Peter Lovesey - Skeleton Hill

It took another hour, but eventually a breakdown lorry came out from Georgina’s Mercedes dealer in Bath and took the stricken car away. Diamond rode with the driver. ‘Any idea what this will cost me?’

‘The call-out? About a hundred and ninety.’

‘The damage to the hub.’

‘Not my job, mate, but I guess you’ll need a new sub-frame and with it the flange, angular contact and rim lock. After they’ve added the tax you won’t get much change out of a grand.’

‘Jesus!’

‘That’s not counting the new tyre. You’ll want a new tyre by the looks of the old one.’

He didn’t ask the price.

The good news, he stressed to Georgina when he got back at lunchtime, was that the garage was fixing everything. He would collect the car at five and drive it back to Manvers Street for her to use at the end of the day – as good as new.

She listened to his account in a stunned state. He told her everything and admitted full responsibility and said he’d pay for all the repairs. He was out of the office and on his way downstairs before her mouth closed.

Fish and a double portion of chips went some way to absorbing his own shock.

Now that he’d informed Georgina, he was feeling better about the whole sorry episode. You have to be positive. As his mother had been fond of saying in times of trouble, the sharper the storm, the sooner it’s over. Writing the cheque and going deeper into overdraft would be a pain, but, hell, there were bumps along the way in everyone’s life. He’d been right about misfortunes coming in threes. He’d had his three now. He could move on with confidence. He’d already called Bristol and asked Septimus Ward to stand in as senior investigating officer for the rest of the day. There was plenty to keep the team busy.

So he left the canteen with a smile. He felt free to pass on his story to Keith Halliwell and anyone else who would be amused by it. Most experiences are better for being shared.

The incident room was buzzing. Civilian staff he’d not seen before were working computers. A large map of Lansdown was fixed to a pinboard and covered in markers he didn’t understand. There were photos of the skeleton hunched up in its grave and laid out later in the lab. Some sort of chart listing events year by year was on another wall. Halliwell was holding a phone to his ear, too busy, it seemed, to listen to stories of Georgina’s car.

Ingeborg came in holding a sheaf of papers. She, at least, recog-n ised her boss. ‘Hi, guv. I thought you were in Bristol.’

‘I was. You seem to be busy.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘Are you getting anywhere?’

‘Keith thinks so. He’s really upbeat.’

‘What’s happening then?’

‘We had a new witness in this morning. He only just left. I don’t know what it was about, but Keith and John Leaman took the statement and they seem fired up.’

‘I think I met the guy. He was in first thing.’

‘You know more than I do, then.’

‘No. I stayed well out of it.’

‘I’d better get on,’ she said. ‘I’m doing the map.’

‘The coloured pins? What’s that about?’

‘Locating incidents reported in the press in a five-year period. Everything from a car shunt to an unexploded bomb.’

‘What’s that supposed to achieve?’

‘It’s visual, isn’t it?’

‘Okay,’ he said, giving nothing away of his private thoughts. He decided to leave them to it. The story of the Mercedes could wait for a better moment.

In the less frenetic confine of his office, he tried some cautious movements to see if his back had worsened as a result of the tyre change. If anything, the discomfort had eased a little. Encouraged, he placed a hand on the filing cabinet and tried performing a gentle plié, like a ballet dancer at the barre.

Behind him came the sound of a throat being cleared.

He turned to find Halliwell standing in the doorway. ‘Am I interrupting, guv?’

‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘You should see my Nutcracker.’

Halliwell didn’t get it.

Diamond said, ‘I looked in at the incident room a short while back. You were up to your eyes in work.’

‘Inge told me you came in. Is everything okay?’

‘Why shouldn’t it be?’

‘I didn’t expect to see you here.’

‘Car trouble.’

‘Ah. Too bad. But as you’re here, I can pass on something of interest. We took a witness statement this morning.’

‘Dave?’

‘You know already?’

Diamond shook his head. ‘I met him briefly.’

‘Well, I don’t know how much he told you, but you might like to read the statement. He was there when they re-enacted the battle and it seems he teamed up with Rupert Hope.’

‘My man?’ Diamond’s interest quickened.

‘They were both in the royalist army, as Dave calls it, and they were killed – pretend killed – if you follow me. He offered your man a lager. He’d hidden a six-pack before the battle, buried it at the base of a fallen tree.’

‘Our tree?’

‘My tree now,’ Halliwell was sharp to point out. There were territorial issues here. ‘They quit the battlefield for a while and went to look. Two cans were there and they found them and had a drink and then felt in the hole for the others and they’d gone. Someone must have seen him bury them and helped themselves. Dave started burrowing. He didn’t ever find the other tins, but he pulled out a bone that seems to have been the femur – my femur.’

‘You’d better rephrase that.’

‘You know what I mean, guv. The femur from the skeleton.’

‘I thought the dog found that.’

‘I’m coming to that.’

‘Did they know what it was?’

‘They worked out that it was human and they assumed, like us, that it was old and probably belonged to some soldier killed in the real Civil War. They agreed that the decent thing was to let him rest in peace, so they buried it again.’

‘In the same place?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did they do then?’

‘Both went back to the battle and Dave never spoke to Rupert again. He didn’t know he was dead until I told him. He doesn’t read the papers, he said.’

‘It’s been all over the television.’

‘I doubt if he bothers with the box. He’s the outdoor type. Likes his riding and shooting and his beer. Someone told him in the pub last night that a skeleton was found and it was part of a murder investigation and that’s why he came forward.’

‘Are you sure he knew nothing of Rupert Hope’s death?’

‘It came as a shock when I told him.’

‘Do you believe him?’

‘He’s a bloody good actor if it was put on.’

‘What’s Dave’s job?’

‘Farrier.’

‘Say that again.’ Diamond had heard furrier and it didn’t seem to go with the outdoor life.

‘Blacksmith. He’s got the smithy at Bradford on Avon.’

‘Got you.’ His thoughts went briefly to blunt instruments and then moved on. ‘What’s he doing playing soldiers if he’s got a smithy to run?’

‘Why does anyone play soldiers?’

‘Rupert did it for the history. It went with the job. I’d better read that statement. This could change everything, Keith.’

But the change Diamond had in mind hadn’t yet dawned on Halliwell.

After speed-reading Dave the blacksmith’s statement, Diamond took it upstairs for another session with Georgina.

Her door was open and she was on the phone to her garage, talking about rim locks and flanges, getting their version of the damage. She waved Diamond away and he took a step back but remained in the room. ‘And can you assure me that everything is being put right? I don’t want any short cuts… At his expense, yes… And how much for the labour?… Very well… Yes, he’ll be collecting it. Thank you.’ She put down the phone.