The Last Detective (28 page)

'You're right! It didn't mean anything to me.'

'There was no address, just a phone number. If we could get that number . . .'

'Right on!' Then Jackman's expression altered. 'But the address book must be still in the hands of the police.'

'The defence solicitor could ask to examine it. They can't refuse. It's a reasonable request, and he doesn't have to say what he's looking for.'

'I'll call Siddons right away.'

It was easy - too easy for Diamond's cynical mind, which warned him that nothing you really want comes without hassle. Siddons the solicitor went straight to Bath Central and saw John Wigfull. The address book was produced for him. Within an hour of asking for it, Jackman had Andy's phone number.

The snag came when they tried it. An Asian voice answered. The Bristol number was an Indian restaurant in the St Paul's district of the city. They didn't know anyone called Andy. It gradually emerged that the restaurant had opened in January, having taken over empty premises that had been boarded up for a couple of months. Before that, it had been a gents' hairdressers.

Diamond succeeded in contacting the estate agent who had handled the transfer of the property. The man wasn't too pleased to be asked about Andy. He'd had to deal with a number of inquiries from a variety of callers. The barber's name had not been Andy. He had been Mario, and he had died in the flu epidemic just before Christmas. The estate agent gathered that Mario the barber had made a secondary income by taking messages for scores of dubious people who called into the shop from time to time.

Diamond put down the phone and told Jackman, 'It's a dead end.'

MATTHEW DIDRIKSON SAT EATING HIS second slice of chocolate fudge cake in Charlotte's Patisserie in the Colonnades. Facing him were Jackman and Diamond. They had sought out a table under an arch at the rear of the shop; even so, they looked conspicuous among the shoppers and business people refreshing themselves for the journey home. Diamond, in the crumpled check suit he habitually wore, was shoehorned into the space between the table edge and the upholstered seat that went halfway around; and Jackman, elegant in brown corduroy and a black shirt, could have been straight out of a colour magazine fashion feature. Matthew was wearing a white shirt, striped tie and navy pullover, having peeled off his school blazer at the first opportunity. Diamond had predicted that at this hour of the day they would find the boy somewhere in the Colonnades making a nuisance of himself on the escalators or in the lift, and he'd been right. It remained to be discovered what they would get in return for their bribe of unlimited cake.

'How's your head these days?' Diamond asked. 'No more blackouts, I hope?'

Clearly sensing that he had the high ground here, Matthew was in no hurry to respond. He glanced towards some schoolgirls at a table nearby, ran his fingers through his dark hair, and finally admitted, 'It's all right.'

'It's some time since we spoke. It was here, wasn't it? I was in disguise, if you remember.' When that got no reaction, Diamond added, 'I don't think Professor Jackman knows I played Santa, unless you mentioned it.'

Jackman said quickly, 'It's Greg. He calls me Greg.'

This earned a smirk from Matthew, a more positive response than Diamond had achieved so far, so Jackman took up the conversation. 'Mat and I haven't seen much of each other for a while, come to that. His mother wanted it that way after a misunderstanding and of course I respected her decision, but we had some good days out, didn't we, Mat?'

Matthew nodded.

The set-up was fast becoming ridiculous, two grown men trying to coax information from a schoolboy over afternoon tea. Diamond tried to sound less avuncular. 'Have you been to see your mother in the remand centre?'

A nod.

'This week?'

'Sunday.'

'How's she

'How's she bearing up?'

'All right.'

It was difficult to tell whether the brevity of the responses demonstrated unwillingness to answer or a wish to consume the cake without interruption.

'Mat, we're trying to help her,'Jackman said.

Diamond added, 'And it's up to you to help us.'

Matthew made no comment at all.

'I don't know if you understand how serious this is,' Diamond said gravely. 'Do they teach you anything about law at that school of yours? Your mother is being put on trial for murder, but she has a barrister to defend her and he must try to show that there is reasonable doubt. Follow me, Mat?'

The boy pushed aside the empty plate and wiped his lips. 'Yep.' He looked away from the table, over his shoulder.

'Another piece?'Jackman suggested.

'If I can have a Coke to wash it down.'

'Bring me some change, then.' He handed over a five-pound note.

While Matthew was at the self-service counter, Diamond said, 'Talk about sweeteners. Does this come out of Mrs Didrikson's defence fund?'

'Couldn't justify it on what we've heard so far,' said Jackman.

When the boy returned and put the plate of cake on the table, Diamond reached out and moved it deftly out of range. 'Now I want you to cast your mind back. Your mother told me about an incident she witnessed in front of Professor Jackman's house one day last summer. You were with her.'

