‘Two weekends ago they re-enacted the Civil War Battle of Lansdown.’
‘Missed it.’
‘You would, when all you think about is rugby and old films. The real thing was in 1643 and they had a major muster three hundred and fifty years on, in 1993.’
‘A what?’
‘A muster. That’s the term they use. It made a very colourful spectacle, I’m told. There are societies like the Sealed Knot who take it very seriously.’
‘Pathetic,’ Diamond said. ‘Cut to the chase.’
‘As I was trying to tell you, they had another muster this year. One of them fell in the battle and hasn’t been heard of since.’
‘Killed?’
‘If he had been, you’d have heard about it. There would have been a real corpse when the fighting came to an end and they all got up and marched away. No, this man doesn’t seem to have been injured.’
‘You just said he fell in the battle.’
‘It’s all pretence. They lie down for a while and then get up and join in again. Somehow this one went missing. No one reported it at the time, but two days later his car was found in the racecourse car park. His armour, the authentic costume, was in the boot.’
‘Pity.’
‘Why?’
‘It spoils your story, doesn’t it? You’re not looking for a missing person in a big hat with a feather.’
‘He was an infantryman. They wore helmets.’
‘Doesn’t matter, does it, if his stuff was in the car? You say his motor was found, so you must have checked with Swansea for his name.’
‘Yes, we know who he is. Rupert Hope, a history lecturer at Bristol University. They have no idea where he is.’
‘Family?’
‘Parents living in Australia. They haven’t heard from him since the incident. Neither have any of his university colleagues.’
‘Another missing person. I expect he’ll turn up.’
‘But why would he abandon his car?’
‘Any number of reasons,’ Diamond said. ‘Has anyone tried it, to see if it starts?’
‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘If the car was giving trouble, he may have got a lift with someone else.’
‘That doesn’t explain why he disappeared.’
‘You asked me why he left the car there.’
‘He’s been gone twelve days.’
‘Try this for size, then. After the battle, they all get together for a few drinks. What’s the pub up there? The Blathwayt. Your cavalier gets stonkered and in no state to drive. One of his mates offers to drive him home, but on the way back to Bristol they have an accident.’
‘We’d have heard.’
‘Hold on. His friend the driver is killed, but your man gets out and walks away. He’s hit his head, lost his memory. Nobody knows there was a passenger.’
‘So where is he now?’ Wigfull said with scorn.
‘In the funny farm. Check for the guy with delusions that he’s a cavalier.’
Wigfull took him seriously, as usual. ‘We don’t have time for that. After all, he’s only a missing person, not a suspect on the run. But if the press take up the story, they might make something of it.’
Diamond smiled. ‘John, they’d make something of that little patch of shaving foam under your tash.’
The satisfaction of watching Wigfull check with a finger brightened Diamond’s day.
The next morning a woman called Miss Hibbert walked into Manvers Street Police Station with three greyhounds and a large bone. ‘I’ve always obeyed the law,’ she told the desk sergeant, ‘and I want to know if I can keep this.’
Sergeant Austin, with eighteen years’ experience, had seen some shocking things across this desk. He eyed the bone without much interest. ‘You want to keep it?’
‘For these chaps. They’re rescue dogs. Life hasn’t given them much in the way of treats. Do you have any idea of the disgraceful way so-called sportsmen treat greyhounds when they can’t race any more?’
Sergeant Austin sidestepped the question with one of his own. ‘Where did you get the bone, ma’am?’
‘Up on Lansdown. I give them a good run whenever I can. It’s the ideal place to take them. I thought it was a piece of wood at first, and then I saw it had the shape of a bone and I thought I’d better check with you in case it’s human.’
‘Human? Let’s hope not,’ Sergeant Austin said, turning the thing over in his hands.
Catching sight of the bone again, one of the dogs reared up and tried to take it back.
‘Get down, you brute!’
‘Who are you calling a brute? There’s no need for that,’ Miss Hibbert said. ‘He’s muzzled. He can’t bite you. Down, Hector.’ Sergeant Austin rubbed the back of his hand. ‘He got me with his claw.’
‘Your own fault. You shouldn’t have shown him the bone. Has he drawn blood?’
‘If you really want to know, he has.’
‘Then I’m sorry, and I’m speaking for Hector as well. It wasn’t intentional. We kept within the law by wearing the muzzle.’
‘It’s a claw mark, not a bite,’ the sergeant said, rubbing at the spot. ‘He needs restraining.’
‘I hope you’re not suggesting I tie up his paws as well as his jaw.’
‘That’s not the point.’
‘Let me see, sergeant.’ The speaker was the police doctor, who happened to be on his way into the police station to carry out more medicals. ‘One of these dogs attacked you?’
Miss Hibbert, outraged, said, ‘Absolutely not. Hector was being playful.’
To his credit Sergeant Austin said it wasn’t a problem.
The doctor said, ‘Let’s see. Just a scratch, then. Are you up to date with your tetanus jabs?’
A silence.
‘I’ll see to that shortly. I have some antitoxin on the premises.’
‘It’s nothing. I don’t need a jab.’
‘Sorry, sergeant, I must insist for your own safety.’
‘Okay, thanks,’ the sergeant said without any gratitude at all.
‘And what are you doing with that femur?’ the doctor said. ‘It looks human to me.’
The bone was taken into the CID office and shown to Peter Diamond. He had no training in forensic anthropology, but if the doctor thought the thing looked human it had to be taken seriously. He went downstairs to speak to Miss Hibbert, who by this time had taken the dogs outside to the car park. Silver-haired and sturdy, with a pale full moon of a face, she was in a Bavarian hat, tweed suit and brogues.
‘What I’d like to do,’ Diamond said, when he’d heard her story, ‘is go up to Lansdown with you and see exactly where you found the bone.’
‘I just walked all the way into town,’ she said. ‘That was downhill. If you think I’m tramping all the way up again, you’ve got another think coming.’
He offered to drive.
‘With the dogs? I’m not leaving them here.’
‘Are they all right in a car?’
‘They’re angels… if you treat them right.’
