Peter Lovesey: Diamond Dust

At odds with his agnostic leanings, he joined in the hymns as well as he could and heard the address, the readings and the prayers and wished peace and rest for her. And then followed the coffin out again and was driven to the crematorium at Haycombe for what the undertakers had termed the committal.

There, not for the first time in recent days, he had the strange sensation that he was detached from what was going on, with the power to switch off as if it were a TV programme. Some roguish part of his brain was telling him it was all a nightmare and he would go home and find her there. He had to make an effort to concentrate.

All the illusions came to a stop when the curtains slid across.

Back to the Francis for the 'light refreshments'. The pitying looks and well-meant words of consolation from her friends – and his – rammed home the certainty that she had gone and his life had altered immeasurably.

A few went so far as to ask what was happening about catching the person responsible. He answered that he didn't know. The case was out of his hands.

In truth, he did know. Things were happening, for sure. There was an incident room. Appeals to the public. Over a hundred officers at work. They knew what time the murder had taken place and where, what calibre of gun had been used, what bullets. McGarvie's first reaction had been correct. The murder weapon was a revolver, a.38. But as for the killer, they were still at a loss.

'Are you back to work yet?'

'Tomorrow.'

'Best thing, old man.'

Next morning everyone at the nick went out of their way to be sympathetic. He had to run the gaundet of goodwill before he could close his office door. He didn't count the number of times he was told it was nice to have him back. On his desk were bundles of letters that could only be messages of condolence. He shoved them to one side and leafed through the internal memos instead.

About ten-thirty came a call from McGarvie, who had the sense to treat him like a fellow professional. 'If you can spare a few minutes, I need your help.'

'On the case?' He couldn't disguise his eagerness.

'Yes – but don't get me wrong. This doesn't put you on the team. I want your services as a witness, to take a look at a suspect.'

'A line-up?'

'No. We've brought in a woman we think may be the one who scratched your face outside the law courts. You can look at her on camera, tell us if we're right.'

'You think she could be the killer?'

'Did I say that?'

'You said she was a suspect'

'For the assault on you.'

'That? I don't want anyone done for that,' Diamond said at once. 'I haven't laid a complaint.'

'Hold on, hold on. It gave me a reason to pull her in,' McGarvie explained. 'I've no plan to press a charge.'

'Ah.' His brain wasn't sharp at all.

'We'll see what else comes out. If she's so passionate about the Carpenter verdict, she might say something helpful.'

'I'm with you now.'

'Say twenty minutes?'

His confidence in McGarvie was growing, in spite of the lack of any obvious progress. He fetched a coffee from the machine at the cost of another 'nice to see you back' from one of the civilian staff, and took it to the observation room, where you could monitor interviews.

The woman was being questioned by McGarvie and a female detective in Interview Room C. Diamond had to watch the screen for a while before making up his mind. The last time he'd seen this woman she was practically foaming at the mouth. Now there was no discernible aggression. She was in control of herself, if not entirely at ease.

But definitely his attacker.

McGarvie was saying to her, 'You don't deny you were in court?'

'That's no crime.'

'What was your interest in the case?'

No response.

'You're a friend of Jake Carpenter's – is that right?'

'If you know it all, buster,' she said with a flat nasal twang more London than Bristol, 'I don't know why you bother to ask me.'

'I'm giving you the chance to explain what happened.'

'Oh, sure.'

'You were also seen outside the court demonstrating – if that's the word – about the verdict.'

'It's a free country.'

'So you don't deny you were one of the people shouting?'

She showed more interest. McGarvie was making headway, even if she insisted on ducking the last question. She flicked some blond hair from her face, and tilted her chin to a more challenging angle. Defiant, but sexy. Meticulously groomed and fashionably dressed in a black suit and wine-red polo-neck. It was easy to see why Jake Carpenter had been attracted.

'Did you follow all of the trial?' McGarvie asked. 'Did you hear all the evidence?'

'Evidence? I call it a stitch-up.'

'So I'm told. Were you there right through?'

'Not every day. I couldn't stomach it, watching a fine man brought down.'

In the observation room, Diamond said, 'I feel like throwing up.'

McGarvie pressed on. 'What's the truth of it, then, in your opinion? The poor woman was violently murdered. Her face was raw meat when they took her out of the river. You wouldn't argue with that?'

'Jake ain't a violent man. He may have his faults, but he don't treat women like that.'

'The blood in his car matched hers.'

'Piss-easy to arrange, innit?'

'Watch it, Janie.'

'Some nutter killed her,' she said. 'She was on the game. It's a risk they take.'

'Jake was her pimp,' McGarvie told her. 'She flew the coop and paid the price with her life.'

'Your lot were out to get him, and this gave you the excuse.'

'Her blood was on his shoe as well.'

'Of course it was. A few spots in his car wouldn't do the trick. It stands out a mile what you did. You wrap it up as science and the stupid jury swallows it.'

They could have gone on like this indefinitely. McGarvie had the sense to change the script.

'How long have you known the Carpenters?'

'Seven months.'

'You're not local, are you, Janie? Where are you from?'

'Dagenham.'

'But you don't know Bristol very well, or you wouldn't be holding a torch for the Carpenter brothers. Where did you meet Jake?'

'Nightclub.'

'Local?'

'London.'

'And he brought you here and set you up in a nice apartment in Clifton? Did you stop to think what the price tag is?'

Her eyes blazed. 'Sod off, will you?'

'So it was pure romance,' McGarvie said with heavy irony.

'I'm not on the game. Never have been.'

'Nor was Maeve Smith before she met Jake. Get real, Janie. He's evil.'

'Take a running jump.'

McGarvie paused before shifting to another line of questioning. 'Who were the people you were with outside the court?'

'His mates.'

'Family?'

'Don't ask me. We just stood together to make ourselves heard.'

'You didn't know them by name? They were mainly women.'

'I told you.'

'One of the women attacked Superintendent Diamond, the senior detective on the case.'

She said vaguely, 'Oh, yeah?'

'Scratched his face and kicked him when he fell. That's assault on a police officer.'

'Serve him right.'

'What?'

The temper ignited. 'He framed my boyfriend, got him sent down for life. What do you think I'm going to do? Cook him a fucking fruitcake?'

'Are you admitting to the assault?'

'Bollocks.'

'You know his wife has been murdered?'

She switched to defence. 'Oh, come on – you can't pin that on me just because…' In time, she managed to stop herself saying any more.

'You appreciate how serious this is?'

'I never… It's a load of crap. Is that why you pulled me in? I wouldn't do a thing like that to my worst enemy. I didn't even know the woman. I don't have a shooter. I never handled one in my life.'

'Don't get hysterical,' McGarvie said. 'Listen, Janie. No one is pinning anything on you. I may even take a lenient view of the assault on DS Diamond if you can put me on the trail of the killer. What have you heard?'