The Vault

'Just what you see, sir. The local paper on the back seat, Friday's edition. There's also a leaflet advertising the Antiques Fair. And a parking ticket on the dash, dated Saturday.'

'That'll be when he called at the Assembly Rooms.' Diamond looked at the ticket though the windscreen. It was the kind you buy from a machine, the standard ticket issued by Bath Council, whichever car park you used. Wigfull had paid ?1.40 for two hours, and the time would have elapsed at 4.2I p.m. But there was no way of telling the actual time he had left. 'I'll look inside.'

'It's sealed, sir.'

'Unseal it, then.'

The constable eyed him in amazement. 'Forensic haven't finished yet.'

'Their look-out, constable, not mine. Don't wet yourself. I'll take responsibility.'

He lifted the police tapes enough to open the rear door and remove the newspaper and leaflet. The Bath Chronicle was folded open at a page covering the weekend's entertainments and attractions. The Antiques Fair had both a display advert and an article about some of the items on offer. But Wigfull had gone rooting for information, not bronze cherubs. The fair was an opportunity, and he had kept it to himself. Out for personal glory, Diamond decided.

No clue as to why he had gone from the Assembly Rooms to a field in Stowford.

The paper was tossed back onto the car seat. 'Forensic are welcome to this. Let's look at the scene.'

The constable pointed across the fields. The two detectives climbed over a stile and started to take the footpath across a chest-high crop of maize. 'Keep your eyes peeled,' he told Sergeant Leaman. 'They must have come this way, John Wigfull and his attacker.'

'Together?' said Leaman.

'Not exactly arm in arm. My picture of it is that Wigfull is in pursuit. He follows someone in the car from Bath. That part is simple. Then the suspect drives into Westwood, parks, jumps out and heads across the field. Out here you can't follow a man without being noticed. Just look ahead of you. In this stuff you'd spot another man half a mile away, easy. So he knows Wigfull is on the trail. He ducks down somewhere, ambushes him and clocks him one. Then he legs it back to his car and drives off.'

They reached the wall at the far side and climbed over another stile into a small uncultivated area of grass and a few trees. Ahead, under a sycamore's shade, was a lone figure in police uniform having a smoke. Galvanized, the constable dropped the cigarette, slammed his cap on and picked up a clipboard.

'Are we as obvious as that?' Diamond muttered to Leaman. 'It must be the way you walk.'

A large area around the spot where Wigfull had been found was marked with metal stakes and checkered tape.

'So what did they pick up in the fingertip search this morning?' Diamond asked when the introductions were over.

'Not a lot, sir,' the constable answered. 'A horse-shoe, some plastic bottles, a few cigarette butts, all of them looking as if they'd been here for years.'

No mention was made of the fresh butts around his feet.

They went over to the plastic tent protecting the spot where Wigfull had been found. Soil samples had been taken, but the scene looked unlikely to yield much information. There were no indications of a struggle. The theory of an ambush was the most plausible.

'What size was the horse-shoe?'

'Average.' The constable made the shape with forefingers and thumbs.

'Not large enough for a weapon, then?'

'Don't know, sir.'

'I mean a weapon heavy enough to brain a man. If he had any sense, this bozo, he'll have got rid of the weapon in that cornfield we walked through.' The fact that the crop was maize didn't undermine the point; you could have driven a motorbike into the field and lost it among the tall stocks.

He pursued this question of the weapon. 'If, as we were saying, he was running from Wigfull, he's unlikely to have been carrying the thing he used. It's more likely he picked something up, any damned thing that came to hand.'

'A piece of timber?' suggested Leaman.

'That's the way my thoughts were heading.' He looked around for a convenient pile of chopped firewood. Nothing so obvious was in sight. 'What's behind us, over there?'

'A pond, sir.'

He went to see for himself. The pond was outside the staked area, supposedly of limited interest to the scene-of-crime team. Large enough to have floated a rowing boat in it, but you wouldn't have needed oars.

Sergeant Leaman, at his side, said unwisely, 'Are you thinking he might have chucked the piece of timber in here, sir?'

'Timber would have floated, wouldn't it?'

Leaman reddened.

Diamond was examining the ground at the margin of the water. He scraped at the soil with his foot, then crouched and rubbed some on his finger and sniffed. 'Bonfire. There's just the possibility that he found something here that he used as the weapon. It's the sort of spot teenagers pick for whatever they get up to over a few drinks. See the ring-pulls? Fag-ends? The cheapest drink is cider. That's the one most kids start with, and cider comes in bottles, thick, heavy bottles. It's speculation, but I'm wondering if our villain picked up an empty and bashed John Wigfull with it.'

'And chucked it in the pond?' said Leaman.

Diamond gave him a look that said don't push me.

twenty-two

'… ONE THOUGHT, ONE CONCEPTION, one purpose. So much has been done, exclaimed the soul of Frankenstein- more, far more, will I achieve, treading in the steps already marked, I will pioneer a new way, explore unknown powers, and unfold to the world the deepest mysteries of creation.'

Like Frankenstein, he was treading in steps already marked, but only to reach new territory. The way was dangerous, better travelled in darkness. More than ever now, he needed to cover his tracks. He was a hunted man.

twenty-three

JOE DOUG AN APPEARED MORE calm than he had at any point up to now. 'Nice timing, superintendent,' he said, rising from a chair in the garden of the Royal Crescent Hotel. 'Why don't you gentlemen join me? I just ordered afternoon tea.'

Tea in the Royal Crescent was something special and a waiter was approaching the table, but Diamond waved him away. This was not a twenty-year-old murder he was investigating now. The time of leisurely tea-breaks was well past. He sat opposite Dougan and sent Sergeant Leaman for another chair. 'I'd better say at once we have no news of your wife,' he told the professor.

'No problem,' said Joe with a serene smile.

Diamond widened his eyes.

Joe said, 'Donna is fine.'

Fine? Diamond had to play the statement over in his mind before fully taking it in.

Joe added, 'She called me at lunchtime. She's in Paris, France.'

'Paris?'

'It surprised me, too. She just needed time out, she said. Things got a little heavy for her, my fling with Mary