He took a long look up and down the street. There were parked cars in plenty, but not one appeared to be occupied. Taking Georgina’s key from his pocket, he unlocked her front door and pushed it open.
Then he returned to the car and opened the rear door.
“OK. Go.”
Anna emerged with head bowed, like someone in custody going into court, and hurried across the pavement and inside.
Diamond allowed himself a sigh of relief.
Then she came straight out again, just as quickly, and got back into the car.
“For Christ’s sake!” he said.
“There’s a big white cat in there,” she said from the back seat. “I can’t stand cats.”
“Flaming hell! I’m trying to save you from a serial killer!”
“I’m not going in there.”
“Get your head down. I’ll deal with it.”
He marched into Georgina’s house and spotted Sultan reposing in a circular bed made of padded fabric. The cat heard him and fixed its blue eyes on him, ears pricked. Diamond scooped up the bed with the cat inside and carried it through the house to the patio door. “Does she put you outside sometimes?” he said aloud. “Calls of nature? I expect so.” He opened the door and set cat and bed on the paving.
Anna was persuaded into the house with extreme reluctance.
“What is it about you and cats-an allergy?” he asked.
“A phobia,” she said, her arms protectively across her chest. “You’ll have to find me some other place.”
A quick solution. His own house? No, she’d never agree to stay there. Another hotel? Too obvious. There was only one option. He said, “I’ll take the cat home with me.” The change of plan wouldn’t please Georgina one bit if she found out, but it would have to suffice.
Anna still looked twitchy. “Are you sure there isn’t another one?”
“Another cat? No. There’s only Sultan. I’m going to fetch your cases now. Why don’t you go through to the kitchen and put the kettle on for a coffee?”
She said, “Sod coffee. I need a tequila. Where’s the cocktail cabinet?”
Leaving her to go exploring, he spent the next minutes struggling with the luggage. The cases all had to go upstairs.
He was short of breath when he finished. In the living room he grabbed the Scotch she’d poured him.
“Whose gaff is this?” Anna asked in a calmer voice. She’d settled into one of Georgina’s armchairs, her legs dangling over one of the arms.
“One of my female colleagues.”
“Her taste in music sucks. Have you seen the CDs? It’s all Gilbert and Sullivan and Verdi.”
It would be. He remembered Georgina telling him she sang in the Bath Camerata. “It’s a comfortable house,” he said, taking the chair opposite her.
“And I’m stuck in it,” Anna said. “I was told if I came to Bath I’d be free to do those high-tone shops and restaurants. Now I discover this frigging killer is out there. How did he suss that I was in the hotel?”
“Not from me,” Diamond stated firmly. “You’re famous. Were you recognised when you registered?”
“Who knows? There were people around in the lobby. No one took a picture or asked for my autograph, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t spot me.”
“That’s probably what happened, then.”
“And you think the killer got wise to it? How?”
“He’s a very smart operator. He knew Matthew Porter was in a safe house and he found a way of getting inside and abducting him.”
She shuddered. “He wouldn’t know I’ve moved here… would he?”
He shook his head and tried to think of words that would reassure. His usually brusque manner wasn’t going to work here. He could empathise with Anna’s fears. He was starting to feel quite fatherly towards her. Under her glib exterior was a frightened young girl. “Only you and I know where you are at this minute. You’ll be safe if you don’t go out.”
With a touch of spirit he admired, she said wistfully, “No shopping today? I’ll call AmEx, tell them to relax.”
“Some other time.”
“Pete,” she said, “you’re not the fascist pig I first took you for. You’re doing a fine job.”
“And you can help me find him.”
“How?” she asked. “I don’t know the jerk.”
“Correction. You don’t know who he is.”
“Come again.”
“But you may know him,” he pointed out. “There’s got to be a reason why he targeted you.”
She said, “There are freaks out there who hate anyone who makes it big in the music industry.”
“The others weren’t musicians.”
“They were celebs like me.”
“Did you ever meet Axel Summers?”
“No.”
“Matthew Porter?”
She swirled her drink in the glass and took a long swig. “I don’t even know what he looks like.”
“Not too good, the last I heard.” He glanced across the room. Anna had her back to the patio window, which was fortunate, because she couldn’t see Sultan standing, front paws pressed to the glass, asking to be let in. “Do you do any singing at all these days?”
“No, I called time on that. I don’t need to work any more.”
“You’re still a name everyone knows. Do you get asked to do charity work?”
“All the time. I cut the appearances right down after Wally, my husband, died. Financially I still have a big stake in British Metal and I wanted to contribute in the best way I could.”
“British Metal, you said?” He was on high alert now. He’d heard of British Metal in another context.
“Wally’s empire, one of the top ten in the country. You knew that, didn’t you? So I invented this role for myself, chairing a committee that looks at the public profile of the company. I know one hell of a lot about PR from my own career.”
“You don’t get involved in the technical side?”
“Jesus, no. You work to your strengths. All my experience is in the music business.”
“Heavy metal, not British Metal.”
She managed to laugh. “Yah. I leave the nuts and bolts stuff to the experts, the people Wally trusted.”
“So as well as deciding which good causes to support…?”
“We sponsor events. And celebs, if they’re big enough. The aim is to give us a higher profile in the media.”
“You make the decisions?”
“As chair of my committee, yes, it’s my gig, basically. It was my idea to do this properly. When Wally was alive he dealt with it all himself when things came up. He was a sweetie and clever with it, but between you and me, Pete, it was anyone’s guess who got lucky. He’d give thousands of pounds away without asking what the firm got back in publicity. A lot of it went on bursaries and sponsoring research that had nothing to do with British Metal. When I came in, I made sure the money was used for projects that put our name before the public.”
He was deeply intrigued, his brain racing. “What sort?”
“Don’t ask me about the nitty-gritty. My committee does all the hard work. I just use my eyes. I see the racing on TV and I’m not looking at the gee-gees. I’m checking the product placement. I go back to my committee and say I want to see British Metal in large letters along the finishing straight, and they see to it. I watch a new film on TV and I look out for the little commercial the sponsor gets in every break just before the show begins again. ”
“So you moved into film sponsorship?” Diamond could scarcely contain his excitement at hearing things that promised at last to steer him to the origin of the mystery. “You put a large amount of finance into the film about
