The groupies?’

‘You’re on about them again? Listen, Ivan’s not a young man. If he was in danger of making a fool of himself, which isn’t likely, I’d tell him. I keep my boys in order.’

Diamond believed her. He was getting a useful insight into how the group functioned. ‘Getting back to the time when the quartet was formed, how did you find the others?’

‘We needed a second violin and a violist. Ivan knew of a Ukrainian called Yuriy and I remembered Harry from a summer school I did at Dartington. Two totally different personalities. Yuriy was a bear of a man. You’d expect him to have been a percussionist, but he was a red-hot fiddle player. I think there was gipsy blood in him. He’d launch into gipsy music in the middle of a rehearsal discussion just for a laugh, or to take the heat out of an argument, and it always worked. He was great company and a good influence on Ivan, but he did over-indulge with the vodka. I think he got lonely. He had a wife back in the Ukraine and they’d separated on some understanding that they’d stay in touch. Eventually he went back to her. Happy ending for her — I think — and not so happy for us.’

‘And Harry?’

She sighed and shook her head slowly. ‘Poor, benighted Harry. He was my recommendation, so I still feel responsible. A gifted violist, no question. He adored the instrument and talked it up at every opportunity, which made him an easy target for viola jokes, of which there are many. He was with us a long time, but I never felt I got to know him as well as I wished. On tour, he’d clear off and not say a word about where he was going. We all did our own thing. I hit the shops, Yuriy the bars and Ivan the local chess club.’

‘Or the geisha house.’

‘When possible. You don’t find many of those on the average tour.’

‘So where do you think Harry went?’ he prompted her.

‘None of us knew and he didn’t encourage us to ask. He’d be back for rehearsals and play divinely, so we had no reason to complain until the day he didn’t show up.’

‘Don’t you have any theories?’

‘Got into bad company, I suppose, but whether it was of his making or theirs, I don’t know. We were in Budapest at the time. He must have had his viola with him, because it wasn’t found at the hotel. It was a Maggini worth probably two hundred thousand pounds, and it didn’t belong to him. He had it on extended loan from some rich patron. This happens. We poor beggars can’t afford instruments of that quality and the owners buy them as investments and want them played. Harry vanished and we found some dreadful stand-in from a local orchestra. We sounded like four cats stranded in the Battersea Dogs’ Home. For months after that we were a lost cause. Couldn’t fulfil our bookings. We didn’t know if Harry would suddenly reappear. It would have been easier if he’d just put a gun to his head. At least we could have looked for a replacement.’

‘In the end, that’s what you did.’

She pulled a face. ‘With mixed results. A series of violists who weren’t up to it musically. There’s a treacly, sentimental tone — a lingering in the action of the slide — that is death to any quartet. We heard it from the first guy and told him in the nicest way to look for another job. The next stand-in was a woman whose fingering was sloppy. She couldn’t sustain the vibrato and it ruined our tone quality. I think she didn’t have the expressive feeling within herself. When we asked her to make the sound continuous it was worse, forced and insincere. God knows, we tried and she did, too, but it was obvious it would never work. She knew it. She walked.’

‘Was that when you found Mr. Farran?’

‘Mel? After a much longer gap. We’d just about broken up. Anthony — he’s our second violin and a whole different story — became so impossible that Doug found him a job with the Hallé. The Staccati was a forgotten group. Quartets are breaking up all the time and everyone in the music world assumed we were finished, but dear old Ivan wouldn’t accept it. He’s a brilliant player and he could find work anywhere and yet he loves quartet playing and he wouldn’t accept that we were through. He used all his contacts to look for a truly gifted player and Mel’s name kept coming up. Luckily for us he wasn’t committed to any orchestra so we pounced. Good result, too. He’s fitted in well.’

‘Better than Harry?’

She hesitated. ‘It’s early days. Harry knew the rest of us and our quirky ways so well. He was a lovely guy and I miss him. The day he disappeared I toured the streets of Budapest looking for him. I still would if there was any realistic hope. But Mel is shaping up nicely.’

‘This has been helpful,’ Diamond said. ‘A real insight into the quartet. The one you haven’t said much about is Anthony.’

‘Special case,’ she said.

‘In what way?’

She shook with laughter. ‘You name it. I’ll say this. Anthony is a terrific violinist. Technically he has the edge on Ivan, but I wouldn’t want either of them to know I said that. He could make it as a virtuoso if his head was right.’

Diamond leaned forward and almost fell off the stool. ‘What’s wrong with it?’

‘Not exactly wrong, just out of balance. He sees the world in a different way from the rest of us. Very focused. His power of concentration is amazing. But he has no sense of humour and he makes no allowance for the feelings and opinions of anyone else. Music is all-important to him. His work-rate is phenomenal. He’ll master a new score sooner than any of us. It used to worry me that he had no life outside the quartet. Over the years I’ve come to accept that he found his goal in music and he wants nothing else. Any change of arrangements can throw him. That’s why Harry going was a major crisis. I seriously feared Anthony would kill himself if we didn’t get playing again. It’s that essential to him.’

