Peter Lovesey - The Vault

Diamond gave a nod. Why take out his frustration on young Leaman? He would have it out with Wigfull later. "Keep me informed."

He returned upstairs to see if Halliwell had made any more progress. He had not. The two builders he'd managed to reach on the phone had no memory of a pair of casual labourers known as Banger and Mash. It was evident in Halliwell's voice that he felt this was leading nowhere. The quest wasn't helped by the ludicrous names, like an outdated music hall turn.

"Keep trying," he told Halliwell, and added as encouragement, "I was impressed by that plasterer from Winchester. It's the best lead we're likely to get."

"It's all we've got," said Halliwell. "We've followed up all the calls that came in after your spot on Newsnight. The rest were dross. It gives some people a sense of importance, helping the police. 'I had tea in the Pump Room in 1963 and I remember seeing a man with staring eyes.' That's the quality of information we got from most of them."

"It was the bill for the cream tea, I expect."

"What's that, sir?"

"The reason for the staring eyes."

His wit had not infected Halliwell, who had spent far too long on the phone.

"Have you eaten?" Diamond asked him.

"Not yet."

"Better get down there, hadn't you? It's gone two."

"You just told me to keep trying, sir."

"Within limits, Keith. I'm not a slave-driver."

Halliwell refrained from comment. He was on his feet and heading for the canteen when Sergeant Leaman appeared in the doorway.

"Hold on a minute, Keith," said Diamond. "What is it, sergeant?"

Leaman looked right and left, as if he was about to impart something confidential. "I'm not sure what to do, sir. I just heard from the hospital. The mortuary. They wanted to speak to Mr Wigfull. I said he was on his way there with Professor Dougan."

Diamond glanced at the clock. "Ought to be there by now. What did they want?"

"It was about the body-the woman found at the weir. They said the police surgeon called in to look at her. It seems he found something nobody noticed down by the weir. She had injuries to the back of the head. Really nasty injuries, hidden by her hair. The skull is impacted in a couple of places. It could have happened when she fell into the water, or after she was in it, but-"

"Someone could have beaten her over the head and dropped her in?"

Leaman smoothed his hands nervously down his sides. "That's it, sir. Mr Wigfull ought to be told before they go in to view the body, but not while the professor is with him. It's possible-"

"You're damned right, it is," said Diamond, galvanized. "Keith, get on the phone. Get the mortuary-keeper, or whoever is in there, to keep them waiting outside. He's to tell them nothing about the injuries. Make out that the body isn't ready to be seen. If Wigfull wants to know why, tell him I'm on my way and I'll explain all."

HE WAS at the Royal United Hospital inside ten minutes, thanks to a good young driver and a siren that would carry on ringing in his ears twenty minutes after it was switched off. He found Wigfull and Professor Dougan waiting in a side room. Wigfull was pacing the room, the professor hunched on a chair. This was Diamond's first sight of Joe Dougan, a short, tanned, middle-aged man with anxiety deeply etched across his features.

The first duty was to take Wigfull outside and tell him what the police surgeon had found.

Predictably, Wigfull's reaction was to exonerate himself. "How could I have noticed injuries to the back of the head? When I looked at her, she was lying face up in the undertaker's van."

"It doesn't matter, John. What matters is the way we handle the professor."

"We?"

"This could be murder."

"But it's my case. I was down at the weir directing the operation."

"She was just a floater then." He waited for Wigfull to grasp the altered situation.

He was defiant. "So she could be a murder victim. I can handle it myself."

"I think we should work together at this stage," Diamond said firmly. If he had to pull rank, he would. He had prior responsibility for murder cases.

"I thought you were fully stretched on the other inquiry-the body parts in the vault-what with all the media interest."

"You've put your finger on it, John. The professor may be involved. He conned his way into the vault the day before yesterday. The lads stupidly took him for a pathologist."

"I heard about that. It was just a mistake."

"He lost his way. Oh, yeah."

"What's it got to do with his wife being found dead?"

"We'll find out presently. Before we show him the body, I want a preview, a look at these injuries, if you don't object."

"I'll come with you," Wigfull said quickly.

Inside, a mortuary attendant had the body ready on a trolley. He lifted the sheet from the bloated face of a small-featured, middle-aged woman with dark hair.

Neither detective spoke. A few hours' immersion in water has dramatic effects on the appearance of a body. Not only does the face swell. After removal from the water the pigmentation darkens.

"The back of the head, if you don't mind," Diamond said.

The attendant put his hands under the shoulders and raised the torso towards him, untroubled by the strange embrace. Diamond lifted some matted strands of hair and the injuries underneath were obvious. The surface was concave in one place. It must have taken a terrific impact.

"A cosh?"

Wigfull shrugged.

Diamond thanked the attendant and went to a sink to wash his hands.

Joe Dougan stood up when they returned to the waiting room. His eyes were bloodshot and deep ridges of tension had appeared at the edge of his mouth. "Can we get this over now?"

"I didn't introduce myself," said Diamond. "Detective Superintendent Peter Diamond. Murder squad."

"Joe Dougan." Then he reacted, blinked and swayed. "Did I hear you right?"

"I head the murder squad," Diamond said genially. "I don't think we've met. I missed you the other day when you visited one of our crime scenes, the vault under the Pump Room."

"That seems a long time ago now," said Joe. "You did say murder?"

"That's my job. Someone has to do it. What was your interest in the vault?"

"What did you say?" Joe was ashen-faced.

"The vault. What were you doing there?"

"Do I have to explain at this point in time? If you don't mind, I'd like to get this ordeal over with and get out of this place."

"Understood, sir," said Diamond, unusually considerate. "We'll talk about it after."

They went back to the main post mortem room, a tiled, white place. The corpse had been covered again for this formality. The attendant stood ready.

Wigfull explained, "It's just a matter of letting us know if you recognise her. I'd better warn you that her face has puffed up and darkened a bit. The water does that."

He nodded to the attendant. The dead features were revealed again.

Only a faint sibilance, a slight in drawing of breath, came from Joe.

Diamond put the necessary question to him.

The little man was silent some time before saying in a low, but steady voice, "Yes, I recognise her."

Unable to deal impassively with the stress of the moment, Wigfull swept suspicion aside and said, "You have my sympathy, professor."

Joe turned to him and said with raised eyebrows, "All I said is I recognise her. This isn't Donna. It's a lady who runs an antique store I visited. Miss Redbird."

"WHERE ARE WE GOING?" Joe Dougan asked Diamond.

"Bath Central Police Station."

"You taking me in, or what?"

"Depends what you mean. We just want to ask you some questions."

"Can't it be done here?"

"In the hospital grounds? We'd rather do it at the nick."

"And if I refuse?"