The Stone Wife (3 page)

“I warned him from the rostrum not to get involved,” Doggart said. “He took no notice. He was very agitated.”

“We’ll look into his motives.”

“Was the Wife of Bath a bawdy character?” Ingeborg asked.

Neither man answered.

“I’m thinking about the professor’s book,” she said. “He’d written about the bawdy tales.”

“All I can recall about the lady is that she’d been married several times,” Diamond said. “I suppose you’d call her a woman of the world. I don’t remember anything bawdy, as you call it. My school would have made sure we didn’t get to read stuff likely to corrupt our pure young minds.”

“ ‘The Miller’s Tale’ is the rude one,” Doggart said.

Diamond grinned. “Now you mention it, yes, I do have a memory of that. A copy was passed round, but not in class.”

“Your young minds weren’t so pure after all,” Ingeborg said.

“I was being ironical. I bet you read it at school.”

“That’s beside the point,” she said, giving nothing away. “We’re dealing with the Wife of Bath here, not the miller.”

“One thing of immediate concern is what happens next about the tablet,” Doggart said. “Clearly someone will stop at nothing to acquire it. I can’t see the owners wanting it back in the Bridgwater museum and we can’t keep it on the premises here, with the risk of a break-in.”

“That’s all right,” Diamond said. “It’s evidence. We’ll get
it shifted to the nick. I’ll send a van and some fit young coppers. But I’ll let you know when to expect them. These villains are well capable of impersonating the police to get what they want.”

“This much is certain,” he told Ingeborg when they were far enough away from Doggart. “It’s an organised crime—or was meant to be, anyway. We must get the local pond life under the spotlight. Use all our snouts to see if there’s word of a failed job that ended with a shooting.”

“You want me to handle that?”

“Not at this point. There’s something more urgent.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t look so suspicious. I’ll get reinforcements.”

“What for, exactly?”

“Freeing me up to work out what the hell was going on.”

“Okay,” she said in a tone that left him in no doubt she’d expected a better answer.

But Diamond was off on his own track. “I need to look at it from the angle of the victim, try to find out why he was so keen to buy the tablet, as Doggart calls it. I find this fascinating. What’s so special about a beaten-up chunk of old stone you can hardly recognise as anything at all?”

“He’s dead. He can’t tell us.”

“We can question the other bidder, the London dealer who was pushing the professor all the way.”

She nodded. This was a point she’d missed.

“Who was he?” Diamond asked.

“His name is Sturgess. Came down from London.”

“Still about?”

“Most of the bidders are, waiting to collect their purchases.”

“Did Sturgess bid for anything else?”

“I’d better find out. He could be gone by now.”

She left to check and was soon back.

“Sturgess is still here, but I don’t think you’ll get much from him.”

“Try me. Did you say I’ll see him now?”

“Yes, and he said you’ll be wasting your time.”

“He’s got something to hide, then,” Diamond said. “Bring him in.”

She hesitated. “What about all the other bidders?”

“Are they outside as well?”

“Well, yes. I’m thinking someone in that auction must have got a good look at the first gunman before he put his mask on. People were standing pretty close. We’re going to need statements from everyone who was present.”

“Thanks, Ingeborg,” he said. “You’re a mind-reader.”

3

Sturgess, the dealer from London, began in a lofty tone that irritated Diamond straight away. “I hope the police are competent to deal with this. John Gildersleeve was a leading authority on Chaucer.”

“He’s a dead man.”

“That doesn’t alter anything.”

“It altered him. He’s not the leading authority on anything now.”

Sturgess gritted his teeth, obviously more used to dealing with connoisseurs than smart-mouthed policemen. “I’m saying the reason for his death may have to do with his field of expertise.”

“It was murder, whichever way you look at it. That’s my field of expertise.”

“But one needs to know what the motive might have been.”

“Which is why I’m interviewing you, Mr. Sturgess.”

“I’m not a Chaucer expert.”

“You’re not?”

A shake of the head.

“You knew enough to bid well above the valuation. Were you acting for someone else?”

