‘You’re wicked.’
They went downstairs and bought drinks in the crush bar and took in some fresh air by one of the exit doors. ‘What was that all about when we arrived?’ he said.
‘The photography? It’s just a publicity stunt, I imagine,’ Paloma said. ‘They want to get something in the Chronicle about a real inspector calling. No harm in it, is there?’
‘Someone at the nick should have warned me.’
‘That would have spoilt their fun.’
She was right. He remembered showing the tickets to Leaman. The bastard hadn’t let on. They were all in on it, no doubt.
‘I’m trying to think who Miss Assisi is,’ he said. ‘I can’t place her. She’s the one he spoke to.’
‘I’d leave it if I were you. Think what you’re going to say about the play.’
He swallowed hard. ‘What do you mean?’
‘They’ve got your picture. They’ll want a decent quote to go under it.’
‘The newspaper?’
‘There’s sure to be a reporter waiting for you when we come out and I don’t think we should turn our backs on them. Don’t upset the press. You never know when you might need them.’
Wise words, but now he had a moment of panic. ‘I haven’t been giving a lot of thought to the play.’
‘It’s still unfolding, isn’t it? This inspector is investigating a poor girl’s suicide, or so it appears, and nearly all the characters seemed to contribute in some way. You might want to say that real crimes have to pin the blame on one individual, but here the guilt is spread more widely.’
‘That sounds good. Could you write it down?’
‘Better if you put it in your own words. Mind, I have a feeling that the whole play could swing around in the second half.’
‘I’m not sure if I’m up to this.’
‘You are. Think of your workmates in the police opening their papers and finding you carried it off like a professional critic. A couple of sentences will do it. You’ll have the last laugh.’
He watched the second half as if his career depended on it, paying close attention to Inspector Goole and his domineering presence. There were procedural details that grated, but of course the play was written more than sixty years ago and referred back to a much earlier period, before the first world war. Who knows whether detectives worked alone or in pairs in those days? Anyway, as the tension built and the inspector’s questioning increasingly took a moral tone it became clear that Paloma’s ‘or so it appears’ was a crucial insight. Everything was not as it appeared. This inspector was acting more like a judge than a policeman.
The last line of the play confirmed that something very weird had been going on. The Bath police theatre critic wasn’t sure how to take it, or if it could be explained, or needed to be. Probably not. The story was satisfying in a bigger sense.
‘Clever,’ he said to Paloma over the applause.
‘Terrific,’ she said. ‘Have you thought of what to say?’
‘I’m trying.’
‘That inspector’s an enigma.’
‘I can use that.’
As they came down the steps to the foyer, Fetherington-Steel was at the side, waving. He had a young woman beside him, notebook at the ready. As soon as the introductions were over and she was about to start on her questions, Diamond said, ‘I’ll have to be brief because we have a table booked at Woods, but you don’t need much, do you? A fascinating play, brilliantly done. Inspector Goole wouldn’t last long in the modern police, but then he isn’t modern and he isn’t a policeman. He’s an inspector in a different sense.’
‘What?’ the reporter said. ‘Inspecting the corruption of a society that puts profit and self-interest at the top of its priorities?’
‘You took the words out of my mouth. He’s a wily old fox, but if he was in my squad, I’d keep him in the back room. Will that do?’
‘Couldn’t be better,’ she said. ‘I’ll just get your name and make sure I spell it right.’
In Woods, Paloma said, ‘You socked it to them. You were great.’
‘I forgot to mention the enigma bit.’
‘You didn’t need to. You said it in your own words.’
They ordered and the champagne was brought to the table and uncorked.
‘To the drama critic,’ Paloma said.
‘For one night only.’ They sipped, and he said, ‘It’s odd. Just now I’m investigating suicides in my real job. I go about it rather differently, though. A lot of background stuff, pathologists’ reports and so on.’
‘I expect you talk to the families like he did.’
‘Not exactly like he did, but yes. It’s part of the job. And the relatives aren’t always as you expect them to be. That’s one good thing about my life. I meet all sorts.’
‘I didn’t think suicides needed investigating.’
‘We have to make sure they weren’t homicides.’
‘Oh.’
‘Sorry. Not the best topic for an evening out.’
‘I don’t mind that,’ she said. ‘I’m not squeamish. Police work interests me. I watch a lot of police series on television. It’s more exciting than historic costumes, though I do get excited when I find some illustrations I didn’t know existed.’
‘Where do you find them?’
‘In auctions sometimes. And second-hand bookshops. The ones I like are the really disorganised smelly old shops with cartons filled with stuff they haven’t even bothered to unpack and put a price on. We don’t have any left like that in Bath.’
‘No treasures, then?’
‘Hardly ever. But let’s not talk about work. Are you going to spend the night with me?’
He wasn’t sure how he reacted except that his answer was slow in coming. He hoped he hadn’t gone slack- jawed or turned white.
She’d surprised him totally. The possibility of sex was somewhere in his mind, but after the debacle in her garden he’d not been able to imagine how it would happen. Certainly he hadn’t expected it as a question over dinner. Finally all he could manage was, ‘Wow.’
She smiled. ‘Can I take that as a yes?’
‘A strong yes.’
‘That’s all right, then. We can enjoy our meal without all the stress of wondering what will happen after we leave the restaurant. Now let’s talk about something else. What’s the tie you’re wearing? It looks as if it represents something.’
You had to be mentally agile to keep up with Paloma. He told her about his rugby playing until the starters were served. They talked sport for a while, and over the main course covered holidays abroad (she’d travelled widely) and motoring in Britain. They chose to miss the dessert. He settled the bill and the waiter phoned for their taxi.
During the drive back, Paloma leaned towards him and nestled her head against his shoulder. ‘Did you bring your toothbrush?’
‘I wasn’t that confident,’ he said.
She laughed. ‘I bought you one in Boots this morning.’
In the house when the door was closed, she reached for him and they kissed, tentatively at first, and then as if they meant it.
She picked up a remote control and there was music and they held each other like dancers, swaying rather than taking steps. They kissed again, several times. Then she made coffee and poured liqueurs, hers a creme de menthe, his a brandy.
‘A suggestion,’ she told him. ‘We’re not all that young and let’s face it, we’re not the perfect shape, either of us. Showering together might not be the turn-on we’d like it to be. I’m going upstairs presently. My bedroom is the last door on the left. There’s a shower for you in the room opposite if you want. Let’s meet in my bed with the light
