‘Shall I tell him to report to you, sir?’ the operator asked.
‘Absolutely not.’ There were ways of doing things and Diamond’s way was not to announce them ahead of time.
He turned his attention to the other authorised firearms officer of potential interest, PC Gaunt. But it turned out that Gaunt couldn’t possibly have murdered Harry Tasker. On Saturday afternoon his wife had gone into labour and at 3:20 P.M. in the Royal United Hospital he’d become the proud father of twin girls. Under the Partners Staying Overnight scheme, he’d taken up night duty of another kind, in the maternity unit until 9 A.M. on Sunday.
Diamond was waiting for Stillman when he drove into the yard where the police vehicles parked.
The sergeant turned as pale as his shirt. ‘Something up, sir?’
‘It is if you insist on calling me “sir”. A few things need clearing up. We can do it in one of the interview rooms. Saves going upstairs to my office.’
The eyes showed Stillman didn’t fancy being treated like a suspect. ‘I don’t mind the stairs.’
‘But I do,’ Diamond said, pointing to the stick. He could be informal and still assert his authority.
They used interview room 2. No caution, no tape running, but not lacking in tension, and Diamond’s first question didn’t lessen it.
‘How well did you know Harry Tasker?’
Stillman blinked rapidly several times. ‘Quite well, I suppose. He’d been around a long time and so had I.’
‘What did you make of him? Nice guy?’
‘He was okay.’ Not a thumping endorsement.
‘You can be frank,’ Diamond said, picking up on the lack of enthusiasm. ‘It’s not easy to speak ill of the dead, especially after what happened, but we’re on a murder investigation here. I’m looking for honest impressions of the man.’
‘There isn’t much I can say. We didn’t have a lot in common.’
‘Was he good at the job?’
Stillman hesitated. ‘He put in the hours all right.’
‘Not always the same thing.’
‘I meant he didn’t skive off, like some do.’
‘This isn’t a test of your loyalty, sergeant. If there was a problem with the man, I need to know. I’m sensing something wasn’t right.’
‘I wouldn’t call it a problem.’
‘What did it amount to?’
‘Nothing more than gossip, really.’
‘From him?’
‘About him.’ Stillman had an expressive face, and the mental anguish was spreading over his features like spilt paint.
‘Come on.’
‘Harry didn’t take kindly to change. If someone called in sick and the beats had to be rearranged, he wasn’t at all happy. He liked to be given his duties for the week and stick to them. He kicked up so much that we tended to ask other people to switch.’
‘What was the gossip you mentioned?’
A downward look. He drew a line along the table with his finger as if to tell himself that he’d already said too much about his dead colleague.
Diamond wasn’t stopping there. Tittle-tattle it may be, but it was going to come out. The stakes were too serious for reticence. He sat back with arms folded and insisted with his eyes.
In a battle of wills, Stillman was always going to lose. ‘No one ever proved it, but they said he made arrangements.’
‘Arrangements?’
‘Meeting certain people.’ Stillman looked away. ‘This is all speculation.’
‘He was on the take?’
‘That’s what the whisper was, but we weren’t sure how, or who was involved, or how much.’
If true, this was a new and depressing sidelight on the murder victim. Every police force has its bad apples. How galling if Harry Tasker, hailed everywhere as the brave victim of the sniper, had been rotten to the core.
‘Let me try and get this clear,’ Diamond said as if he wasn’t used to plumbing depths like this. ‘You’re saying some of his fellow officers suspected he was using his official position to solicit bribes.’
The last word was too strong for Stillman. ‘I wouldn’t go as far as that. Like I said, it was only talk. There wasn’t any proof.’
‘Didn’t anyone investigate while he was alive?’
‘It never got that serious. I mean, it could have been nothing more than turning a blind eye to under-age drinking in return for an occasional pint.’
‘Equally it could have been taking backhanders from drug dealers.’
‘Or nothing at all, Mr. Diamond. It could be just innuendo. I’m uncomfortable with this.’
‘So am I. Let’s continue.’ For the present, he chose to say nothing about someone of sergeant rank who knew of the gossip and failed to act on it. ‘We’ll turn to the events of last Sunday morning. You were on patrol in your car when the all-units call came that there was a shooting in Walcot Street. Is that right?’
Stillman’s voice showed he was relieved to move on, even at the cost of having his own conduct examined. ‘I was keeping an eye on a group of youths in Corn Street. It didn’t take me long to answer the shout. I wasn’t the first, but I was at the scene before the first ambulance.’
‘You were alone in the car?’
The spasm of blinking afflicted him again. ‘Er, that’s correct.’
‘Didn’t you have an oppo?’
‘I did not.’
‘That’s the norm on patrol. Why were you alone?’
‘My partner had to finish early. A domestic problem. I’m experienced. I can cope with most situations.’
‘Who was he?’
‘My partner? I’d rather not say.’
‘You’re not getting the option, sergeant.’
He shook his head.
‘The name,’ Diamond said.
Stillman fingered the back of his neck. ‘He’s a good guy. We’ve done a lot together. I really don’t want to drop him in it. It has no bearing on what happened after.’
‘I can easily find out.’
He sighed. ‘His name is Charlie Hunt. He was with me most of the night. We did the usual Saturday night stuff around the clubs and pubs. After the nightclubs emptied it went quiet like it always does. The thing is, Charlie’s a married man and his wife is disabled. She has one of those horrible wasting diseases. She needs a lot of attention and doesn’t like being alone in the house at night. I dropped him off somewhere near and I was aiming to finish the turn alone.’
‘Have you done this before?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s not right, I know, guv, but can you overlook it on this occasion?’
‘I’ll still need to speak to him.’
‘Why?’
‘To verify what you just told me. It’s for your benefit. You see, until and unless Ken Lockton comes out of his coma, there’s no corroboration for your version of events.’
Stillman said after a long pause, ‘Don’t you believe me?’
‘You’re an authorised firearms officer. Is that correct?’
More frantic blinking. ‘You don’t seriously think I’m the sniper?’
‘I have a duty to keep an open mind about everyone, even a serving officer with a blameless record.’
Abruptly the eyes opened wide in a horrified stare. ‘I couldn’t have shot him. I was in Corn Street when it happened.’
