Peter Lovesey - Diamond Dust

'Face down again.'

He had no option.

The cuffs weren't the old-fashioned sort. They were steel wire loops that cut into the flesh, and they hurt. They hurt still more when she grabbed his right foot and bent the leg back and fastened it to the wrists.

'I'm going for the other one,' she said, and he realised she wasn't speaking to him. At the edge of his vision he could just make out a movement. A shoe, a trainer. He couldn't see who the wearer was.

A male voice said, 'Don't try anything.'

Some chance.

The woman was already gone. She knew about Stormy, too. The camera hadn't been for show.

He lay humiliated, in pain and confusion. It was bad enough being a loser, but to lose so pathetically was dire. The speed of the attack, its cold efficiency, had caught him off-guard. True, he wasn't in the prime of youth, but he'd always believed he'd give some account of himself in hand-to-hand combat. Joke. He'd raised one hand and been thrown and disabled by a woman half his size.

He still didn't understand why. The attack was overreaction considering all he'd done was stroll around the outside of the house.

All he'd done? Being brutally honest, that wasn't all.

He'd tried a door handle, and that had been ill-advised. If you act like a house-breaker, you lay yourself open to attack.

Even so.

It wasn't long before he heard the door open and her voice ordering someone to get down beside him. Apparently Stormy hadn't put up much of a fight either.

Stormy started to say, '\bu don't have to-' Whereupon he was dumped beside Diamond.

'She surprised me,' he told Diamond.

The big man was in too much discomfort to answer.

He heard her tell her colleague, 'I can handle this now.' To Diamond, she said, 'I'm going to release your leg. Don't get ideas. I'm armed.'

The relief was exquisite. His hands were still bound, but blood returning to the veins was bliss.

'On your feet, both of you. I'm prepared to use this gun.'

With difficulty, they obeyed, and a sorry sight they made. Stormy's nose was streaming blood and Diamond's face was heavily smeared with mud. And they were staring into the barrel of an automatic. She was using the two-hand grip recommended on all the weapons training courses.

'Who exactly are you?'

Diamond darted a glance at Stormy, trying to convey that the truth was the best option now. 'Police officers investigating a crime.'

She almost snorted at that.

'If you look in the back pocket of my trousers, you'll find my warrant card,' he told her. 'I'm Detective Superintendent Diamond, and I work out of Bath.'

'DCI Weather,' Stormy chimed in. 'Mine's in my inside jacket pocket.'

She stepped forward, still holding the gun in her left hand, took the ID from Stormy's pocket and clearly decided it was genuine. 'This beats everything. What sort of police work is this, breaking into a private house?'

Playing it straight, Diamond explained that they'd gone to the cottage at Puttenham looking for Fiona Appleby, seeking information about her ex-partner, Edward Dixon-Bligh, who was wanted for questioning in connection with two murders.

' Murders?

'Right.'

'My God, you've got some explaining to do.'

'Do you want to hear about that, or shall I carry on telling you how we got here?'

'All right. You saw me go into the cottage and thought I was Fiona?'

'No. You're the one who collects the mail.'

'You knew this?'

'We found out.'

'Who from?'

'The neighbour.'

She clicked her tongue at her own carelessness.

Quick to follow up, Diamond asked, 'So do you know what's happened to Fiona?'

She ignored that. 'Let's get back to this peculiar mission of yours – how two senior detectives come all this way to interview a minor witness. A DCI and a super? What am I missing here?'

One thing was clear: this young woman was well-briefed on police procedure.

'Before I answer that, who do you work for?' Diamond asked.

'That's not for discussion. I asked you to explain yourselves.'

'You act as if you're on the side of law and order. Are you?'

She hesitated, then nodded.

'Okay,' Diamond went on. 'Did you read in the paper about the woman's body found recently beside the railway embankment near Woking?'

She had. 'The ex-policewoman?'

'Right. She was Dave's wife, Mrs Patricia Weather. My own wife was murdered in a public park in Bath last February.'

Plainly she was unprepared for this. She said nothing, but her eyes widened.

Diamond explained more, trying to sound reasonable. 'Before you ask, we're acting on our own initiative. Unofficial, in other words. We have a common cause, as husbands of the victims. The main inquiry is going its own way, and Dave and I are not involved. More to the point, we're not satisfied, so we're following an independent line.'

'I've heard of these cases, both of them,' she admitted, softening her tone. She actually lowered the gun a fraction. 'You're taking a lot on yourselves, aren't you – going out on a limb?'

'Yes. We're out of order. But that's the answer to your question – why two senior detectives are out here trying to see a minor witness.'

'And tailing me?'

'Right.'

She took time to absorb what she had heard. 'You obviously believe Dixon-Bligh is a serious suspect? On what evidence -just that he's lying low?'

Diamond explained that Dixon-Bligh had been Steph's first husband and how they were linking him to the diary entries.

'Why? What's his motive?'

'He's skint. It looks as if he was demanding money from Steph shortly before she was killed. I interviewed him in London not long after the murder. I found him unhelpful and hostile.'

She turned to Stormy. 'And is the same man linked in some way to your wife's death?'

'We're not certain,' Stormy had to admit. 'Like Peter said, we're helping each other.'

'Surely it's up to the SIO on the case to pursue these enquiries?'

'If he had, we wouldn't be here.'

She was shaking her head. 'All this is so bizarre that it might just be true. You can sit down, but I'm keeping the cuffs on you.' She waved them towards a couple of wicker armchairs.

'You asked if I have a link with the police, and I do,' she told them. 'I'm in SO10, the Witness Protection Unit. I have the rank of inspector. I 'm guarding Fiona Appleby.'

'She's alive, then?' Diamond said, encouraged.

'In the next room watching television.'

'For her protection?'

'Yes. This is a police house – a safe house.'

'Who are you protecting her from?'

'Dixon-Bligh?' Stormy suggested.

She didn't answer.

'I see the answer in your eyes,' Stormy pressed her. 'You can trust Peter and me, love. Dixon-Bligh is the enemy, isn't he?'

Diamond cringed at the endearment, but to his mystification, it worked. The doughty DO10 inspector gave Stormy a look that was almost a wink.

'And others.'

She was clearly reluctant to say more, though all the aggro had disappeared.

Whatever it was that was working for them, Stormy was going to milk it. 'Listen, love, what's your first name?'

She balked at that.

'Make one up, then.'

'Gina will do.'

'Gina – that's nice. And I'm Dave. He used to call me Stormy, but he's more respectful these days.' He grinned. 'Gina, there's an "all units" out on Dixon-Bligh. Did you know that? The Met have been looking for him for the past two weeks. If you know this bozo is dangerous, don't you think there might be a tie-in with the two murders?'

She shook her head. 'There's no connection I know of.'

'Maybe we can put you right on that.'

Now Diamond chimed in. 'Hold on, Dave. Gina, you just told us Fiona Appleby is under special protection. What's special about her? I thought she was just someone who was living quietly in a Surrey village because her restaurant failed.'