“Why?” Miss Stretch asked. “What’s his objection?”
“He thinks he’s going to be kept awake by late-night revellers walking up the footpath and he’s looking for any opportunity to dish the dirt. He spotted some health freak having a skinny-dip at dawn, so he called 999. That’s the kind of tosser he is. If he hadn’t made the call, Aaron Green would still be alive and the others wouldn’t have ended up in intensive care.”
“You’re getting rather worked up yourself, Mr. Diamond. We can’t turn back the clock. As it happens, Mr. Bellerby is rather important to us. He has provided the only eye-witness account of Mr. Pellegrini on his tricycle a few minutes before the collision.”
“It’s all in my report. He was wandering off course, as if he wasn’t used to riding the thing. Bellerby’s words, not mine.”
“If those really were his words, he wasn’t so explicit under questioning from us. He said the tricyclist was slightly unsteady.”
“You can’t be unsteady on a trike unless your steering is off. It’s not like being on two wheels.”
“We’re aware of that,” Dragham said. “His control or lack of it is, of course, crucial to our enquiry. Do you have an opinion why he should have been unsteady?”
“Drink, I suppose. That’s the first thing that springs to mind.”
“Inebriation? How would you account for that?”
“He could have brought a hip flask with him. It was a cool night.”
“There was no hip flask found.”
“A bottle, then. He may have slung it away. I’m guessing here. You asked me for a suggestion. If it wasn’t drink, it could have been drugs. I don’t suppose we’ll ever know.”
“We may,” Miss Stretch said. “The hospital informed us that they took a blood sample for their own information soon after he was admitted.”
This was news to Diamond. He’d thought Pellegrini had been too far gone. “Brilliant. It should show up, then. Have they tested for alcohol?”
“Unfortunately there’s a catch. Firstly, the sample belongs to the hospital. We have no power to take and test blood specimens used in the treatment of hospital patients, and neither do you, the police. Secondly, even if it was offered to you, the patient has to give consent.”
“But the patient is unconscious.”
“And therefore the sample must be kept until he is able to decide on consent. That’s the law of the land.”
“Murphy’s law.”
“I don’t follow you.”
“Also known as sod’s law. If anything can go wrong, it will.”
But in reality, Diamond didn’t think Pellegrini had been drunk or drugged. The man was too smart for that. Either he’d been unwell or exhausted or there was a fault with the tricycle.
“However, the blood sample taken at the postmortem on the police driver, PC Green, was negative for alcohol,” Miss Stretch said.
“As we all knew it would be.”
“Everything must be double-checked. Today we’re visiting the hospital to get Sergeant Morgan’s account of the crash.”
“That’ll really make his day.”
Dragham frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
“Visitors. He hasn’t had many.”
“And how will you be spending your day, superintendent?”
A low punch. He backed off fast. “There’s always plenty going on in CID.”
“Have you traced the first responders yet?”
“Who?”
“We spoke about this yesterday. The fire officers and paramedics who must have spoken to Sergeant Morgan at the scene. I thought you were on to this.”
“Top of my list but no joy so far.”
After they’d gone, he checked with Halliwell that nothing had been said about the midnight visit to the HOPS.
“They wouldn’t know about any of that stuff, guv.”
“They may after they see Lew Morgan. A lot depends on what he chooses to say. If, like me, he takes an immediate dislike, he may not tell them anything.”
“They’ll question him.”
“Doesn’t mean they’ll get answers. Lew is one of the old school of police sergeants. But if he chooses to open up with them about the rabbits, they’ll be wondering who’s the more crazy, Pellegrini or Lew himself.”
“I hope he doesn’t talk himself into trouble.”
“After losing his leg he won’t care a toss. I wouldn’t. The main thing is that Aaron the driver was negative for alcohol. They could still say he drove dangerously in some way, but it’s more than likely they’ll decide Pellegrini was responsible.” He looked around the CID room. “Where’s Ingeborg this morning?”
“She may have gone for a coffee. She sometimes goes there for peace and quiet to work on her laptop.”
“We seem to have drawn a blank with the hard disk. We have to find another way into Pellegrini’s secret life. There’s something you can do, Keith. It occurred to me as I was coming in this morning. When I first went to the house in Henrietta Road, I asked the woman who was cleaning, Mrs. Halliday, if Pellegrini drove a car as well as getting about on the trike. She said he didn’t. He has an account with a taxi firm.”
“You want me to phone around?”
“Would you? They keep a log of their journeys. I’m interested to discover if he ever took a trip to Little Langford.”
“To Cyril Hardstaff?” Halliwell’s interest quickened and he asked, “Did those two know each other?”
“They met at Filiput’s funeral.”
“Only once.”
“Apparently.”
“Hardly a reason for murder.”
“It only wanted one taxi ride.”
“But why? What had he got against Cyril?”
“Let’s cross that hurdle when we come to it. For the present I just want to know if it was possible.”
His next challenge was a phone call to the formidable solicitor, Miss Hill. She was busy, of course. He didn’t expect to get through without an effort. The receptionist said she would ask Miss Hill to call him back.
“That’s no use to me,” he said. “I need to speak to her now.”
“She’s in a meeting.”
“They always are. Remind her I’m from the police and tell her it’s an extreme emergency.”
Presently he was rewarded with Miss Hill’s stonewalling voice. “Why can’t you make an appointment like anyone else?”
“Because I’m not anyone else,” he said. “I’m a professional like you, and just as busy.”
She seemed to take that as a peace offering. “Then you can understand.”
“However,” he said.
“However what?”
“This is a matter of life and death.”
“What is?”
“You’ll need your files on the estates of Olga and Massimo Filiput. Do you have them nearby?”
At the other end of the line there was some conversation he didn’t pick up. This was encouraging, because it probably meant she had some personal assistant with her. There was the pleasing rasp of a filing cabinet being opened.
“What now?” Miss Hill asked.
“Do you also have a scanner in your office?”
After a gasp of horror, she said, “I’m not copying confidential material for you, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“I wouldn’t think of asking you,” he said, “but you and I know that wills become public documents after the testators die, so it isn’t confidential at all. I could get copies from the probate registry, but I need them urgently, and you know what bureaucracy is. For you, I’ll make it easy. All I need is the inventory of Olga’s assets, the antiques and jewellery. And for comparison, I want the corresponding document for Massimo.”
“We went through this before, in my office.”
“I know, Miss Hill. It’s a pain, but this is a fresh enquiry. Something else came up. I’ll give you my email address and you can send them through directly.”
“You said it was a life and death matter.”
“Isn’t that the definition of a will?”
His own filing system was more individual than Miss Hill’s. For days he’d been walking about with some sheets of paper stuffed in his jacket pocket: the Internet discussion forum about murder methods. He took them out and unfolded them.