“Certainly. My firm wouldn’t bid at that level without instructions.”

“Who from?”

“No comment.”

Diamond blinked in surprise.

Sturgess raised his chin defiantly. “Wild horses wouldn’t drag the name from me. Client confidentiality.”

“I don’t think I’m getting through to you,” Diamond said. “Do you see what’s going on across the room? That’s a forensic pathologist examining a murder victim. I’m the chief investigating officer and you’re a witness. Don’t talk to me about client confidentiality.”

“The name isn’t relevant, anyway,” Sturgess said.

“I’ll be the judge of that. I could do you for withholding information.”

“I won’t be bullied.”

Diamond took that as a challenge. “Were you hoping to return to London tonight?”

Sturgess turned pale. “You wouldn’t detain me?”

“Tonight, tomorrow and next week if necessary. Don’t look so alarmed. We allow you to contact your solicitor.” Threats have to carry conviction and Diamond issued this unlikely one as coolly as if he was stating the time of day.

There was an immediate change of tone. “Officer, I’d better explain. I’ve no wish to put myself on the wrong side of the law. It’s just that our whole business is founded on good faith, respecting the confidence of clients. To reveal the name of a potential buyer would be ruinous to our reputation. It might mean losing not merely the account in question, but numbers of others when they learn that trust has been broken.”

“So who is it?” Diamond said.

“Weren’t you listening? I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Carry on like this, my friend, and you won’t be at liberty, full stop.”

The man was shaken, but he wasn’t about to cough. “I don’t see why you need to know it.”

“That’s pretty obvious, I would have thought,” Diamond said, his patience exhausted. “There were two bidders left in this auction and one was murdered. The survivor has some explaining to do.”

“But the people who killed him weren’t bidding.”

“We don’t know who they were acting for.”

“Can’t you take my word as a gentleman that it’s impossible for my client to have been involved?”

Diamond shook his head.

“This is beyond a joke,” Sturgess said. “May I make a phone call?”

“To tip off your client?”

This was received with an icy stare. “To my office, to explain the impossible position I find myself in.”

“Go ahead. I’ll be listening.” He could see this nonsense going on indefinitely, and he reckoned Sturgess was a minor player.

Whoever was on the other end of the call took some convincing, but Sturgess was a man in a fix, explaining that he was facing arrest, with all the damage that would do to the good name of the firm. Finally, he switched off, pulled at his tie as if it was strangling him, and said, “This must be in the strictest confidence.”

Diamond waited.

Sturgess glanced to right and left before saying in little more than a whisper, “I was bidding on behalf of …” He mouthed the words.

“Come again.”

As if he was in breach of the Official Secrets Act, he put his mouth within six inches of Diamond’s ear and said, “The British Museum.”

A moment was needed to absorb this. “Yes?” Diamond said.

“Yes.”

“I hadn’t thought of them.”

“Now do you see my difficulty?”

“I suppose they would have an interest.”

“Please keep your voice down. If it got out, all manner of complications would arise.”

“But the sale didn’t take place.”

“We still represent them. And the tablet may come up for sale again.”

“Not for some time, it won’t.”

“We wouldn’t want to alert the other great museums of the world. And we wouldn’t want to be pushed to some exorbitant price by someone acting for the seller. Or the auction house.”

“Does that happen?”

“It’s not unknown in the provinces. They call it bouncing a bid against the wall. They artificially inflate the bidding.”

“On the assumption that someone will go higher?”

“Or has unlimited resources.”

“How much would the British Museum have gone to?”

The eyes opened wide in shock. “I’m absolutely not authorised to tell you.”

This time Diamond didn’t press. He’d asked out of curiosity, no more. “But you would have won eventually?”

“I assume so.”

Diamond was deflated. He’d begun to believe all the secrecy was about shielding some sinister Mr. Big, an oil-rich Russian with mafia connections, or an African dictator with blood money to bury in objects of art. “So what can you tell me about Professor Gildersleeve? Would he have been bidding on his own account?”

