Peter Lovesey - Diamond Dust

'Someone must have had it ready. That phone call from the car?'

'Whatever, she's left us for dead.'

They overtook the two cars. Nothing else was in view.

'Have you thought why we're risking our bloody lives?' Diamond said as they hurtled along well in excess of the speed limit. 'We're chasing a woman who might or might not lead us to another woman who might or might not be able to tell us the whereabouts of a man who might or might not have committed murder.'

'Want to give up?'

'No. Keep going.'

And persistence paid off. Around the next bend was a sign for road works and temporary traffic lights. In a few hundred yards they joined the end of a stationary line of traffic held by a red light. Three ahead was the white Mercedes.

Back in touch.

'Is it worth getting out?'

'No. We want to know where she's going.'

The lights changed and everyone moved again. It was sedate progress behind a container lorry, which suited Diamond. He was looking at signs.

'The next place of any size is Midhurst'

The driver of the Mercedes was getting impatient, repeatedly edging out into the oncoming lane for a chance to overtake the couple of vans and the truck ahead. Each time something appeared in view.

'She must have a death wish if she goes for it.'

'So what do we do then?'

The lorry peeled off into a layby and the vans eased towards the kerb, enabling the Mercedes to cruise past and pick up speed again. Nothing was approaching, so Stormy made the same move. Diamond cautioned him yet again to keep some distance back. They didn't have to be obvious.

Without any indication the Mercedes left the Midhurst Road at a right turn. About a hundred yards in the rear, the detectives followed, along a twisting, bumpy road through a dense wood.

'Pull over,' Diamond said suddenly. 'She's stopping.'

They slid into an overtaking bay with enough foliage around it to hide them from the road ahead.

'Think she saw us?'

'Who knows?'

'Let's get out. Don't slam the door.'

Diamond's legs felt as if he had run every yard of the trip from Puttenham, and he was mightily relieved to get his feet on the ground again. Dipping low, he trotted across a carpet of dead leaves to a place among the trees that gave reasonable cover. Stormy did the same.

They could see the Mercedes standing in a cobbled driveway in front of a large red-brick house. The woman got out, raked a hand through her hair, stretched, and stood looking along the road, probably to check that she'd shaken off her pursuers. Then she stepped towards the house. They heard a door open and close.

'So?' Stormy said.

'Let's get closer.'

There was a point where the wooded area ended and the landscaped garden began and it was surrounded by a ring fence six feet high that looked in good condition.

Diamond felt a nudge from his companion.

'What?'

Stormy was pointing at a video camera mounted on a post inside the fence and swivelling, scanning the area where they stood. They dipped out of view.

'Strong on security.'

'But you and I know that sometimes these things are just for show.'

Diamond decided on the next move. 'Give me ten minutes to size up the place,' he told Stormy. 'Better if one of us goes in first'

Stormy said he would wait in the car.

The only way in was through the front gate, so he used it, conscious that he was likely to be picked up by a camera. The surveillance equipment looked state of the art.

He crossed the cobbles to the porch and hesitated. To his left was a large, low, mullioned window with leaded panes. It probably gave a view of one of the front rooms. He stepped closer. Inside were two large sofas and a vast coffee table with a few magazines arranged symmetrically on it. He was reminded more of a dentist's waiting room than a private home. A door stood open at the far end and he was conscious of a movement and saw someone cross the space behind. Female, he was certain, and he assumed she must be the woman they'd been following. At least she wasn't sitting in front of a CCTV monitor watching his movements.

Feeling bolder, he decided to reconnoitre the place from outside. Keeping close to the wall, he edged around the side of the building.

Straight ahead was a sunroom with metal lounging chairs and pink and green cushions. It had an exterior door that he tried and found locked.

He was totally still when he heard the scrape of a stone close by.

He spun around.

She was right behind him, the woman they'd followed from Puttenham, legs apart, leaning slightly forward, hands in front of her in a martial arts stance. There wasn't time for words. He put up a hand defensively and she grasped it with both of hers and tugged him towards her. Totally unprepared for this, he lurched forward and suddenly she executed a twist, thrust out her left leg and he crashed over her thigh and hit the ground hard.

Fortunately he'd landed on turf, or he would have broken a limb for sure. Winded and shaken, he tried to raise himself. But the combat wasn't over yet. She threw herself on him and straddled him with her thighs, forcing him face down. She grabbed his right arm and yanked it across his back. He felt something cold tighten around the wrist, like wire. Then round the other arm.

He was handcuffed.

The lines on Joe Florida's face gave the lie to his dark hair. They were deeply etched around his eyes and mouth and no one would mistake them for laugh-lines. He was probably past fifty. And the striplight overhead lent that hair an unlikely reddish sheen. Seated opposite Curtis McGarvie and Keith Halliwell in an interview room at Shepherd's Bush Police Station, he was well aware of his rights. The clock was ticking. They could hold him without charge for twenty-four hours and it might be extended to thirty-six by an officer of superintendent rank or above for a 'serious arrestable offence', but he was entitled to eight uninterrupted hours of rest in the twenty-four. He'd already been in custody more than eight. There had been delays. His solicitor had not been in any hurry to get there. The police themselves were slow, hampered by being a hundred miles away from their incident room.

Curtis McGarvie had thought seriously about transporting the man to Bath, but that would have added hours, and the solicitor would have raised all kinds of objections. So they were doing it here.

McGarvie wasn't discouraged. He'd watched Florida's body language. The man was uneasy each time the questioning returned to the murder of Stephanie Diamond.

'Once more, what were you doing in Bath on Tuesday, February the twenty-third?'

'Get real, will you?'

'Answer the question.'

'It's a stupid question.'

'So where were you?'

'February was months back, for Chrissake.'

'Have you visited Bath this year?'

'For the tape,' Halliwell said, 'the witness is shaking his head.'

McGarvie tried another ploy. 'And if I said we have someone who saw you that morning?'

Joe Florida twitched.

The solicitor was quick to say, 'If you do have a witness, kindly inform us. If the question is hypothetical – as I strongly suspect it may be – I'm advising Mr Florida to ignore it'

McGarvie gave a shrug. 'It would save us all a good deal of time if Mr Florida stated where he was that morning.'

'He doesn't remember. I doubt if any of us could remember what we were doing on a precise date seven or eight months ago.'

'He does,' McGarvie said. 'It's obvious from his demeanour.'

And Florida twitched again.

She ordered Diamond to stand. Not easy when you're cuffed. Then she frisked him – expertly. She unlocked the sunroom door and prodded the small of his back. Inside, she pressed on the handcuffs and forced him to his knees.