Matthew was silent. His eyes were on the cake.

'There was some kind of dust-up between Mrs Jackman and a man.'

'Andy.'

'What did you say, son?'

'Andy. The man's name was Andy.'

'You've got a good memory, obviously. We'd like to find this Andy. You see, if he and Mrs Jackman were seen grappling with each other — as I understand they were — he has to be regarded as a possible suspect. Let's test that memory of yours and see exactly how much you can tell us about him.'

'What's the point?'

Diamond reined in his irritation. 'Son, we explained. Reasonable doubt.'

'I mean why ask me, when you can see him for yourself?'

'If we knew where to find him, we would. That's the point.'

'I know where.'

'What?'

'I know where you can see Andy. I've seen him heaps of times.'

The entire seat creaked as Diamond braced. 'Where?'

'In the Baths.'

'The Roman Baths, do you mean?'

'Mm.'

He slid the cake back towards the boy. 'Tell me more.'

'I told you,' said Matthew. 'If you want to talk to Andy, that's where to look.'

'He works there?'

'Don't know.' Matthew stuffed some cake in his mouth. 'Listen, all I know is that I've seen him down there quite a few times.'

'What were you doing down there?'

'Nothing much.' The dismissive answer appeared to be all they would get. Then the boy's bravado triggered a statement that was the longest Diamond had ever heard from him. 'I go down after school. It's a spooky place. I like it. The kids in my form started this dare. You have to go right through the Baths without being caught by the security men. You walk into the souvenir shop in Stall Street, and when no one is looking you whizz down the stairs marked
staff only —
which is really the exit - and you're inside. You have to watch out for the security men, of course, but if you're smart you can walk right through the whole of the Baths and come out in the Pump Room. No one stops you there because it's the restaurant. I've done it zillions of times. It's a doddle.'

'And that's where you see Andy?'

Matthew nodded.

'Doing what?'

'Pointing at stuff and talking mostly.'

'He's a guide, then?'

'Sort of. He has these students with him.'

'Students?'
said Jackman, reddening suddenly.

'Not every time. Sometimes he's alone.'

Diamond was far ahead, assessing the implications, but the process of question and answer had to be completed. 'So he may be a lecturer of some sort?'

'Don't know.'

Matthew added nothing else of significance. And little was said at that stage between the two men. If Andy, the presumed supplier of Geraldine's cocaine, had connections with the university, Jackman was going to face some questions himself.

When they got up to leave, Diamond invited Matthew to visit the Roman Baths with him after school on Monday, the next opportunity. 'Meet me here,' he suggested, adding craftily, 'and if you're early, there may be time for another slice of fudge cake. Then you can help me do some detective work. But I want one thing clear: we enter the Baths the regular way, through the front. I'm too visible to creep down the back stairs.'

Matthew grinned and went off to look for his friends.

Out in Stall Street, Jackman was burning to say something. 'Before you ask. there's no school of archaeology at the university.'

'History?'

Jackman was actually shaking his head when he clapped his hand to his forehead and said, 'Wait a minute. I'm wrong. A section started up this year. Just a handful of lecturers and first-years. I can't say I know any of them. That's the truth.' He paused^ 'I suppose you want me to make inquiries.'

'If you can manage it without alerting anyone,' Diamond, said. 'I want to surprise Andy.'

'Want some support?'

'There's no need. I'll let you know what happens, naturally.'

'Actually I'd quite like to be there,' Jackman offered with a self-conscious clearing of the throat. 'I haven't seen much of Mat in recent weeks. I like the kid.'

'That isn't the point of the exercise,' Diamond told him in the tone he'd once used to keep the murder squad in line. 'I'll be in touch.'

If the truth were told, he liked the kid, too, for all his rough edges.

Jackman phoned on Monday with news of a part-time lecturer attached to the University history section. He was called Anton Coventry, and was known as Andy. His specialism was the history of Roman architecture, and he was presently leading a study of the Roman Baths with a first-year group from the School of Architecture and Building Engineering. They met on Mondays and Thursdays at 4.30. By special arrangement they had the use of the Baths those days for an extra hour after the public had left, until 6.00. Jackman's inquiries had confirmed that Coventry had blond hair and dressed in a macho style. Moreover, he was a triathlon specialist.

'A what?'

'Triathlon. It's a sport, the ultimate in endurance, a kind of triple marathon, involving running, swimming and cycling.'

'Sounds to me like the ultimate in folly. Triathlon. When you mentioned it first, I thought maybe someone had invented the ideal sport for people like me, giving you credit for trying, and the hell with achievement.'