“I can’t say for certain, but from his whole demeanour I gathered this was a personal matter, as if he was on some sort of mission to own the tablet. It became so obvious that I almost felt guilty topping his bids. He couldn’t have known he was up against one of the great institutions of the world.”

“And do you know of any other parties with an interest?”

“Obviously America and Japan, who were bidding by phone, but they stopped at ten thousand.”

“I mean was there any hint of other interest before the auction?”

“I heard of none, but the sale was widely publicised in academic circles.”

“Were you tipped off that Gildersleeve was a bidder?”

“No.”

“You seem to know all about him.”

“Only by reputation. I did my homework before coming here. When they identified him as the man who was shot, I recognised the name. He’s the author of several books on Chaucer.”

“Could he have been bidding for some rival museum?”

“I doubt it. My firm belief is that his interest was personal, which is why he challenged the gunmen.”

“Makes sense,” Diamond said. “Did you get a good look at them?”

“No more than anyone else.”

“Did you notice the one who first produced the gun?”

“I was far too caught up in the auction to notice anyone except Professor Gildersleeve. Your attention is all on the rival bidder and the auctioneer.”

Understandable. Diamond glanced across the room, his thoughts moving on. He’d got what he needed from Sturgess. “Unless there’s something else you can tell me, I have no further questions.”

Sturgess didn’t need any more encouragement to move off fast.

Diamond called Bath Central and asked if there was any progress tracking the getaway van. A world-weary voice told him nothing had been reported and without a registration number or even the make, he shouldn’t get his hopes up. They couldn’t do hard stops on all the silver vans across the city. Maybe if it had been stolen they would find it abandoned later. Professional robbers generally arrange for a car change along the escape route.

All down to CID, then, he told himself. What’s new?

In the far corner of the auction room, several of the team were at work interviewing witnesses. They had commandeered some elegant chairs and small tables that could have been Chippendale or Sheraton for all he knew. DI John Leaman and DC Paul Gilbert had joined Ingeborg and appeared to be getting through at a good rate.

He went over.

“Any description worth having?” he asked Ingeborg when she’d finished with her latest.

“Zilch so far, guv,” she told him. “Everyone remembers what the villains were wearing and not much else.”

“The balaclavas.”

“And the T-shirts and jeans.”

He stood with arms folded, listening to the latest witness. Ingeborg was good at this, cutting through any useless prattle to get to the real point of the interview and doing it with charm and precision. But she wasn’t getting much for her efforts.

It was Paul Gilbert who summoned Diamond by tilting the chair away from the table and saying, “Guv, I think you should hear this.”

His witness was a small, sharp-featured woman in her fifties with hair streaked red and green and makeup that was meant to tone but hadn’t.

“This is Miss, em …” Gilbert paused to look at his notes.

“It doesn’t matter a hoot,” the woman said. “Everyone calls me the glass lady.”

“Alice Topham,” Gilbert read out. “From Brighton.”

“Long way to come,” Diamond said.

“I go to all the sales,” Miss Topham said. “There’s always glass worth buying. Some of the best lots still hadn’t been reached when the interruption came. I suppose I’ll have to wait for another day. But I want it on record that I was the successful bidder for the Jubilee Commemoration dish. In all this chaos, things could easily go astray.”

“Tell Mr. Diamond what you were saying about the man who stopped the auction,” Gilbert said.

“Him?” she said with distaste. “It was my bad luck to be right behind him. He was annoying me because he wouldn’t keep still, blocking my view. Twitchy, checking his pockets. You don’t want movement in an auction. All I could see half the time was the back of his neck. This was before he pulled the mask over his head.”

Gilbert prompted her again. “But what did you tell me about it?”

“The hairline was uneven. Some kind of scar had stopped it from growing normally.”

“This is helpful,” Diamond said. “Was there a shape to the scar?”

“It was roughly circular and concave, like a little crater on
the moon, if you follow me. I expect he’d had a carbuncle removed at one time.”

“How big?”

“No more than that.” She made a shape with her thumb and forefinger about the size of a penny. “Most people wouldn’t notice, but I have an eye for detail. It’s my business, you see.”

“Do you remember anything else about him?”