‘Because of the air, I mean.’
There was a thoughtful silence.
Diamond then asked, ‘Are we going to get air-conditioning?’
‘Lord, no.’
The ACC was pussyfooting. Diamond could guess what was coming. His best efforts to occupy the murder squad on a couple of unsolved killings from four years ago were not succeeding. Too many of the stupid gumbos were being seen at the snooker table in the canteen.
The ACC tried again. ‘It would be fascinating to know if the suicide rate is higher here than in other parts of the country.’
It might fascinate
‘Mind you, other factors play a part. The papers are full of gloom and doom. People being laid off work, businesses failing, the homeless on the streets.’
‘So it’s not the air,’ said Diamond. ‘It’s the press.’
‘That isn’t what I’m saying, Peter.’
‘You mean we need some good news?’
‘We’ve got quite a log-jam of suicides,’ said the ACC, getting closer to the point.
‘On the force?’
‘For God’s sake, no. On our patch.’ He went on to itemise them. The farmer, up at Tormarton two weeks ago. A foreign student found yesterday in a garage, killed by exhaust fumes from his car. And – this very morning – a young woman in her twenties who had chosen the spectacular way, leaping off the balustrade of the Royal Crescent.
‘Looking on the bright side,’ said Diamond after this catalogue of tragedies, ‘at least we have the bodies. The ones who disappear take up most time.’
The ACC made a dismissive gesture. ‘Be a good man, Peter. You’re not fully stretched on the murder squad. John Wigfull discovered that the farmer wasn’t the simple matter he appeared to be at first. We still haven’t had the post-mortem.’
‘You want me to take it over?’ he said, trying not to sound over-eager.
‘No. John will see it through. It’s just a matter of contacting people now, and he’s good at that. Help him out by taking a look at one of the other two, you and your team.’
‘It would be no hardship, sir. The farmer, I mean. I visited the scene at the time.’
‘No point. Wigfull has it buttoned up.’
His offer spurned, Diamond mentally compared the remaining two suicides. If taking a look was meant literally, he thought the asphyxiated student might be easier on the eye than the high diver. ‘Any particular one?’
‘Talk to John. He’s co-ordinating this.’
His knee behaved as if someone had hit it with a rubber hammer. ‘In charge, you mean?’
‘I said co-ordinating.’
‘Co-ordinating what? There’s no connection, is there? Serial suicides?’
This new ACC had no sense of humour. ‘I don’t think I follow you.’
‘Where’s the co-ordinating?’
‘Just the manpower, Peter. Co-ordinating the manpower.’
‘Wigfull is not co-ordinating me. I out-rank him.’
‘We know that. You can handle this with your well-known tact.’
A look passed between them. No more was said.
The desk sergeant buzzed him. ‘I’ve got a lady here, sir, asking to see the senior detective on duty.’
‘What about?’
‘Suspicious circumstances, she says.’
‘Concerning what?’
‘Hold on a minute, Mr Diamond.’ There was a pause, then: ‘A possible abduction.’
‘What of-a child?’
‘A woman friend of hers.’ Some angry shouting could be heard at the end of the line. The sergeant’s voice dropped to a confidential mutter. ‘She’s been here over an hour, Mr Diamond. She won’t speak to anyone else. She’s a right pain, sir.’
‘In what way?’
‘Mouthing off about how bloody useless we are.’
‘So she is speaking to other people.’
‘Everyone who comes in. Even the postman copped an earful.’
‘Get someone to take a statement and I’ll look at it. I’m on a suicide right now.’
‘I tried that. She wants to see the top man, she says.’
Over the background noise came a shout: ‘I said the head dick, dickhead.’
He thought he recognised the voice. This was not turning out to be much of a day. ‘Do you know this woman?’
‘No, sir, but she seems to think I should. I’m new here. I’m normally based at Yeovil.’
‘You don’t need to tell me that, laddie. What’s her name?’
‘Just a sec’
Diamond pressed the earpiece closer, but it wasn’t necessary. He heard the name clearly.
The sergeant started to say, ‘She’s-’
‘Just now I said I was on a suicide,’ Diamond cut him off. ‘That was wrong. I’m on three suicides.’
‘So can’t you see her right now, Mr Diamond?’
‘Right now, sergeant, I’d rather see my dentist standing over me with the needle.’
Ada Shaftsbury’s treatment of police officers was a well-known hazard at Manvers Street. She had a stream of abuse worthy of a camel-driver. Rookies and recent arrivals would bring her in for shoplifting and suffer public humiliation. When Ada was in full flow the older hands would leave their offices to listen.
‘Too busy?’ said the sergeant, near desperation.
‘Ask her to put it in writing.’
‘Sir, I don’t think she’ll go away.’
‘Maybe so, but I will, sergeant.’ He put down the phone.
Detective Chief Inspector John Wigfull wasn’t his favourite person by any stretch of the imagination, but compared to Ada he was a baa-lamb. On entering Wigfull’s office, Diamond caught the end of his briefing of three detectives who looked straight out of school. ‘… and I don’t want to hear anyone use the word “suicide”. This is a suspicious death until proved otherwise, do you understand? Get to it, then.’
Before the trio were out of the door, Diamond said, ‘Morning, John. I’m told you’ve got
Wigfull sat up even taller and grasped the edge of his desk. His moustache, less perky these days, was into a Mexican phase that hid most of his mouth. ‘I’m assuming nothing.’
‘So I heard.’
‘Then shall we get our terminology straight?’
‘Before we do,’ said Diamond. ‘I’m quoting the ACC. He asked me to take over one of these…suicides.’
‘Oh.’
‘If it’s all the same to you, I was thinking about the fellow found in the garage.’
‘Chou.’
The Mexican phase was confirmed.
‘Yes, Chou,’ said Wigfull. ‘From Singapore. A final-year student of engineering. Found last night. He left a note. Very organised. If it’s all the same to you, I’d value your help more on the case at the Royal Crescent.’
Diamond played the phrase over in his mind. ‘Value your help’ was Wigfull at his most diplomatic. And the organised engineering student did sound dull, even though he was less messy. ‘What’s the story, then?’
‘This was also last night. We don’t know her name yet. The start of it was when two couples won the lottery. When I say “won”, they had four numbers up. They watched the draw in the Grapes in Westgate Street – that pub