‘A personality disorder?’

‘I would say so. Have you heard of Asperger’s?’

‘I don’t know a lot about it.’

‘It’s a form of autism, but the people who get it can still function at a high level.’

‘Is that what he’s got?’

‘It’s in that area. They call it the autism spectrum, apparently.’

‘How did you recruit him?’

‘We needed a second violin to replace Yuriy.’

‘Who returned to his wife in the Ukraine?’

‘Yes. And almost at once Anthony appeared and asked for an audition. News travels fast in our little world and he’d got word that Yuriy had quit. I’m not even sure Yuriy had actually left. It was obvious at once that this earnest young man was twice the player Yuriy had been. He told us frankly that he’d pulled out of three string quartets and a trio in two years because they weren’t up to standard and we looked at each other and wondered if we would make the grade. He was so damn good that we decided to give it a whirl. In the first weeks he was with us it felt as if we were on trial, not Anthony.’

‘Did you go on tour with him?’

She laughed. ‘It was a hoot. In many ways he’s like a baby. The basic things in life pass him by. He forgets to shower, to eat breakfast, to carry money. He can’t be relied on to pack. You tell him and he’ll do it. Next time you have to tell him all over again. Between us, we cope with him and get a few laughs along the way. Anything you say, he takes as gospel truth so we have to be careful not to speak ironically. Once at rehearsal I had a noisy chair — a regular hazard for cellists — and I said in jest that I’d had baked beans for lunch. “No you didn’t,” Anthony says. “You had an egg and mayo sandwich. I saw you.” Fortunately he’s right up with the music, and that’s what counts.’

‘How is he with the audiences?’ Diamond asked.

‘I don’t think he’s aware of them. He’s immersed in the music.’

‘You meet some of them afterwards, no doubt?’

She pointed at Diamond. ‘Hey, this is the groupie question in another guise. You’re a sly one.’

‘Better answer it, then, in case I turn nasty.’

‘The leeches get nowhere with our Anthony.’

‘They’re going to try. He’s good-looking.’

‘We know that, but he doesn’t. He has no self-image. If they just want an autograph he’ll sometimes oblige even if he can’t fathom why it’s required. If they ask a musical question such as the most common one — “Is your violin a Strad?” — he’ll answer. But if they were to ask what he’s doing after the concert he’ll tell them he’s going back to the hotel for a room-service meal and a sleep, which is true. End of conversation. He’s got a way of dismissing them with a look.’

‘So you don’t think it’s possible he could end up spending the evening with a woman through some misunderstanding of the sort you mentioned?’

‘She’d need to be very devious. And she’d need to understand how his strange logic works.’

‘And if he felt he’d been tricked?’

Cat shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I don’t even like to think about it.’

‘Doesn’t he like women?’

‘He isn’t capable of liking anyone, male or female. If you’re asking me about his love life, there isn’t any. He goes to sex workers when he gets randy. Paying for it suits his mentality. No relationship, no affection. And he feels no shame. He’ll tell us straight he was with a whore next time we meet. I expect he’d say exactly what happened if we asked. He can be very candid.’

‘Yet you say he’s a brilliant violinist. Isn’t it all about expressing emotion through the way you play?’

‘Right on. And communicating emotion to your audience. He succeeds and that’s the biggest mystery to me. It’s almost as if he comes alive through the instrument. Pathos, tenderness, humour, even love. Where it comes from I can’t tell you. His soul, I suppose, finding an outlet that doesn’t exist in the locked-up person he is.’

This was getting into areas outside Diamond’s competence. ‘The only person I haven’t asked you about is your manager.’

‘Doug? He’s normal enough and that’s a good thing. He looks after the business side, makes sure we earn enough to survive. All the gigs and recording sessions are down to him. He tells us when and where and we decide what. The musical decisions are ours.’

‘So was it his decision to bring you to Bath?’

‘We wanted a residency, a chance for the new combination to gel. Being in one place is so much better than touring when you’re adjusting to a new member. From what I recall, Doug got on the phone and found out quickly that Bath Spa University were looking for some kind of professional ensemble to teach and play. We agreed the same afternoon.’

‘How is it working out?’

‘Wonderfully, apart from you lot giving us the third degree.’

‘I wouldn’t call it that,’ Diamond said.

‘You’re not on the receiving end.’

‘These concerts you give. They’re small by your standards, aren’t they?

‘Intimate. They’re lovely. That’s how quartets were played originally, for small, invited audiences in gracious surroundings.’

‘I’m hoping to attend your next one.’

‘Really? You don’t strike me as a string quartet aficionado.’

He smiled. ‘I don’t claim to be that.’

‘I hope you don’t suffer, then.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Is the grilling over now?’

‘Not yet,’ Diamond said. ‘You said there are lots of viola jokes. I can’t think of one.’

She tilted her head back. ‘If I tell you one, am I released without charge?’

‘Only if it’s a good one.’

‘All right. This man walked into a bank carrying a viola case. Why did everyone get nervous?’

‘They thought it was a machine gun?’

‘No. They thought it was a viola and he might take it out and play it.’