The Vault

'Did you come across either of them again, on other jobs?'

'No. Never saw 'em again.'

'You said they were oppos. Did they spend time together outside work?'

'I've no idea, mate.'

'If they had these nicknames,' Diamond persisted, 'it suggests they were thought of as a pair.'

'They could have been stuck on a job together, couldn't they?' the old plasterer said. 'Sometimes you get put to work with some bloke you never met, and before you know it, everyone's treating you like a double act.'

'You think that's more likely?'

'I saw them shovelling wet cement out of a barrow. They must have been teamed up for that.'

Diamond gripped the phone and leaned forward as if he was face to face with his informant. 'They actually worked with cement?'

'I keep telling you they was general labourers. They had no trade. They was put to carting the cement across to the brickies, I reckon.'

No more of any use emerged, though Diamond continued to try. Finally, he thanked the plasterer, and asked him to get in touch if anything else surfaced in his memory.

Progress. A Motorhead fan and his workmate. The cement squad.

He told Halliwell the salient bits. 'I won't say we're closing in, Keith, but we're on the move now.'

'How do we keep on moving?'

'By cross-checking. We go back to your contractors and all the others you traced and see if any of them have memories of Banger and Mash. More important, can they put a name to them?' He stood up and pushed his chair under the desk.

'You said 'we'?'

'And I meant you.' He put a hand on Halliwell's shoulder. 'My oppo.'

DOWNSTAIRS IN an interview room, John Wigfull was face to face with the American professor whose wife had disappeared. It was apparent that Joe Dougan had not yet heard that the woman's body had been taken from the Avon. Either that, or he was giving the impression he knew nothing of it. Wigfull was doing his best to keep an open mind, but keeping an open mind didn't alter a fact well known to criminologists: that most murders are committed within the family.

'I don't understand it,' said Joe with some conviction. 'I reported this at two in the morning. You've been on the case twelve hours. Where is she?' To do him credit, he looked and sounded like a man in anguish. He had bluish bags under his red-lidded eyes and his face had sprouted overnight stubble.

Wigfull handled him calmly. No one was better at taking the heat out of a stressful situation. 'I can assure you, professor, we put out a missing person report directly. I checked that. Can I just go over the description with you?'

'We did that in the night.'

'Yes, sir, but you were in a state of shock. You may have missed something out.' Wigfull picked up a copy of the description that had been circulated. 'Looking at this, you did miss something. You didn't say what she was wearing, apart from a cream-coloured Burberry raincoat.'

'I can't tell you what else she had on,' said Joe.

'You must have seen what she was wearing earlier that evening. You had a meal out with her.'

'I honestly don't remember. I don't look at her clothes. I can tell you what she said, how she was looking, what she had to eat.'

Wigfull found himself insensitively thinking that what she had to eat might be of some use to the pathologist. 'Didn't they go through the wardrobe with you?'

'Sure, but I couldn't help them. Call me an airhead if you like, but I don't know what she brought with her.'

Wigfull sighed. It is a sad fact that a majority of men, if caught unprepared, cannot tell you what their wives are wearing. 'Does she have any distinguishing marks?'

Joe Dougan frowned. 'Birthmarks, you mean?'

'Tattoos.'

'Donna?'

'Operation scars, vaccinations?'

'Why do you need this? She's not going to show anyone her appendix scar.'

'So she has one?'

'I think so, but I don't see…' He turned paler. Panic threatened. 'You mean she could be lying somewhere?'

Wigfull was not ready to tell all. 'It's got to be considered when someone is missing this long. Has she ever done anything like this before?'

'No, sir, she has not.'

It was wise to move on swiftly. 'I'd like to go over your movements last evening, professor. After eating out, you returned to the Royal Crescent Hotel with your wife between eight-thirty and nine, and then you left her. You went out again.'

'So I left her at the hotel. She's a grown-up. She's able to be on her own for an hour,' Joe pointed out.

'Where did you go?'

'To an antiques store on Walcot Street. Noble and Nude. I was there earlier. I promised to come back.'

'The shop was open as late as that?'

'The lady was taking in furniture. She told me she'd be there until midnight.'

'You're speaking of the owner?'

'Her name is Miss Redbird.'

'She can vouch for you, then?'

'Hey, what is this?' said Joe, his red eyes widening. 'Am I under suspicion, or what? Would I call you people in the middle of the night if I'd done something wrong?'

Wigfull skipped that question. 'Was your wife in any way upset that you went out so late without her?'

'I wasn't going after girls, for God's sake.'

'But was she upset?'

Joe gave a slight, grudging nod. 'Donna didn't see why it was important to me to go back to the store. I tried explaining, but she wasn't in a mood to be reasonable.'

'You had a row?'

'A difference of opinion.'

'Enough for her to walk out?'

'In a strange town in the night? I don't think so. Not Donna.'

'She took her raincoat,' Wigfull pointed out. 'We established that. Do you have any friends she could have gone to?'

'In Bath? No.'

'Nearby, then?'

'No, sir. We're tourists. The only people we spent time with here are other tourists.'

'Does she have money?'

'A couple of hundred pounds, I guess. Sometimes she goes shopping without me. She also has credit cards. Her bag isn't in the room.'

'Did you give details of the credit cards to the officers who saw you in the night?'

'Sure, as much as I knew.'

'Was there any place your wife mentioned that she planned to visit while she is here?'

'We're finishing up in London, if that's what you mean. Tomorrow-I mean today-we were going to visit Wilton House. She loves big houses.'

'Was that what brought you to Bath?'

Joe gave a nervous, angry sigh. 'Look don't get me wrong, but talking about our vacation isn't helping to find my wife. I told you we're tourists.'

Wigfull pressed on regardless. 'All right. Would you mind telling me what you were doing visiting an antique shop as late as nine-thirty in the evening?'