a snack. It’s a meal, so I have to eat them at a sitting. Teatime. Three would only be a snack. If I was left with three, I’d have to blow the whistle, and that might be good for me. I’m very strict with myself.’
‘Honestly, I couldn’t manage one.’
‘You don’t mind if I have my tea while we talk?’ said Ada, through a mouthful of Danish pastry.
‘Please go ahead.’
‘I’ve tried diets before and none of them work. This one suits me so far. Since my mother died, I’ve gone all to pieces. I’ve been done three times.’
‘Done?’ Rose was uncertain what she meant.
‘Sent down. For the five-finger discount.’
Rose murmured some sort of response.
‘You’re not with me, petal, are you?’ said Ada. ‘I’m on about shoplifting. Food, mostly. They shouldn’t put it on display like they do. It’s a temptation. Can you cook?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll find out, I suppose.’
‘It’s a poky little kitchen. If I get in there, which has to be sideways, I don’t have room to open the cupboards.’
‘That must be a problem.’
Ada took this as the green light. ‘I can get the stuff if you’d be willing to cook for both of us. And you don’t have to worry about breakfast.’ Ada gave a wide, disarming smile. ‘You’re thinking I don’t eat a cooked breakfast, aren’t you?’
‘I wasn’t thinking anything.’
‘There’s a foreign girl called Hildegarde in the room under ours and she likes to cook. I’m teaching her English. She knows some really useful words now: eggs, bacon, tomatoes, fried bread. If you want a good breakfast, just say the word to Hildegarde.’
‘I don’t know if I’ll be staying long.’
‘You don’t know, full stop,’ said Ada. ‘Could be only a couple of hours. Could be months.’
‘I hope not.’
‘Do you like bacon? I’ve got a whole side of bacon in the freezer.’
‘Where did that come from?’
Ada wobbled with amusement. ‘The back of a lorry in Green Street. The driver was delivering to a butcher’s. He was round the front arguing with a traffic warden, so I did some unloading for him, slung it over my shoulder and walked through the streets. I got looks, but I get looks anyway. They shouldn’t leave the stuff on view if they don’t want it to walk. I’ve got eggs, tomatoes, peppers, mushrooms, spuds. We can have a slap-up supper tonight. Hildegarde will cook. We can invite her up to eat with us.’
‘Actually, I bought my own,’ Rose said.
‘Good,’ said Ada Shaftsbury, failing or refusing to understand. ‘We’ll pool it. What did you get?’
‘Salad things mostly.’
‘In all honesty I can’t say I care much for salad, but we can use it as a garnish for the fry-up,’Ada said indistinctly through her second Danish.
Rose’s long-term memory may have ceased to function, but the short-term one delivered. ‘It’s a nice idea, but I’d rather not eat until the police have been.’
‘The said Ada, going pale.
‘They’re going to take some photos.’
‘In here, you mean?’
‘Well, I’ve got some scars on my legs. If you don’t mind, it would be easiest in here.’
‘I’ll go down the chippie for supper,’Ada decided.
‘I don’t want to drive you out. It’s your room as much as mine.’
‘You carry on, petal. If there’s a cop with a camera, I’m not at home. We’ll have our fry-up another day.’
She gulped the rest of her tea and was gone in two minutes.
The photography didn’t start for a couple of hours, and Ada had still not returned.
Having the pictures taken was more of a major production than Rose expected, but she was relieved that the photographer
Jenny thoughtfully put a chair against the door.
‘Okay, the back view first. Arms at your side. Fine… Now the front shot. Relax your arms, dear… My, you’re getting some prize-winning bruises there. Sure you’re not a rugby player?… Now I think we’d better do a couple without the undies, don’t you? I mean the blue bits don’t stop at your pantie-line.’
Rose swallowed hard, stripped to her skin and was photographed unclothed in a couple of standing poses.
‘You can dress again now,’Jenny said. ‘I’ll tell you one thing. Whoever you are, you’re not used to flaunting it in front of a camera.’
Three
Rarely in his police career had Detective Superintendent Peter Diamond spent so many evenings at home. He was starting to follow the plot-lines in the television soaps, a sure sign of under-employment. Even the cat, Raffles, had fitted Diamond seamlessly into its evening routine, springing onto his lap at nine-fifteen (after a last foray in the garden) and remaining there until forced to move – which did not usually take long.
One evening when it was obvious that Raffles’ tolerance was stretched to breaking point, Stephanie Diamond remarked, ‘If you relaxed, so would he.’
‘But I’m not here for his benefit.’
‘For yours, my love. Why don’t you stroke him? He’ll purr beautifully if you encourage him. It’s been proved to reduce blood pressure.’
He gave her a sharp look. ‘Mine?’
‘Well, I don’t mean the cat’s.’
‘Who says my blood pressure is too high?’ She knew better than to answer that. Her overweight husband hadn’t had a check-up in years. ‘I’m just saying you should unwind more. You sit there each evening as if you expect the phone to ring any moment.’
He said offhandedly, ‘Who’s going to ring me?’
She returned to the crossword she was doing. ‘Well, if you don’t know…’
He placed his hand on the cat’s back, but it refused to purr. ‘I take it as a positive sign. If there’s a quiet phase at work, as there is now, we must be winning the battle. Crime prevention.’
Stephanie said without looking up, ‘I expect they’re all too busy watering the geraniums.’
His eyes widened.
‘This is Bath,’ she went on, ‘the Floral City. Nobody can spare the time to commit murders.’
He smiled. Steph’s quirky humour had its own way of keeping a sense of proportion in their lives.
‘Speaking of murder,’ he said, ‘he’s killed that camellia we put in last spring.’
“Who has?’
‘Raffles.’
The cat’s ears twitched.
‘He goes to it every time,’ Diamond insensitively said. ‘Treats it as his personal privy.’
Stephanie was quick to defend the cat. ‘It isn’t his fault. We made a mistake buying a camellia. They don’t like a lime soil. They grow best in acid ground.’
‘It is now.’
He liked to have the last word. And she knew it was no use telling him to relax. He’d never been one for
