the process.
She stared defiantly.
“Sam also uses her own name,” he pointed out.
“She’s new to this. She’ll learn-if she survives. It’s bloody disgraceful that you haven’t caught the bloke by now.” Una was more aggressive than the girlish features and plait suggested.
He remarked, “I sense that you’re not comfortable with somebody like me knowing your name.”
“Piss off, copper.”
“By the way you speak, you had a middle-class upbringing and a good education. Were you at university?”
“Listen,” she said. “Whether I went to university doesn’t matter a toss. What are you-trying to relate to me, or something? There are more important things to do, you know.”
“You’ve been living this life for some years, I take it?”
“What do you mean-‘this life’? The squatting? Of course I bloody have, ever since I dropped out of Oxford. Now I’ve told you-I was in college for a year and a bit. Can we move on to some more useful topic, like what you’re going to do about Sam?”
He persisted. “You were living in the Trim Street squat at the time Britt Strand was murdered. I’ve seen your photo.”
She became more defensive. “She wasn’t killed in that house. None of us had anything to do with that.”
“She visited the squat to research an article and have the pictures taken. That was only ten days before she died. How much do you remember about it?”
“Have you got a cigarette?”
He shook his head. “Have to use one of your own.”
She produced a matchbox from her pocket and took out a half-smoked cigarette and a match and lit up. “Britt Strand knew what she wanted and how to get it. She picked up one of the guys in the squat-well, the number one guy really, and got to work on him to soften up the rest of us for this piece she was going to write.”
“You mean G.B.?”
She nodded.
“Another one who prefers to be nameless,” commented Diamond.
“That’s his choice.”
“Fine, but I’m willing to bet he doesn’t have G.B. written on his social security documents.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Were you ever his girl?”
She gave him a glare. “That’s typical of the way you people see us. Just because we lived in the same building it doesn’t mean we screwed. There were other people around, you know. It was a community, right?”
“So nobody minded him bringing this smart Swedish blonde to write up the story of your squat?”
“I wouldn’t say nobody minded, but it was G.B.’s gaff. He staked it out and made sure it was empty.”
“How’s that done?”
“Lots of ways. You slide dry leaves in the slits in the door and check if they’ve moved in a couple of days. You can shove fly posters through the letter box and see if they get picked up. Of course you go back and see if there are lights at night. G.B. did all that. He was the first one in. It was thanks to him we had a place to doss down.”
“G.B. is a bright lad.”
“He’s switched on, but he lost cred with some of us when it was obvious the Swedish bird had him on a string. He really got it bad.”
“How do you know?”
She sighed and glared. “They’d been seen around. There isn’t much you can do in this poky town without everyone knowing about it.”
“But he consulted you all about bringing her to the house, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he told us what she was asking. We talked it through. Some of our crowd didn’t want their faces in the papers. G.B. said the piece Britt was supposed to be writing wasn’t for a British magazine. She was going to sell it abroad, so in the end we agreed. After all, she was willing to pay for it.”
“No one had second thoughts?”
“What do you mean?”
“After the visit, was anyone nervous over what she would write?”
“Like what-getting labeled as scroungers, or something? We’re used to that.”
“Did she ask any personal questions?”
“Not to me.” Una reached for the tin ashtray between them. “What are you driving at? Do you think one of our lot topped her?”
“It’s possible. Maybe-as you said-someone objected to being photographed.”
“If they did, they should have topped the photographer, not the writer.”
“Too late. The pictures were taken,” said Diamond. “The article was never written, so the pictures were never published.”
“Where did you see them?” she asked.
“At the photographer’s. Do you remember Prue Shorter, a large lady?”
She gave a nod, eyed his physique and seemed on the point of saying something, before thinking better of it and putting the cigarette to her lips instead.
“I’ve seen all the shots that were taken that afternoon,” he went on. “Not the kind of stuff you find in glossy magazines. I’ve been trying to work out why Britt was so interested in you lot. There isn’t much glamor in a bunch of crusties and their dogs and a heap of beer cans in a back street in Bath.”
“Some of us cleaned the place up for those pictures,” Una recalled.
“I beg your pardon. But it wasn’t long after the murder that you all moved out, am I right?”
“Not long.”
“Any reason?”
“G.B.,” she said. “Trim Street was his gaff. He got depressed. The entire house was pit city when he was feeling low. There were rows all the time. Some of us couldn’t stand it and shoved off. I must have been in six different gaffs since then.”
“With some of the old crowd?”
“Here and there.”
“G.B. is still about.”
“Yes.” She grinned. “He’s got it made. He’s a cool cat now.”
“You’re not bitter toward him?”
“G.B. is all right.” The words didn’t convey the way she spoke. This was a high compliment.
“A regular guy?”
“Better than that. He could have made us pay. I’ve heard of guys who open up empty houses and act as squat brokers. G.B. never asked for a penny.”
“I think he makes his money pushing drugs,” said Diamond.
She blew out smoke and looked up into the domed roof.
“How about Samantha?” He switched the subject. “When did she move in?”
“To Widcombe Hill? Not so long ago. In the summer. She had a bust-up with her parents. The usual story. She’s younger than I am, hasn’t had the corners knocked off yet, if you know what I mean, but I like Sam. It was bloody irresponsible when the papers printed that stuff about her busking- her old man being in the police and all that.”
“You can’t blame the press for what happened.”
“I can and I do.” Her small mouth tightened so hard that the color drained from her lips.
“You know her,” said Diamond. “How will she stand up to this kidnapping?”
“She’s quite strong mentally. She’ll hold out if she gets the chance. My fear is that this Mountjoy guy will get heavy with her. The asshole has been violent to women before. I remember reading about him after he was sentenced. His marriage broke up through the way he treated his wife. And there was some other woman he beat up.” Una jabbed her cigarette into the ashtray. “You’ve got to find her fast.”
