‘As you wish, Mr Shearman,’ Basil said with dignity, as if he were Gielgud overlooked at an audition.
The eccentric Sergeant Dawkins entered Diamond’s office with a faint smile playing on his lips. ‘You sent for me.’
‘I did. Have a seat.’ Diamond already felt blighted. Whichever way he started with Dawkins, awkwardness took over. ‘You were at the theatre this morning checking on what happened last night. Would you give me a quick rundown?’
‘That depends,’ Dawkins said, looking at the back of his hand as if checking for liver spots.
‘Depends on what?’
‘How quick is quick.’
‘A summary, then. You don’t have to tell me every word.’
‘Nor shall I, ‘Dawkins said, settling into the chair. ‘First of all…’
‘Yes?’
‘First of all, may I be so bold as to ask the subtext.’
‘The what?’
‘The subtext.’
‘You’re losing me.’
‘The hidden agenda.’
‘I don’t know what you’re on about.’
Dawkins gave a broader smile and said nothing.
‘You’re talking in riddles, man,’ Diamond told him. ‘Subtexts and hidden agendas. Explain.’
The sergeant turned to look out of the window, as if the answer might be in the car park below. ‘Powers of observation, analysis, deduction.’
‘You don’t have to make a meal of this. All I want is a short report on what was said. You spoke to the theatre director. Did anything emerge?’
‘Hey ho.’
‘I’m losing my patience, sergeant.’
‘Hey ho, I said.’
‘I heard you.’
‘Hey ho to your question: “Did anything emerge?”’
‘You’re talking like one of the Seven Dwarfs and you’re wasting my time.’
‘Not at all,’ Dawkins said. ‘It was a comment, sir, a compliment, in fact.’
‘I’m not looking for compliments.’
‘Quite so. The “hey ho” should have been silent, a tap of the cue on the snooker table.’
The man was round to snooker now. Diamond despaired of getting any plain statement. Without thinking, he put his hand to his head and tugged at the precious patches of hair he had left. What was the point in trying for straight answers?
‘The hidden agenda,’ Dawkins said, ‘so well disguised.’
Diamond reached into his in-tray, picked up the minutes of a Police Federation meeting and tried blocking out this pointless conversation.
But Dawkins had more to say, and he spoke the words slowly, as if they carried a momentous truth. ‘Put it this way: I can see where you’re coming from.’
‘I wish I could say the same.’
‘The place I’m coming from is the theatre.’
‘We can agree on that,’ Diamond said. ‘So why don’t you tell me in plain words what you found out there?’
‘Because of where you’re coming from.’
Diamond gripped his desk and made one more try. ‘Listen, sergeant. There’s no subtext, as you put it, no hidden agenda. I’m not coming from anywhere. I’m here, face to face with you.’
‘Not coming, but come?’
‘If that makes any difference, yes.’
‘And if my report is satisfactory, may I look forward to going there?’
‘Going where?’
‘Where you’re coming from.’
‘And where is that?’
‘CID.’
That was it. This pain in the arse thought he was being assessed for a plainclothes job. Hell would freeze over
