a message radioed to all units. He wanted Jessica Shaw brought in. She might be heading away from Bath in a new white Peugeot 306. He gave the registration.
Back at Manvers Street, AJ. was waiting in an interview room, stroking the fresh Band-Aid on his hand. He had recovered his composure enough to tell Diamond, 'I don't know what the fuck this is about. You're going to pay for this.'
'Save it.' Diamond ignored him, and fiddled with something on the desk. His cackhandedness defeated him. 'Someone's got to get this bloody contraption working for me.' He walked out again.
A further twenty minutes passed before he came back with a sergeant, who attended to the tape recorder. 'You'll have to wait, squire,' Diamond now informed AJ. 'They're bringing in Mrs. Shaw. Like I thought, she was heading out of town in the car.' He grinned. 'Luckily, there's still one hell of a snarl-up on the London Road.'
He went down to the canteen for sausages, eggs, and chips. It was half a lifetime since he'd eaten. Casting around for a vacant table, he glimpsed a large mustache topped by a pair of tired, red-lidded eyes. Eyes that made contact. John Wigfull gestured to him to come over. Difficult to ignore. Promising himself that he would soon escape, he carried his tray across.
Wigfull actually came to life and pulled out a chair. 'You've cracked it, I hear. Pulled in Mrs. Shaw and her boyfriend.'
'I really need this,' said Diamond. 'Haven't eaten since breakfast, and that was cold toast and marmalade.'
'Letting them stew, are you? Want some brown sauce?' Wigfull glanced around for some, but Diamond didn't seem to care. He had already started eating. 'It did cross my mind more than once that two people had to be involved.' Wigfull was clearly expecting a rundown on the case. 'And when Darby was strung from the bridge, it really had to be them working together.'
Diamond spoke between mouthfuls. 'Wise after the event, John?'
'No. I don't mind admitting I was confused up to that point. But the hanging clinched it, to my mind. Just about impossible for one person to hang a man. You'd have to be exceptionally strong-or the victim feeble. And this plot was always too complex to have been masterminded by one individual. They're an odd pair, those two. Too clever by half. Milking the old lady's bank account, weren't they?'
A nod from Diamond- 'That's how the art gallery kept going.'
'And the smart new Peugeot she was driving?'
'I expect so.'
'Surprising, really, that the husband didn't object.'
'To the gallery being funded like that? He didn't mind.' Against his inclination, Diamond found himself being drawn into a dissection of the case. 'To Barnaby, A.J. was just a third-rate artist with a private income. If he wanted to throw money at Jessica, fair enough.'
'I meant the relationship,' Wigfull explained. 'Why didn't he object to A.J. screwing his wife?'
'Because it wasn't happening. This is the whole point. They aren't lovers. Barnaby convinced me of that. Intellectual flirting, he calls it.'
'Get away,' said Wigfull.
'Straight up. Their relationship is nonsexual. They got their kicks in other ways. The courtship display stops short of the act itself. These two are games players. That's their turn-on. It's like a grown-up version of truth, kiss, or dare, ultimately leading to destruction. The crimes arose out of A.J.'s need to impress her. He's given her most of the money he creamed off from Miss Chilmark, but that wasn't enough. He planned a spectacular stunt.'
'Stealing the Penny Black and having it turn up at the Bloodhounds' meeting? That was spectacular, no question. It proved he was smarter than any of them. The riddles. The business with the padlocks. Bloody clever.'
'Yes, but it went wrong,' said Diamond. 'He didn't reckon with Sid. Here was a bloke who was a Dickson Carr buff with an interest in locked room puzzles, so naturally he was fascinated by what had happened. He drove out to look at the narrowboat and came along the towpath while AJ. was in the act of replacing the padlock. I think AJ. heard him coming and hid inside the cabin, grabbing a windlass for a weapon. Everything had worked brilliantly up to then. He'd almost got away with a perfect crime. He was angry and scared at the same time, and he panicked. He cracked Sid over the head, probably meaning to knock him out, no more, but it killed him. You can never tell with skulls until you give them a bash.' He forked up some more chips. 'And everything after that was done to cover up.'
Wigfull had been over that scene a thousand times in his mind and never pictured it so vividly before. He tried to sound casual. 'So when did Jessica come into it?'
'After Sid was killed. She suspected AJ. was responsible, and she didn't want us to find out. With luck, he'd get away with it. There was a chance that everyone would assume Sid had stolen the stamp and staged the locked room trick.'
'And we did,' said Wigfull.
'Well, it fitted the facts. After all, he was the Dickson Carr expert, and he had plenty to prove to that lot who thought him thick because he didn't ever have much to say for himself. This theory was an ideal cover for A.J. It meant anyone at all- not just someone in the know-could have been on the tow-path that night and attacked Sid. Tidy. It let A.J. off the hook. And then the writing on the paper bag seemed to confirm that Sid had written the riddles.'
'Jessica did that.'
'Yes. She admitted it to me. She was covering up for A.J. To be fair, I don't think he'd told her anything. She's not slow, that woman. She worked out that he'd done it. Later it all began to unravel, of course. So Plan B was devised to frame Rupert and fake his suicide.'
'They were both in on that?'
'By this time, yes. This killing was not accidental. It was planned in cold blood. They staged the graffiti incident, making sure Rupert was well sprayed first. It was simple to surprise him coming out of his local. A.J. must have done that. Rupert hadn't met him.'
'Fair enough,' said Wigfull, 'but what about the message-' She did for Sid? Why on earth would they draw attention to their own guilt?'
'First, it wasn't true. She didn't do for Sid. A.J. did. Second, if anything went wrong, who would suspect that they wrote up the message themselves?'
'And they got Rupert tanked up the next night and hanged him?'
'After writing another riddle supposedly by Rupert, predicting his suicide. Case closed. End of story.'
'So they hoped,' Wigfull said, and sighed. 'You're good, Peter. I've got to admit you're better than I am.'
'Yes,' said Diamond abstractedly, glancing at the clock. He'd practically finished the snack. A portion or two of treacle pudding would go down a treat. Very soon he would start the first interview. He was hoping Wigfull would take the hint and leave. A couple of minutes alone would be nice. With any luck, Julie would be back from the Sports and Leisure Center by now. She ought to be in on the interviews.
But Wigfull still had something on his mind, 'What about this character, A.J.? Is he really Miss Chilmark's long-lost son?'
'She seems to think so,' Diamond said, making it clear that his mind was on other things.
'If he isn't, and it's all a con, he ought to be done for that as well as murder.'
'Maybe.'
'Well?'
Diamond said irritably, 'Well what?'
'Is he the son, or isn't he?'
'Most probably not. It's a side issue.'
'Could he have conned Miss Chilmark?'
'Easily. It was part of the arrangement when the child was given away that she wasn't told the name of the parents or the child. Anyone of approximately the right age could have knocked on her door and claimed to be the son if-and it's a big 'if-they knew the story.'
'Why does he call himself A.J.?'
'Doesn't like the name he was given. Ambrose Jason Smith. It is quite a mouthful. At one time…' His voice trailed away. He really didn't want to prolong this.
