'Should be here somewhere,' said Diamond, joining in. 'Every bloody item has its own plastic bag and label.'
'I don't see it, do you? Here's a carrier bag.' Julie picked up the packet and read the label. ' 'Waitrose carrier used to contain book, The Three Coffins.' No mention of a brown bag.'
'Come to think of it, he wouldn't fancy using it for his precious book after Miss Chilmark had been hyperventilating into it. Probably binned it.'
'I expect so,' said Julie, continuing to examine the collection. Packaged and labeled like this, anyone's possessions would have looked pathetic. There was about thirty pence in small coins. A five-pound note. A handkerchief. A comb. Two ballpoints. Haifa tube of Polo mints. 'Does it matter?'
'The bag? Only if it's missing,' said Diamond, beginning to question his own assumption. 'Would he have thrown it away, seeing that it came in so useful? Suppose the old dear had another attack. They could have needed it a second time.'
'Unless it got torn.'
'Nothing was said about that. Who held the bag to Miss Chilmark's face?'
'The art gallery owner. Jessica Shaw. She knew what to do.'
'Then I wouldn't mind betting she kept hold of the bag, at least until the meeting ended.'
Julie gave him a long look. He had this way of pursuing to tedium points that seemed trivial. Once in a while this paid a dividend. Still, it was difficult to understand why the fate of a brown paper bag had any importance.
'And the meeting broke up in some disorder after the Penny Black was discovered,' he continued, talking more to himself than Julie. 'She may not have returned the bag to Sid. Well, she couldn't have, or it would be among these things.'
'Unless Sid got rid of it later.'
Diamond didn't think much of that suggestion. 'She could have left it in the crypt, in which case some cleaner will have tidied it up.'
'Or she may have taken it with her.'
'Jessica? Stuffed it into her handbag, you mean?'
'Or a pocket.'
He liked that better. 'Right. We'll ask her now. We'll take a walk to that art gallery she manages.'
'What do I do with all this?' she asked with her hand on the heap of plastic packets.
'Leave it there.'
'Cluttering up my desk? No thanks.'
'You're not a slave to tidiness, are you?'
'But there's money here.'
'This is a police station, Julie. If you can't trust the police..'He spread his hands like the Pope and tried to look as benign.
She gave him a long look, and said, 'It's not your money.'
'Yours neither. Get your coat. We've more important things to do.'
She looked at her watch. 'Can't do it. Sorry.'
'Why not.'
'Actually, I've got an appointment.'
His blood pressure rose several points. She had no business making appointments in police time. 'What's that?'
'The postmortem on Sid Towers. You asked me to go- remember?'
'Ah.' He'd dismissed it from his mind. 'What time?'
'Noon, at the RUH.'
'We can fit this other thing in first. I'll get you there on time, I guarantee.'
'If you say so.' Not for the first time in her dealings with Diamond, Julie showed restraint. She could easily have remarked that if he could drive her to the RUH, it was odd that he was prevented from attending the autopsy himself.
The Walsingham Gallery window was being dressed, and Jessica Shaw was directing, gesturing to a man on the other side of the glass exactly where a painting on an easel should stand. She was engrossed, and so was a small crowd of bystanders, making it difficult for anyone to reach the other end of the narrow, flagstoned passage of Northumberland Place. Jessica seemed to be well aware that this was street entertainment. In a cherry-red woolen dress and with a thick white cardigan draped around her shoulders, she was conspicuous among her audience in their drab padded jackets and wind-cheaters.
'Mrs. Jessica Shaw?'
She didn't even turn to answer Diamond's inquiry, but carried on giving instructions. 'More to the right. The right, the right, the right.'
'Police,' said Diamond. 'CID. This may be inconvenient, but are you Mrs. Shaw?'
'It is inconvenient, yes.'
'And you are Mrs. Shaw?'
'I am. That's it, A.J.! Perfect!'
In a tone of formality amounting almost to a warning, he gave his rank and name and Julie's, too. 'Could we talk to you inside, ma'am?'
'But I have talked,' she said, still staring at her window arrangement. 'I had a sergeant here yesterday and he wrote down everything I said.'
'This is the follow-up.'
She sighed and turned her face to him for the first time. 'And I'm trying to get this ready for a private view this evening. I've got over a hundred people coming. What do you think of it so far?'
'The window? I like it. Not so keen on the picture. Meant to be Avebury, is it?'
'God help us,' said Jessica Shaw. 'What a brutal expression that is. Meant to be. We just have to be grateful the artist isn't here.'
They went inside. AJ. was sent to fetch more pictures and unwrap them. 'I hope this won't take long,' Jessica said to Diamond. 'It's interfering with my livelihood, all this third degree.' She found them chairs at the rear of the shop. 'You want coffee?'
'That's going to delay the questions even more,' Diamond pointed out.
'Not if AJ. makes it. White with how many sugars? Two?'
She'd guessed correctly. 'Thanks. You should be doing my job,' Diamond remarked.
Eyeing his bulk, she commented, 'It's not much of a deduction. And no sugar for you, right?' she said to Julie. She gave the order to AJ. as he shuffled past with a large wrapped painting, then she confided to Diamond, 'AJ. is a brick. It's all voluntary. I don't pay him a cent. I only wish I could sell more of his work.'
'His work?'
'He's an artist.'
'Is that his stuff in the window?'
'Lord, no. I keep him upstairs.'
'Lucky fellow,' said Diamond, then wished he had guarded his tongue. The look he got was all he deserved. She didn't blush, or betray any embarrassment. She simply gave him a cold stare. 'First question,' he said quickly. 'When did you join the Bloodhounds?'
'Last winter. I was one of the last to join, except for the new woman, Shirley-Ann. She's only been a couple of times.'
'So was Sid Towers already a member when you joined?'
'Sid? Yes.'
'Had you met him before?'
'No.'
'Did you know any of them previously?'
'Only Polly Wycherley. I joined at her invitation. She came into the gallery a couple of times toward the end of last year and noticed what I was reading. We discovered we shared an interest in crime fiction, so she told me about the meetings in the crypt. I went along reluctantly. She's a great persuader, is Polly. Have you met her?'
'Not yet.'
