'Assist us,' Diamond said, affecting a pained look. 'We don't want to make any premature assumptions about our professor, do we? He is co-operating to the best of his ability. You're a devious bastard.'
'You're a sarcastic one,' said Wigfull.
Diamond beamed.
When they returned to the interview room, they found Jackman buttoning his cuff, looking less self-assured than he had previously appeared. 'Why did you want my blood?' he asked at once.
'You make me sound like a vampire,' said Diamond. 'I told you. It's standard procedure these days. Have you heard of genetic fingerprinting?'
'Yes, but what does it have to do with me?'
'There were traces of blood on the quilt of your wife's bed.'
'I didn't notice any.'
'They weren't very obvious.'
After a pause that was open to several interpretations, Jackman asked, 'Was she attacked in bed, then?'
'That's impossible to say yet. We don't even know if the blood was her own. There may be a perfectly innocent explanation if she scratched herself accidentally, as we all do from time to time. Or it may be significant. Either way, we won't know this side of next week. The forensic science lab isn't noted for quick results. And if your sample happens to match the bloodstains, I'm sure there's an innocent explanation. We can talk about it now if you want.'
Jackman shook his head. 'We'd be wasting our time.'
'As you wish.' Diamond dropped the address book on the table and they began the process of going through names. Whether anyone's address book is an indication of character is debatable, but Geraldine Jackman's was chaotic. For the few full names and addresses that appeared under each letter, many more were entered under forenames alone, often with no address listed, only a phone number. Some were circled or heavily underlined and many were scored through. Additional jottings had been added on most pages, times of trains, appointments, bank balances and densely-patterned doodles strung across the entries like an illustrated guide to cobwebs. A detective of the school of Sherlock Holmes would surely have deduced enough from those elaborate pages to convict the murderer and state exactly how the crime had been committed and when. Diamond's more workaday method was to observe Jackman's demeanour and listen to his comments as together the three men attempted to compile a list of Geraldine's friends.
Painstakingly, in the course of the next hour and a half, the task was completed – or as nearly completed as it was ever likely to be. By concentrating on local addresses and phone numbers, Jackman identified more than thirty of his wife's friends of the past two years. A scattering of names remained mysteries, but his willingness to assist was not in doubt. He went meticulously through the book interpreting the jottings. He could be faulted only in one respect. Inconveniently, he omitted to suggest that any of the names was a potential suspect.
Far from satisfied with the exercise, Diamond started probing with less subtlety. 'When you were telling us about the barbecue, you mentioned an estate agent by the name of Roger, the character who was dancing with your wife.'
'Yes. He's in here somewhere. Roger Plato.' Jackman leafed through the pages. 'Under 'R'. Two phone numbers, work and home.'
Diamond reached for the book and peered at the entry as if he hadn't noticed it previously. 'His wife isn't mentioned.'
'As far as I know, she didn't go about with the Bristol crowd.'
'She came to the barbecue, you said.'
'Yes. I didn't know of her existence until that evening.'
'But your wife knew, presumably.'
Jackman gave a shrug.
Diamond snapped the book shut and said on a sudden aggressive note, 'Was Plato sleeping with your wife?'
The attempt at a shock-effect was too obviously stage-managed. Jackman showed that he was unimpressed and unruffled. 'Isn't that a matter you should discuss with Roger, rather than me?'
Diamond reverted smoothly to his more civil approach. 'Let me phrase it differently, then. Did you suspect that he was sleeping with her?'
Paradoxically, this caused a flicker of annoyance. 'No, I didn't. She wouldn't have been so obvious about it. She flaunted Roger like a new hat.'
'Was there some other man?'
'I can't say. I simply do not know.'
'Did you care?'
Jackman hesitated. 'Yes.'
'So the openness you talked about in your relationship didn't extend to taking lovers?'
At this stage in the interview the professor made a bid to seize the initiative by demanding, 'Why are these questions necessary, Superintendent?'
Diamond answered candidly, 'Because jealousy may be the motive I'm looking for.'
'Jealousy on whose part?'
Unaccustomed to finding himself on the end of a sharp question, Diamond cast his eyes up to the ceiling and answered, 'A wife who is being cheated, possibly.'
'Or a husband?' said Jackman angrily. 'You've made it plain enough that I'm your principal suspect, so why don't you say it?'
'Principal witness,' Diamond insisted. 'You're my principal witness up to now. I need your help. I'm not going to throw accusations at you when you're helping us.' He reached for the address book again. 'There are several names here that we passed over quickly. Andy. No surname. Bristol phone number. Did you meet a friend of your wife's called Andy?'
'No.'
'Was anyone of that name at the barbecue?'
'I've no idea. I doubt whether I saw everyone who came.'
'You mentioned stepping over someone in the doorway who was using your Coronation biscuit tin as a drum.'
'Silver Jubilee biscuit tin. I didn't discover his name.'
Diamond tried another. 'Chrissie – does that mean anything?'
'No.'
'Fiona?'
'Look, if I'd recognized the names, I would have told you when we were going through the book. I thought I had made it abundantly clear already that we didn't live in each other's pockets. Gerry had a life of her own and I shared a part of it, just a part.'
Diamond gave a tolerant nod and eased back in the chair. 'Let's concentrate on your life, then. Take us through the weeks leading up to your wife's disappearance. How long was it after the barbecue that she went missing?'
'The barbecue was on 5 August. The last time I saw Gerry was Monday, 11 September.'
Diamond glanced at Wigfull, who made a mental calculation and said, 'Just over five weeks.'
'So how did you fill the time?'
Jackman gave an exasperated sigh. 'For Christ's sake! I was working my butt off organizing a bloody exhibition.'
The Jane Austen exhibition didn't interest Diamond. 'What about your personal life? What was going on at home?'
'Nothing much. We were pretty suspicious of each other after what had happened. I think Gerry deliberately kept out of my way as much as possible – to let me get over it, I suppose. And I was getting in late.'
'Did you continue to sleep together?'
'If you mean in the same bedroom, yes.'
Wigfull put in, almost out of curiosity, 'How could you relax, knowing she'd tried to kill you?'
