Diamond Dust

people dismiss it as a car backfiring. If they know it's a gun they head in the opposite direction. He stood over the covered corpse. 'What am I waiting for - someone to introduce us?'

Halliwell stooped and lifted the sheet from the head.

Diamond ran an experienced glance over the blanched face, one blood-red hole almost exactly in the centre of the forehead and another in front of the left ear. Then he stared. His skin prickled and his muscles went rigid as if volts were passing through them.

From deep in his throat came a sound more like a vomit than distress. He sank to his knees and snatched back the plastic sheet and looked at the woman's clothes. No question: she was wearing the black Burberry raincoat she'd bought from Jolly's last summer and the blue silk square he'd given her on her last birthday. He fingered a strand of her hair and it felt like straw. 'It's Steph,' he said, gagging on the words. 'The bastards have shot my wife.'

4

Halliwell was speaking into his mobile. 'We have a positive ID on the body in Crescent Gardens. Confirmed as Mrs Stephanie Diamond, wife of Detective Superintendent Diamond. I repeat. . .'

Diamond remained on his knees beside his dead wife, registering nothing of what was going on around him. This was not self-pity. The focus of his grief was entirely on Steph, and her life so abruptly ended. Dry-eyed and blank-faced, he was weeping inwardly for her, for her compassion, her wisdom, her sense of humour, her integrity, her serenity, her mental strength, her brilliant insights. It had been almost a psychic gift, that ability of hers to draw his attention to hidden truths. With uncanny timing, she had reminded him only the night before how he hated surprises. Here was the worst surprise ever. He hadn't remotely imagined it could happen. Had she? Without the faintest idea of why she had come to this place, he wasn't going to make sense of it now, or in the next hour, or the next day. He knew only that Steph had been the one love of his life and she had been shot through the head at point-blank range. Too dreadful.

Halliwell put a hand on his shoulder and suggested he sat in the car for a bit.

He said from the depths of his grief, 'Back off.'

Wisely, Halliwell did.

The SOCOs continued their fingertip search of the area, less talkative now. Professionals working at murder scenes often insulate themselves from the horror with black humour that might offend anyone unused to what goes on. Diamond was quite a joker himself. No sign of the weapon - apart from two holes in the head. Trust him to make a crass remark like that. Since word had passed round that she was his own wife, the jesting had stopped.

The police photographers (a civilian couple) arrived and Halliwell explained the situation. 'Hang on a minute, and I think he'll move away.'

They waited five minutes.

'Can't you tell him we're here?' the woman said. 'He knows the routine as well as anyone.'

'He's not functioning as a cop at the moment.'

'Who's in charge, then? You?'

'Technically, Mr Diamond is, but . . .'

They looked across. Still the big man knelt, hunched beside his dead wife. 'How long has he been there?'

'Ten, fifteen minutes. It's one hell of a shock.'

'Was he the first officer on the scene, then?'

'No, I was.'

'Didn't you warn him?'

Halliwell reddened. 'I didn't recognise her. I should have, because I've met her a couple of times. I didn't look at her as you would a living person. Saw the injuries and shut myself off from the victim. Your mind is on what happened and what has to be done. Didn't dream it's someone I know.'

'He's got to move away if we're going to get our pictures.'

'All right, all right.'

Halliwell went back to his boss and explained about the photographers. Diamond didn't take in one word of it. He was holding his dead wife's hand, cradling it between both of his.

Halliwell tried again. 'They've got to get their pictures, guv.'

Nothing.

'The photos of the scene.'

He wasn't listening. The police and their procedures were part of another existence.

Halliwell turned away and went back to the photographers. 'I can't shift him.'

'Someone's going to have to.'

'You can wait, can't you?'

The woman made a performance of looking at her watch. 'We're self-employed, you know.'

'Bollocks.' Halliwell stepped away from them and took a call on his mobile.

It was Georgina, the ACC. 'Is this true - about Mr Diamond's wife?'

'I'm afraid so, ma'am. He's here at the scene.'