Peter Lovesey - Upon A Dark Night

Before the trio were out of the door, Diamond said, ‘Morning, John. I’m told you’ve got three suicides now.’

Wigfull sat up even taller and grasped the edge of his desk. His moustache, less perky these days, was into a Mexican phase that hid most of his mouth. ‘I’m assuming nothing.’

‘So I heard.’

‘Then shall we get our terminology straight?’

‘Before we do,’ said Diamond. ‘I’m quoting the ACC. He asked me to take over one of these…suicides.’

‘Oh.’

‘If it’s all the same to you, I was thinking about the fellow found in the garage.’

‘Chou.’

The Mexican phase was confirmed. ‘Ciao ? ‘

‘Yes, Chou,’ said Wigfull. ‘From Singapore. A final-year student of engineering. Found last night. He left a note. Very organised. If it’s all the same to you, I’d value your help more on the case at the Royal Crescent.’

Diamond played the phrase over in his mind. ‘Value your help’ was Wigfull at his most diplomatic. And the organised engineering student did sound dull, even though he was less messy. ‘What’s the story, then?’

‘This was also last night. We don’t know her name yet. The start of it was when two couples won the lottery. When I say “won”, they had four numbers up. They watched the draw in the Grapes in Westgate Street – that pub that’s always full of music and young people – and of course there were celebrations and soon it transferred to the Crescent, where they live.’

‘Four numbers isn’t the jackpot,’ said Diamond.

‘Any excuse, isn’t it? The word went round the pubs that some lucky blighter had won and was giving a party, and in no time half young Bath was making a beeline for the house. It was out of control. People who didn’t know the tenants were letting in other people. There wasn’t much drink, but there was music. At ten-thirty or thereabouts, one of the neighbours complained about the noise. Two of our lads went in and tried to find the tenants. They got the volume turned down a bit and left. By this time, the discos in town were open and quite a few were leaving. We thought the problem was over. Around seven-thirty this morning we had a call to say a woman was lying dead in the basement yard, apparently from a fall.’

‘That’s certain, is it?’

‘The fall? The injuries bear it out.’

Diamond said as if to a child, ‘What I mean, John, is was it a fall or did she jump?’

‘How would I know?’ Wigfull said with irritation. ‘That’s what we’ve got to find out. All we know is that at some point after eleven – eleven the previous evening, I mean – a couple who were leaving heard a sound, looked up and spotted a figure on the roof.’

‘The roof?’

‘You know the Crescent, Peter. It’s three storeys high with a balustrade at the level of the roof. You reach it from the attic windows. The witnesses saw her sitting on the balustrade with her legs dangling.’

‘In the dark?’

‘There’s a street lamp right outside.’

‘What did they do about it? Bugger all?’

‘No. They showed some responsibility. Went back to tell someone, and by degrees the message got to the tenants, who went to look, they think about eleven-thirty. There was no sign of her there. The attic window was still open, but they assumed she’d gone inside the house again.’

‘No one checked downstairs?’

‘The body wasn’t found until this morning.’

‘Who by?’

‘A paper-boy on his round. What happened was that the woman fell into the well of the basement – the coalhole, as it would have been originally – in shadow and out of sight of people leaving the party unless they had some reason to look over the railings. She must have died instantly. The skull was badly impacted. It was a fall of sixty feet or so.’

The injuries were all too easy to imagine in full colour.

‘Where’s the body now?’

‘At the Royal United. We had the police surgeon on the scene quite fast. If you’d like to go up to the Crescent now, you can still see where the head met the flagstones.’

Diamond backpedalled. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to take on the Chinese student instead? This one could run and run. Did she fall, did she jump or was she pushed?’

‘I don’t think there’s any question of pushing,’ said Wigfull, with a sudden twitch of the eyebrows.

‘I thought your line was that these are unexplained deaths.’

‘Well, yes.’

‘Got to keep an open mind, then.’ Artfully, knowing how Wigfull’s mind worked, he said, ‘We can’t rule out murder.’ After a pause to let that sink in, he enquired, ‘Wouldn’t you prefer to deal with this yourself, John?’

‘Sorry. I’m committed to the farmer. Those lads I sent out…’

‘They looked half-baked to me.’

‘They are. That’s why I’ve got to take a personal interest.’

For once, Diamond had been outflanked by Wigfull.

An unexplained death may be a misfortune, but it may also be someone else’s opportunity. This was the first solid job in months for Diamond, even if it was not his first choice. Generously he opted to share it with Julie Hargreaves. He phoned her at home and asked if she would sacrifice whatever she was doing for a crack at an unexplained death. she said she was cooking the Sunday roast, but if this was action stations, she would have to ask Charlie to take over. In that case, Diamond said, hand the apron to Charlie and he would expect her in the next half-hour.

Every tourist worthy of the name makes a pilgrimage north-west of the city to see the Royal Crescent. Without question John Wood the younger’s spectacular terrace with its hundred and fourteen columns was the crowning achievement of Georgian architecture, but oddly, Diamond’s work rarely took him past the place. So this morning the sweep of the great curved monolith outlined against a powder blue sky above the lawns of Royal Victoria Park still made him catch his breath. Or so he convinced himself, unwilling to accept that the bumping from the cobbled roadway may have winded him.

‘Take it easy, Julie. Nobody’s expecting us.’

The house where last night’s party had been was towards the Crescent’s west end.

Police tape had been used to cordon off an area in front. On emerging from the car, Diamond and Julie were approached by an official-looking man with a clipboard.

Diamond took him to be one of the scene of the crime team – until he spoke in an accent that would have made a Viceroy feel inferior.

‘I say, you there.’

Sensing trouble, Diamond did his deaf act.

‘Yes, you in the trilby hat. Are you connected with the police?’

He sighed and turned round. ‘We are.’

‘Then be so good as to tell me, will you, when you propose to remove these unsightly tapes and restore the place to normal? I’ve been here with my crew and some very distinguished actors since eight this morning and we haven’t shot a single frame of film.’

‘You’re filming the Crescent?’

‘I ought to be. It’s Sunday morning. The light is perfect. We went to no end of trouble and expense arranging for all the residents to park elsewhere – and here we are, faced with one house sectioned off with ghastly black and yellow tape, not to mention two police vans and now another eyesore in the shape of your car.’

Diamond turned his head to take in the full majestic panorama of the building. ‘Can’t you point your camera at the other end?’

‘My dear sir, the camera is over there by the trees. The whole object is to capture the entire frontage in one establishing shot.’

‘What’s the film?’

‘ The Pickwick Papers .’

‘So is the Crescent mentioned in The Pickwick Papers ?’