'Does it look like I would?
'This mate. Was he staying with you in Bath?'
'No chance. He was on his way to Bristol.'
Diamond locked eyes briefly with Leaman. Here was another suspect without his own transport.
'How long were you there?'
'Went for the funeral and stayed till the weekend.'
'Stayed where?'
'My uncle's gaff.'
'The will hasn't been proved yet and they let you stay in his house?' Diamond said in surprise.
Pennycook looked away, out of the window, towards the helicopter on the lawn. 'It weren't a case of letting me.'
'Meaning what?'
'I fixed it, didn't I?' Now he gave Diamond his full attention, taking obvious pride in the guile he had used. 'The bank are the executors, right? They got the front door key. They know he left the whole bloody lot to me. I told them it was Uncle's wish for some of his old mates to go back to the house for a jar or two after the funeral.' He chuckled. 'They couldn't argue with that. About eight guys came back, said they were his mates. I don't know who they were. He had no family apart from me. Anyway, I found some wine downstairs and handed out cheese biscuits. At the end I was supposed to lock up and return the key to the bank. They sent a geezer in a suit to make sure I did. I give them back their key and kept the key of the basement. So I could let myself in later and save some money putting up in Bath.'
It rang true. The ingenuity of the heroin addict is well known. 'Then what?'
'I already told you.'
'You scouted around for an antiques dealer, and Peg was the obvious choice.'
'Went to look at her place first. Took a walk around and give it the once-over. Then I give her a bell from Camden Terrace asking for a valuation. I knew she'd come.'
'You let her pick out some plums.'
'She got what she wanted. She could have had more, but she was playing it cool.'
'How much cash changed hands?'
'Grand and a half.'
'She carried that much?'
'No. She told me to call for it later.'
'Later the same day?'
'Yeah.'
Diamond's eyes widened. 'Thursday evening? Did she now?' This was a detail neither he nor Leaman had included in their picture of events the evening Peg Redbird was murdered. 'You went, of course?'
He shrugged. 'What do you think?'
'What time was that?'
'Don't know. Don't keep track of time.'
'After dark?'
'Yeah.'
'That would have been later than eight-thirty, then. Was she alone?'
Pennycook seemed to sense that he was walking into quicksand. 'She was bumped, wasn't she?'
'Let's talk about your actions that evening.'
'I didn't touch her. I collected my dosh and cleared off back to Camden Crescent.'
'Fifteen hundred pounds?'
'Like I said. That was the deal.' His thin body was starting to shake. 'Look, if you think I'm the one who stiffed her, you're bloody mistaken. She was all right when I left.'
'Did you see anyone else?'
'In the shop? No.'
'Outside? Anywhere near the place?'
The temptation to steer suspicion to someone else must have been strong. 'Don't remember.'
Diamond was as energised as if he had taken a jab from one of Pennycook's syringes. This was crucial evidence: someone who had visited Peg shortly before she was murdered. 'You came to the shop some time after dark, but before ten, correct?'
Pennycook gave a perfunctory nod.
'Shape up. I'm trying to help you.' Encouragement, followed immediately by warning words. 'You're under strong suspicion of murder. What you're about to say could convince us you're not the killer.'
There was some doubt whether Pennycook was about to say anything.
'Tell us all you can remember about that meeting you had with Peg Redbird.'
'There's sod all to tell.'
Not in Diamond's estimation. 'You arrive at Noble and Nude to collect your money. You walked, I suppose?'
'Yeah.'
'Try and remember Walcot Street. Was it quiet?'
'I told you I didn't see no one. Just cars.'
'Cars going by, or parked outside?'
'Going by. Nothing was parked there.'
'A van? You didn't notice a van?'
'You're not listening.'
'So you got to the shop. Was it open?'
'Course it was, or how would I have got in?'
'She could have let you in. What was happening when you entered?'
'She was in there, facing me, behind a big desk with boxes on it. I said-'
'Hold on,' Diamond stopped him. 'The boxes. Tell us about them.'
'There's nothing to tell. Boxes, I said.'
'What were they made of?'
'One was wood, I think, polished wood, dark. She closed it when I come through the door. Locked it up.'
Mary Shelley's writing box. 'You're sure of that?'
'Sure of what?'
'That the box had been open?'
'I wouldn't say it if I didn't remember, would I?'
Diamond nodded mechanically, thinking that this squared with Ellis Somerset's statement. It meant that Pennycook visited Peg after Somerset had left. The hired van was no longer outside and the box was still open. 'What size was it? The size of a box file? You know what a box file is?'
'Yeah. Thicker than that. Like two of them, one on top of the other.'
'And you mentioned other boxes.'
'Rusty old tins without lids. Two or three, up at one end of the desk.'
'You don't recall seeing anything else on the desk?'
'Nothing on the desk.'
There was just the suggestion of more to come. Diamond coaxed it out. 'But some other thing caught your interest?'
'Yeah?'
'Something else you happened to notice.'
'Oh, yeah. On top of the safe I saw some of the stuff I sold her. Two old pictures off the wall. Scenes.'
This clinched it. He had come after Ellis Somerset had delivered the goods to Noble and Nude.
'Scenes?' repeated Diamond, testing him. 'What kind of scenes?'
'I don't know. Old-fashioned stuff. Not my taste at all.'
'You couldn't tell me the artist?'
'I know sod all about art. I was telling you what happened,' Pennycook said in a tone suggesting he finally
