Diamond Dust

that must have shattered any breakable contents.

He was out cold, blood oozing from one side of his mouth.

Satisfying as it was, the blow had solved nothing. The encounter was over. Nothing useful had come of it.

Diamond walked out and slammed the door.

19

At the end of the week, he went to see McGarvie again.

'My wife's letters.'

'Ah.'

'You said you'd return them.'

'I did. And they're here.' McGarvie took some keys from his pocket.

What kind of man keeps his desk locked all day? Diamond thought. It doesn't demonstrate much trust in the rest of the team.

Steph's shoebox of old letters was pushed across the desk to him, together with a polythene bag filled with the invoices and assorted papers the search party had taken from her drawer.

'I expect you want me to sign for these.'

'If you please.' The sarcasm fell flat. McGarvie actually had a chitty ready. 'And there's something else.' He delved into the drawer again.

'What's that?'

Diamond was handed another polythene bag containing a single brown envelope. He was amazed to see his name on it, just the word Peter - amazed because it was written in Steph's hand.

'You can open it.'

'Seeing that it's addressed to me, I should think so.'

'I mean it's safe to handle.'

What did McGarvie think it was, then - a letter bomb? Steph taking revenge on her killer husband from beyond the grave?

'We've carried out the necessary tests.'

'Tests? What for?'

'Prints. Handwriting.'

'I mean why?'

'You haven't seen this letter before?'

Diamond frowned. 'Is that a trick question? No, I haven't. Was it with the others?'

'We found it in the biscuit tin.'

His heart pumped faster. 'What - the one the gun was buried in?'

'That's the only biscuit tin we've got.'

So Steph had written him a message. 'You didn't tell me,' he said, outraged. 'Why wasn't I told?'

'You'd better read it.'

Diamond unzipped the wrapper, took out the envelope and found a single sheet inside. In Steph's tidy handwriting was written:

My dear Peter,

Just in case you find this before I have the pluck to tell you, I had to brave it out with the spiders in the loft to look for my old violin, which I'd promised to give to the shop since I haven't played it for years — and I found the gun. It was a great shock, Pete. You know my feelings about guns. I left it there for a week, telling myself I would talk to you about it, and I kept putting it off not wanting to cause an upset while you were so stretched on this dreadful Carpenter case.

I know you '11 insist the gun was there for some good reason, but the knowledge that a weapon that could kill someone is in our home has been preying on my nerves. Please try to understand. Rather than creating a scene and making us both feel guilty I decided to bury it and tell you when you 're not under so much strain.

Your loving

Steph

He read it twice before asking McGarvie, 'Why wasn't I told about this?'

'My decision.'

'I know that.'

'It could have been a forgery.'