“Right.” Diamond’s mood improved; with a return to London looming, any delay in the unraveling of the mystery was to be welcomed. “Picture it, Julie. He’s back at the house with Britt, right?”
“This is the night of the murder?”
“Yes. They’ve had a pleasant meal and he thinks he’s been invited back for some action. But instead, she has chosen this moment to hit him with her evidence about the Iraqis he was enrolling. It’s a setup. He said to me last night that he reckoned she was taping the conversation. Of course she was! She was a smart journalist collecting evidence. We know she used tapes in her work. She had two recorders, one of those heavy-duty things that you stack up in your living room-”
“A music center?”
“Right. And a neat little Japanese thing dinky enough to fit into a pocket or a handbag. After the murder we carted off boxes of her stuff, including tapes. The question is what happened to the Mountjoy tape?”
“If one existed,” said Julie.
“You can bet your life it existed.”
“I’ve been through the inventory of her material,” she said. “She was very well organized. There were upwards of fifty cassettes, every one dated and labeled, but nothing for the date of the murder. I’m sure I would have noticed.”
“The only person with an interest in possessing such a tape would be Mountjoy himself.”
“Unless it was still recording when the murder took place,” said Julie.
Diamond stared at her and snapped his fingers. “Brilliant! The killer may have taken it.”
“Cool-after killing someone, to check the tape recorder.”
“Very.”
“Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“… he had the opportunity to collect it later.”
He stared out across the Square. “We’re back to Billington.” The disappointment was clear in his voice. “He was the one on the scene.”
Nothing was said for some time.
Finally, Julie spoke. “You don’t want Billington to be proved the killer, do you?”
“It’s so obvious. Why didn’t I pay him more attention at the time?”
“Because of his alibi, you told me. Any news of his condition?”
“I phoned the hospital first thing this morning. He’s improving slowly, but they don’t think he’s capable of answering questions yet. Meanwhile if we could find that missing tape in his house-”
“Won’t he have destroyed it by now-or just erased the recording? I certainly would.”
“The chances are that he did,” Diamond agreed, but with reluctance.
“Should we search the house, just the same?”
“Without a warrant?”
“To examine the scene of yesterday’s assault.”
Julie was giving top value for her muesli breakfast.
He grinned. “Let’s do that.”
Realistic about his own limitations, Diamond assigned Julie to conduct the search of the Billingtons’ house unaided. As a constitutionally clumsy man, in a search he was more likely to destroy clues than find them. Instead, he resolved to find out more about Britt Strand’s investigative journalism. Interviewing was his forte. He drove to Steeple Ashton.
In time for elevenses.
The cottage was rich with the aroma of two fruit cakes recently out of the oven. The bounteous Prue Shorter explained that they were destined to be tiers of a wedding cake, and if Diamond didn’t mind having the trimmings that had overlapped the tins, there were plenty of crisp bits to sample.
She made coffee and handed him a well-filled plate. “How’s the finger?” she enquired.
“Finger?”
“Was it a thumb, then?”
“Ah-my bee sting.” He glanced down at his hand. “The agony I put up with! I’d forgotten all about it, so it must be all right.”
“And you haven’t found that convict yet? He isn’t here, you know.”
“No, he’s someone else’s job. I’m still tidying up the facts about your former colleague.”
“Britt? I told you all I know, ducky.”
“You won’t have heard that her former landlord is in hospital after a fracas with his wife.”
“He’s in hospital?”
“She cracked him over the head with a bagful of coins and now she’s accused him of murdering Britt.”
“God Almighty!” She gave a huge, wheezy laugh and took a seat opposite Diamond at the kitchen table.
Cutting the merriment short, he broached the main business of his visit. “You called at the house a few times, I believe. Did you meet the Billingtons?”
She was shaking her head, not as a response, but a reaction to the latest twist in the Britt Strand saga. “Did I meet them? Yes, miserable buggers, both of them. Nary a smile between them. You pass the time of day and they treat it as a personal insult.”
“They remember you calling. At least, she does.”
“I don’t exactly merge into the background, do I?”
“So you didn’t have much conversation?”
“In a word, zilch.”
“I’m interested to know what Britt had to say about them, if anything. The man in particular.”
“Him? Silly old tosser! He fancied her, of course. Tell me a man who didn’t. She told me he used to chat her up, or try to, when his wife wasn’t about. Gave her the odd present. Is he really under suspicion?”
“Did he ever try anything?” Diamond persevered.
“You mean with Britt?”
What else did she think he meant? “Yes.”
She paused before replying. “Who knows? I didn’t know her that well. There were other men, weren’t there? It came out at the trial. She wasn’t unapproachable, but I think she’d draw the line at old Billington. She could do better than that. Are you married, Mr. Diamond?”
Annoyingly, he felt himself go pink. “As a matter of fact, I am,” he told her in a shirty tone.
“Kids?”
“No. Is this of any relevance?”
“I’m just interested. You don’t wear a ring, I notice.”
“Maybe you should be doing my job.” He recovered his poise. “You don’t wear one either.”
“That doesn’t mean a thing these days, ducky,” she said with a laugh that was more guarded than usual.
“But you were married once?”
She nodded. “It’s an unfair world, isn’t it? You probably wanted a kid and I got mine through a slipup. The father did the decent thing, as they say, and it lasted just over a year.”
“Did he get custody?”
“No. Johnny was happy for me to keep her, because he was clearing off to Northern Ireland.” She gave a belly laugh. “He’s been stuck in Belfast with his mother and the troubles since 1982, and the best of luck. Men? You can keep them. I went back to my maiden name. Why should I put up with his for the rest of my life?”
“So you became-what’s the current expression?-a lone parent.”
She hesitated and her tone of voice altered. “I won’t pretend it was easy, but if I could have the time back, I would. Sometimes I’m asked to make birthday cakes for other people’s kids. I usually shed a few tears.”
“And now?” said Diamond, to steer the conversation back to a less distressing topic.
“Now?”
“Is there anyone else?”
She said sharply, “If you’re about to ask me if I’m a dyke, save your breath. I saw it in your eyes the first time you came here. Just because I don’t diet or wear pretty clothes, it doesn’t mean I was always built like a