'Trying, yes. I get it,' said Jackman without amusement. 'Coming back to Andy, I find it hard to square a passion for fitness with pushing drugs.'

'Nothing strange in that,' said Diamond, the pure-born cynic. 'Drugs are commonplace in sport.'

'I'd like to make it clear that I've never met the guy, so far as I'm aware,'Jackman stressed.

'Point taken.' Diamond grinned unkindly as he put down the phone.

On Monday afternoon, Matthew must have raced out of school or skipped a lesson, because he was waiting in the Colonnades by the entrance to the patisserie. Consequently there was ample time for the cake. Diamond, under instructions from his doctor to limit the calories, confined himself to a frugal black coffee, averting his eyes from the boy's plate as he issued instructions. 'Get this clear, Mat. Your purpose in being there is to satisfy yourself that the man in the Baths is the same one you saw having a set-to with Mrs Jackman in the drive of John Brydon House. If you made a mistake, or can't be sure, then you must have the guts to say so, right? But whatever happens, I want you to stay quiet while we get a look at him, and remain hidden after that.'

If proof of Mat's commitment were required, it came when he put down the cake half-eaten and suggested they started. Diamond told him there was plenty of time to clear his plate.

'I can't. I'm too excited,' Matthew admitted.

Diamond's self-control wavered. 'Pass it across, then.'

At 4.20 pm, they left the Colonnades, crossed Stall Street and entered the Baths. To reach the ticket office, it was necessary to pass through the Pump Room, the meeting-place of Georgian society that now serves as a restaurant. The tea-time ritual was fully in session, every chair occupied, the waitresses in their black waistcoats, white blouses and aprons trying zealously to keep up, and the trio at the near end lustily performing the Toreador music from
Carmen.
It was a relief to penetrate to the more serene atmosphere beyond.

Not many visitors were entering the Baths at this stage of the day. The woman in the ticket office warned them that the exhibition closed to the public at 5.00. Attendants would ask everyone to leave. Diamond gave a nod of understanding. As soon as they were out of earshot, Matthew, the veteran interloper, confided to Diamond that he knew hundreds of places to hide.

Diamond didn't care to admit that he'd never previously made the official tour of the Baths. Two terms of Latin in his youth had killed any interest in the Romans. Once he had attended a civic dinner in the Pump Room, preceded by cocktails beside the Great Bath; looking up to admire the lighting supplied by flaming torches attached to the columns, he had tripped on the uneven paving and spilt most of his drink down the dinner jacket he'd hired for the evening.

They came first to the remains of the temple of Sulis Minerva, picked out by discreetly sited lighting, so that the weathered limestone effigies of the gods glowed red-gold on the altar. The tourists down there were lingering to gaze, if not to read the guide-notes, but Matthew, striding through as if it were his home, said, 'You don't want to waste time here. Andy covered this bit a month ago. He's doing the Great Bath this week.'

They moved along a walkway and down several flights of stairs, taking a series of turns that confused Diamond's sense of direction until they passed a window that looked down on to an open-air bath. The surface of the water was bubbling. 'That's only the sacred spring,' Matthew mentioned dismissively, seeing Diamond hesitate. At a still lower level, they heard a steady rush of water and saw the arch where the overflow from the spring tipped out as a miniature waterfall.

Ahead was daylight and the Great Bath, its blue-green rectangle overhung with steam. After the spotlights in the tunnelled approaches, the sense of space and light could not fail to impress. The Bath itself was some seventy feet by thirty, with steps down to the water. Rows of columns on stone piers surrounded it, supporting a canopy for the flagstoned aisles where Romans once promenaded, watching the bathers. The stretch of water was open to the sky. Visitors stood in ones and twos along the aisles, staring up at the columns and the sculptured figures mounted above them. 'Most of it's Victorian,' Matthew informed Diamond. 'The Roman stuff barely comes up to your knees.' His education had profited from his trespassing in the Baths.

Diamond wasn't there for the architecture. A group of young people had gathered at the far end. Their style of dress and their absorption in conversation, rather than the surroundings, confirmed them as students. The lecturer had not appeared yet.

For the moment, Diamond had no need to get close to the students. Around the sides of the Bath, under the canopy, were a series of recesses where miscellaneous bits of masonry were displayed on stone plinths. Most were too low or too narrow to be useful to someone of Diamond's size, but at the centre of the south side was a larger bay that housed an assortment of broken pilasters and columns. It looked possible to get behind it without attracting attention.

He and Matthew strolled casually around the pool until they were level with the bay. After glancing around, he touched Matthew's arm and steered him behind the plinth. They didn't even need to crouch.