The Vault

Joe tried some more keys unsuccessfully. 'Would you mind if I called my wife at the hotel?'

'It's over there, on the milk-churn.'

The call to Donna would have been difficult under any conditions. With Peg Redbird sitting a couple of feet away (allowing him some privacy had not crossed her mind) it was a minefield.

Donna must have been sitting next to the phone, because she was on the line before Joe heard the ringing tone. The menace she put into the words, 'Who is this?' would have petrified a lesser man. Joe's reaction was to unloose words at the speed of a tobacco auctioneer. He told her he was unavoidably detained by an accident in an antique shop that had been his fault. He was not hurt, but there was some damage to property and he wanted to put matters right before leaving. He guessed he would be back inside the half-hour and if she cared to call a restaurant of her choice and book a table for two he would make it up to her.

He should have put down the phone immediately. The delay allowed Donna to start. Her delivery was no slower than Joe's. It was a marvel her teeth stayed in. She let him know that she had been expecting him back each minute for the past two hours and as for putting matters right, he had better think about putting them right with his own wife. After the stress she'd been under, she expected something a damned sight better than a meal out. And soon.

He promised to leave at once and dropped the phone as if it was red hot.

Peg said, 'It sounds serious.'

'It's getting that way. Look, would you let me buy the box now and take it back to my hotel? I'll get a locksmith to open it without damaging the lock.'

She shook her head. 'Sorry, my pet. I'm not selling without seeing inside it.'

'You understand my problem. My wife is expecting me.'

'Would she let you come back later and try some more keys?'

'Don't you close the store now?'

'I've got to wait for Ellis with the van. He's collecting some furniture I bought today. We'll be here until midnight, I should think, trying to make space.' She smiled. 'You helped.'

'Really? I don't know how.'

'The vase.'

He said he was sure to be back by ten. He picked up Mary Shelley's book.

Peg said she would carry on trying to unlock the writing box.

A thought struck Joe. 'You wouldn't force it while I was away?'

'Ducky, you weren't listening. I wouldn't damage that box for all the tea in China.'

Now a worse thought struck him, a sudden strong suspicion that Peg had known all along where to find the key and was only waiting for him to leave.

twelve

THE SMELL OF DAMP, ancient stone and the cool of the night were marvellously suggestive, transporting him to the vaults and charnel-houses Frankenstein had visited in pursuit of the secret of life. 'One secret which I alone possessed was the hope to which I had dedicated myself; and the moon gazed on my midnight labours, while, with unrelaxed and breathless eagerness, I pursued nature to her hiding'places.'

Unlike Frankenstein, he was untroubled by the horrors. He embraced them eagerly.

thirteen

WHEN IT BECAME OBVIOUS that the television people would not let up, Diamond agreed to record an interview for BBC Newsnight that meant a drive to Bristol for a link-up with London. He got to the studio around six-thirty. They powdered his bald patch in Make-Up-'topped, if not tailed,' as they put it- and then he found himself in front of a camera facing a famous talking head on a monitor. Usually he relished watching politicians ducking and diving under fire from Jeremy Paxman. Being on the receiving end was a different experience. Tonight he didn't much like what he saw of this formidable interrogator. If the lush crop of dark hair wasn't provocation enough for a bald man, the smile that came with the questions was.

'You seem to have got yourself an unusual case down there in Bath, Superintendent. What's all this about Frankenstein?'

Diamond replied dourly that he didn't have anything to say about Frankenstein.

'That's rather odd if I may say so because according to the evening papers, you're digging up bits of human anatomy in the cellar of the house where Frankenstein was written.'

'That may be so,' said Diamond, already wishing he had not agreed to do this.

'There's no 'may be' about it, Superintendent. Either it's the Frankenstein cellar, or it isn't. Have you read Mary Shelley's book?'

He admitted that he had not.

'Better get hold of a copy, hadn't you?'

'I've got more important things to do.'

Paxman pricked up his eyebrows in a way familiar from years of Newsnights. Talking to a TV screen was a new experience for Diamond and concentration was difficult.

'You're familiar with the story, anyway-how Frankenstein put together this creature from spare parts gathered from dissecting-rooms and tombs?'

'I should think everyone has heard of it.'

'And you won't deny that you're finding bones down there?'

'The bones have got nothing to do with Frankenstein' Diamond insisted.

'So can you reveal exclusively on Newsnight that he isn't a suspect?' The lips curved a fraction, in case any viewer had not picked up the irony.

'He's fiction, as far as I know.'

'Well, that's good news for nervous viewers. What about the monster?'

Diamond felt he had endured enough of this. 'I'm speaking to him, aren't I?'

There was an awkward moment when nothing was said. Then: 'Touche, Mr Diamond. Bath Police are well on the case, by the sound of things.' Paxman glanced at his notes. 'You're quoted as saying you could find hundreds more bones in this vault.'

He knew that remark would be turned against him. 'It's over a churchyard.'

'Over a churchyard?' Just one of the eyebrows popped up. 'While you're catching up on your reading, you'd better look at Dracula as well. He could easily come into this.'

'It wouldn't surprise me-if you people have your way.'

'If you don't mind me saying, you sound slightly disenchanted by all the attention, Superintendent.'

'I'm trying to keep it sensible, that's all.'

'That's a pious hope I should think. Is there any way we can help?'

'Am I allowed to be serious for a moment?'

A smile.

'We're keen to interview anyone who worked on the Pump Room extension-which is over this vault-in the period 1982 to 1983.'

'Archaeologists? Construction workers?'

'Anyone at all. Any information will be treated in confidence.' He gave the Bath number.

'There you have it, then,' Jeremy Paxman said to camera. 'Don't call us, call the Bath Police. We'll display the number at the end.'

In Make-Up, they wiped away the powder and told him he deserved a medal.

'What for?'

'You gave as good as you got. No one's ever called him a monster.'