last night.’
The nitpicking Inspector Leaman was ideal for that job. If the bag was lying anywhere, John would find it. ‘Okay. By the end of the morning we may be able to put this case to bed. The evidence is stacking up that Denise used the caustic soda on Clarion and killed herself when she realised the full extent of her action. Any ideas why?’
‘Why she wanted to maim Clarion?’ Ingeborg said. ‘Can we agree it couldn’t have been a mistake?’
‘The intent is clear,’ Dawkins said. ‘Malice aforethought.’
The phrase conjured a momentary image of Fred as a judge. With his ponderous delivery he’d be well suited. Ermine would have looked better on him than black leather. ‘It’s not a particularly intelligent crime, is it?’ Diamond said. ‘Anyone could work out who did it.’
‘Angry people lose all sense of proportion,’ Ingeborg said. ‘We don’t know her motive. She may have been at her wits’ end, wanting to stop Clarion.’
‘But why?’
‘God knows what went on between them. Denise had worked there as a dresser for six years. She was under instructions to nursemaid Clarion. She may have felt her effort wasn’t appreciated. Clarion is used to people idolising her.’
‘A lot of actors are prima donnas,’ Dawkins said. ‘A dresser would be able to cope with that.’
‘Yes, but most actors are good at what they do. They’re entitled to some respect. Clarion was no good in the role and still wanted the star treatment.’
‘Allow me to propose another motive, then.’
A sigh. Tolerant as she was, even Ingeborg showed signs of losing her patience. ‘Go on.’
‘It requires an open mind.’
‘We can manage that, I hope,’ Diamond said, exchanging a look with Ingeborg.
Dawkins said in slow time, as if addressing a jury, ‘By sabotaging Clarion just before she went on she was doing her a good turn, saving her from a mauling from the critics.’
‘Saving the theatre, too,’ Diamond said and admitted, ‘That’s not bad, Fred.’
Ingeborg shook her head. ‘No woman behaves like that, deliberately damaging someone’s face as a so-called good turn.’
‘We’re assuming she didn’t expect the stuff to leave permanent scars,’ Diamond said. ‘When it happened, and she realised the theatre could be sued, she was devastated.’
‘Driven beyond all,’ Dawkins added in a sepulchral tone.
Ingeborg shook her head. ‘You guys need to get out more.’
The call from Mike Glazebrook came soon after eleven. Diamond wouldn’t have known the voice, but it didn’t take long for the two to convince each other that they were the former princes in the Tower. ‘And you’re a detective,’ Glazebrook said. ‘I think I know what this is about.’
‘I’ll be surprised if you do,’ Diamond said. ‘Anyway, what’s your line of work?’
‘Surveying and structural engineering. I look at old buildings and assess their safety. I’m often in Bath, as it happens. We have the contract for the Abbey.’
‘And where are you now?’
‘Finishing off a job in Lacock. If you’d care to meet, I could see you this afternoon, say in front of the Abbey about three? It’s on my way home.’
‘How will I recognise you after all this time?’
‘Look for the short, fat guy in a pork-pie hat.’
At the theatre, DI John Leaman failed to find the missing handbag. Kate in wardrobe gave him a description – a shoulder bag in pale calf hide about the size and shape of an A4 filing wallet. She also allowed him to search the wardrobe room. The disruption of her overstocked headquarters must have horrified her, but she took it without complaint. Leaman didn’t do things by halves. He upset a few others backstage as well by insisting on being admitted to every room in the entire complex. The actors wouldn’t like it when they found out. Dressing rooms are supposed to be sacrosanct. The cast are given their own keys and they bring in their own comforters, ranging from teddy bears to joss sticks to racks of wine to personal friends.
Hedley Shearman demanded to know what the search was all about. ‘Why would she have her handbag with her if she was intent on killing herself?’
‘It wasn’t in the house or her car, so where is it?’ Leaman asked, as if Shearman ought to know.
‘Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t take it,’ the little manager said.
‘Maybe one of your staff did.’
‘I take offence at that. We’re not dishonest here.’
‘I wouldn’t count on it.’ Tact wasn’t John Leaman’s middle name.
Shearman offered to mention the missing bag at a meeting he’d called at noon. Asked about the purpose of the meeting, he said he wanted to give everyone a chance to talk through what had happened and generally to reassure them it was business as usual. ‘Your poking around this morning had the opposite effect,’ he told Leaman. ‘People are behaving as if a crime has taken place, alarmed that they’re coming under suspicion.’
Leaman phoned the police station and told Diamond about the meeting.
‘I’ll come,’ Diamond said at once without even a thought about his aversion. This opportunity couldn’t be
