Peter Lovesey - The Vault

"Are we as obvious as that?" Diamond muttered to Leaman. "It must be the way you walk."

A large area around the spot where Wigfull had been found was marked with metal stakes and checkered tape.

"So what did they pick up in the fingertip search this morning?" Diamond asked when the introductions were over.

"Not a lot, sir," the constable answered. "A horse-shoe, some plastic bottles, a few cigarette butts, all of them looking as if they'd been here for years."

No mention was made of the fresh butts around his feet.

They went over to the plastic tent protecting the spot where Wigfull had been found. Soil samples had been taken, but the scene looked unlikely to yield much information. There were no indications of a struggle. The theory of an ambush was the most plausible.

"What size was the horse-shoe?"

"Average." The constable made the shape with forefingers and thumbs.

"Not large enough for a weapon, then?"

"Don't know, sir."

"I mean a weapon heavy enough to brain a man. If he had any sense, this bozo, he'll have got rid of the weapon in that cornfield we walked through." The fact that the crop was maize didn't undermine the point; you could have driven a motorbike into the field and lost it among the tall stocks.

He pursued this question of the weapon. "If, as we were saying, he was running from Wigfull, he's unlikely to have been carrying the thing he used. It's more likely he picked something up, any damned thing that came to hand."

"A piece of timber?" suggested Leaman.

"That's the way my thoughts were heading." He looked around for a convenient pile of chopped firewood. Nothing so obvious was in sight. "What's behind us, over there?"

"A pond, sir."

He went to see for himself. The pond was outside the staked area, supposedly of limited interest to the scene-of-crime team. Large enough to have floated a rowing boat in it, but you wouldn't have needed oars.

Sergeant Leaman, at his side, said unwisely, "Are you thinking he might have chucked the piece of timber in here, sir?"

"Timber would have floated, wouldn't it?"

Leaman reddened.

Diamond was examining the ground at the margin of the water. He scraped at the soil with his foot, then crouched and rubbed some on his finger and sniffed. "Bonfire. There's just the possibility that he found something here that he used as the weapon. It's the sort of spot teenagers pick for whatever they get up to over a few drinks. See the ring-pulls? Fag-ends? The cheapest drink is cider. That's the one most kids start with, and cider comes in bottles, thick, heavy bottles. It's speculation, but I'm wondering if our villain picked up an empty and bashed John Wigfull with it."

"And chucked it in the pond?" said Leaman.

Diamond gave him a look that said don't push me.

"… ONE THOUGHT, ONE CONCEPTION, one purpose. So much has been done, exclaimed the soul of Frankenstein - more, far more, will I achieve, treading in the steps already marked, I will pioneer a new way, explore unknown powers, and unfold to the world the deepest mysteries of creation."

Like Frankenstein, he was treading in steps already marked, but only to reach new territory. The way was dangerous, better travelled in darkness. More than ever now, he needed to cover his tracks. He was a hunted man.

JOE DOUG AN APPEARED MORE calm than he had at any point up to now. "Nice timing, superintendent," he said, rising from a chair in the garden of the Royal Crescent Hotel. "Why don't you gentlemen join me? I just ordered afternoon tea."

Tea in the Royal Crescent was something special and a waiter was approaching the table, but Diamond waved him away. This was not a twenty-year-old murder he was investigating now. The time of leisurely tea-breaks was well past. He sat opposite Dougan and sent Sergeant Leaman for another chair. "I'd better say at once we have no news of your wife," he told the professor.

"No problem," said Joe with a serene smile.

Diamond widened his eyes.

Joe said, "Donna is fine."

Fine? Diamond had to play the statement over in his mind before fully taking it in.

Joe added, "She called me at lunchtime. She's in Paris, France."

"Paris?"

"It surprised me, too. She just needed time out, she said. Things got a little heavy for her, my fling with Mary Shelley, as she calls it. Yeah, that's the way Donna saw it. She felt neglected. When I went back to the antiques store on Thursday evening, Donna went looking for sympathy. She knocked on the door of some people we met here, a Swiss couple, the Hack-steiners. They had the best suite in the hotel and they took pity. They let Donna spend the night in a spare bed in their suite. The next day she picked her moment to leave the place without being seen and travelled to France with them."

"Without luggage?"

"It's only a train ride."

"Passport?"

"She has it with her. And credit cards." He gave the long suffering smile one man shares with another when talking about the ways of women. "She wants one more day in Paris. Not many shops are open Sundays over there."

"Why didn't she get in touch before this?"

Joe shrugged. "To pay me out, I guess. I'm so happy to know she's alive and well that I didn't ask her."

"You're positive it was your wife?"

"Are you kidding? I know that voice. In twenty-four years I've heard plenty of it."

Heart-warming news, apparently. Diamond was not convinced. He would not believe until he had seen Donna himself. It was all so convenient just when the heat was on Joe. He couldn't produce her because she was in another country.

"So when is she coming back to Bath?"

"She won't. I'll travel out there tomorrow."

Like hell you will, Diamond thought. Suspicion of Joe was driving him now, just as it had driven Wigfull. "Let's talk about yesterday. How did you spend the afternoon and evening?"

Joe's manner changed abruptly. He drew back in the chair, gripping the arms. "Hey, what is this? More dumb questions? I've taken more than my share from you guys in the past two days. I'm going to get onto my embassy if you don't let up. Police intimidation. We don't take that stuff."

"It's not intimidation, professor."

"And what if I refuse to answer?"

"Why should you?"

"Because I'm sick of your questions, that's why. You had co-operation from me all the way, you and that other cop with the mustache. You tell me something: who identified the woman who was found in the river? I did. I'm supposed to be on vacation, not looking at dead bodies. The other evening your people searched my room, treating me like a goddam criminal. I'm standing in my boxer shorts, the Dodge Professor of English, watching two cops go through my possessions."

"Who was that-Chief Inspector Wigfull?"

"With the mustache."

"This was when-Friday?"

Joe nodded. "They didn't find a thing."

"Do you know what they were looking for?"

"You'd better ask the mustache."

"I can't," said Diamond. "John Wigfull is lying unconscious in hospital. Somebody caved his head in."

Joe was silent for a time. "And you're thinking I'm the somebody?"

"It will help us to know your movements yesterday, sir."

Joe flushed. "I'm not a violent man. I'm an academic, for God's sake." His outraged innocence was worth an Oscar nomination if he was acting.

"Yesterday afternoon?" Diamond pressed him, while Leaman waited with notebook open.

With a sigh, Joe capitulated. "What was yesterday… Saturday? I went around the hotels, asking about Donna. It was a long shot, but I wanted to satisfy myself that she wasn't still in Bath. I carry a picture of her and I showed it to the reception people, concierges, bellmen, anyone I could."