The Vault

twenty- seven

COUNCILLOR STURR USHERED INGEBORG through his front door and then turned to face Diamond, and his expression was not welcoming. 'It's inconvenient.'

'It's necessary, sir.'

'You can see I've got pictures to unload.'

'Isn't that the removers' job?'

'Don't you tell me how to unload pictures. I must check every one for possible damage, the glass, the frames.'

'How many? That won't take long, sir. We've been waiting hours to see you.'

'You made no appointment.'

'We don't,' said Diamond. 'We just drop in.'

For a time, Sturr ignored them to supervise the unloading of his pictures. Each had to be unwrapped in the hall and inspected before being taken into a front room. The removal team got on with the job while Diamond and Leaman stood by the front porch like two immovable Jehovah's Witnesses.

Diamond said confidentially to Leaman, 'Did you recognise the woman?'

'I've seen her hanging about the nick.'

'Ingeborg Smith is a hotshot reporter. Wants to join the police.'

'Must be out of her mind. Is that her car, the white Peugeot?'

'Presumably.'

'Did you know she was a close friend of Mr Sturr's?'

'She's upwardly mobile, is Ingeborg.'

'I already noticed that.'

The unloading of the pictures was completed with no damage discovered. Sturr took out his wallet and tipped the removal team. They returned to the van, closed the rear doors and drove off.

Diamond stepped up to Sturr before he could retreat inside the house. 'Can we get this over, sir?'

'I told you it's not convenient.'

'It's not convenient for us, but we're here.'

'Look, it's ten-thirty on Sunday evening, damned near my bed-' He broke off, cleared his throat, and rephrased the statement. 'You can see I have a visitor.'

'You have three visitors, and two of them are from the police.'

'Anyway, what is this about?'

'The death of Miss Redbird and the attack on our fellow-officer, John Wigfull.'

As a member of the Police Authority, Sturr could not avoid making sounds of concern. 'That was shocking. How is he?'

'Still out, I think. I've been too busy to ask.' Diamond stepped closer. He'd had enough. 'Either we talk here, Councillor, or down the nick. It's up to you.'

Sturr braced, as if for a fight. He thrust his face towards Diamond. Then, quite suddenly, he submitted like an ageing stag faced by the herd leader, turned and walked into his hall, leaving the door open for the two detectives to follow.

The pictures had been carried into a sitting room and propped against the wall. There, as a centre piece, in competition with the artistry of Cotman, Cox and Blake, Ingeborg was seated in her short summer dress, all leg and cleavage, looking faintly amused. Sturr told her, 'This is extremely tiresome, my dear, but would you mind waiting in another room?'

She said with spirit, 'That's all right. Mr Diamond and I are old chums.'

Sturr moved right up to her and muttered something in her ear. The smile vanished. Colour blazed in her cheeks. Here she was, perfectly placed for an exclusive, and they wanted her out.

Sturr said something else, earnest and forceful. Ingeborg still looked in two minds. She shamed him with her large, intelligent eyes.

'If I step out,' she said in a voice everyone was meant to hear, 'it's out of your life, John. I'm not your plaything, to be brought out when you feel like it.'

'That's unfair,' protested Sturr.

'It's business before pleasure with you, isn't it?' she continued bitterly. 'If you're not on the phone to America, or checking your precious pictures, you're in conference with the police.

Meanwhile I'm supposed to sit around waiting, and if the other night's anything to go by, I could wait for ever.'

'For God's sake, Inge!'

'I'm off. You can stuff your vintage Mumm up your vintage bum.'

With that, she got up and walked out of the building. She refrained from slamming the front door behind her, but certainly closed it with firmness. From the window, they watched her walk to her car in the glow of the security light, and start up.

Diamond saw no reason to apologise. He had not asked her to leave.

Sturr's way of dealing with the incident was to ignore it. He said tersely, 'You'd better tell me what you want.'

'Miss Redbird,' said Diamond. 'Did you know her personally?'

'I knew of her. She wasn't a friend, if that's what you mean.'

'Did you ever do business with her?'

'Buying stuff from her shop? No, no, I don't go in for antiques.'

'Pictures.'

'I buy from specialists. Dealers.' He gestured towards the line of paintings ranged along the wall. 'If you think these were found in junk shops like hers, you're mistaken.'

'Have you visited her shop in the last year?'

'Certainly not. What is this about?'

'Ever?'

'I must have looked in at some point, but it would have been a long time ago.'

'Have you been in touch with her recently, on the phone, or by letter?'

'No.'

Liars will often give themselves away by nuances of timing and tone. Nothing in John Sturr's responses suggested anything but the truth.

'She hasn't contacted you?'

'She has not, and I can't think why she should.'

'We'll come to that presently, sir. Last Thursday evening, you were a guest at the Assistant Chief Constable's house. What time did you arrive?'

'Around eight. And you know when I left, because you were there.'

'Driving?'

He said with impatience, 'It's a bit late to fit me up with that one.'

Diamond, calm as a ministering priest, explained evenly, 'I'm not interested in the state you were in. I want to knOw how you travelled.'

'Yes, I drove.'

'Straight home?'

'Yes.'

'And Ingeborg Smith was with you?'

'Since when was that a crime?' said Sturr. 'I can't believe you have the neck to ask me things like this.'

'What time did you get in, sir?'

A sigh. 'I don't know. It must have been about ten to eleven.'

'And you didn't go out again?'