The only strategy open to Diamond was to prove beyond doubt that his suspicion was right and murder had been committed.
But how?
It was just that: suspicion.
For the first time he feared that the murder case was unravelling.
16
One thing Diamond had learned in life was not to feel sorry for himself. Rage against the gods by all means, but don’t have anything to do with self-pity. It’s toxic. His back was sore, he hated the new office, the IPCC people were on the prowl and his own deputy was losing confidence in him, but would he let it drag him down?
He was too busy for that.
The funeral bash-as he thought of it-in Cavendish Crescent in May 2014 had become a pivotal event in this case. Max’s cleaner, Mrs. Stratford, had talked of mayhem and insanity when the mourners were given the green light to help themselves to the railway items. Some exaggeration, there. Coffee had been spilt, Jessie’s skirt stained. But it had created a distraction. Maybe an opportunity for Cyril-who wasn’t interested in railways-to go looking for more valuable items.
Miss Hill, the solicitor, had presided over the funeral.
He called her on her direct line.
“Thanks for the valuation photos. You’ve been a splendid help already.”
“What do you mean-already?” she said. “I do have other matters to attend to.”
“And I won’t delay you long. You made the arrangements for Massimo Filiput’s funeral, you told me.”
“He had no family. We have a duty of care for our clients, even after death.”
“Admirable-and I understand you attended in person, not just the funeral but the reception afterwards.”
“How do you know that?”
“I spoke to someone who was there, his home help, Mrs. Stratford.”
The name worked like a bunch of flowers. “A bright young woman. She gave me considerable assistance before and after the funeral. She knew where things were in the house.”
“Did she help you contact people?”
“She found his address book. I sent the details to just about everyone in it, but only a handful turned up, mostly elderly men.”
“The railway enthusiasts. This is what I was coming to. I’d like to meet them, those who are still alive.”
“You might be disappointed. They don’t have much conversation apart from steam trains.”
“I’m prepared for that.”
“This may be unkind, but I believe the only reason most of them came was to find out what would happen to his collection. I said I needed to dispose of a stack of worthless posters and magazines and they cleared the lot like locusts.”
“One of the mourners-Cyril Hardstaff-wasn’t part of that lot.”
“Yes, an old teaching colleague from Wiltshire College. Much more balanced. He spoke so warmly on the phone of Mr. Filiput that I invited him to give the eulogy and I’m glad I did. He was excellent. You should meet him.”
“Too late,” Diamond said. “He died suddenly six weeks ago.”
“Oh my word. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I wanted to check with you whether Mr. Filiput made any provision in his will for Cyril.”
“No. Everything was put up for sale and the entire proceeds went to the railway museum. I thought I told you this.”
“I needed to be certain. Between ourselves, Miss Hill, I was at Cyril’s cottage yesterday and I gave some assistance to his niece, who was clearing the place. We found a gold necklace that formerly belonged to Olga Filiput, the serpent necklace from those probate pictures I requested from you.”
He heard a sharp intake of breath.
“That’s difficult to believe.”
“I’m sorry. I promise you it’s true. It was in a velvet bag, hidden in a mattress. I suspect he stole it. I’m telling you this in confidence because I know I can rely on you.”
“I took him for a gentleman, an absolute gentleman.”
“Also a compulsive gambler under pressure to repay large debts. You wouldn’t know about that.”
“Oh my word.” An expression that in Miss Hill’s scale of shocks wasn’t far short of a major earthquake.
“If he saw something as valuable as the necklace, the temptation would be too much.”
“This is so unexpected.”
“Yes. Do you know where the jewel collection was kept?”
“Upstairs in the bedroom that was originally Olga’s.”
“In a safe?”
“In an antique tallboy.”
“With locking drawers?”
“No.”
“Could Cyril have gone up there while the reception was in full swing?”
“There was nothing to stop him or anyone else. I didn’t think security was necessary at a post-funeral gathering.”
“He may have sneaked out while the railway people were scrambling for the posters.”
“Mr. Diamond, this is so unlikely. He was the most charming man you could wish to meet.”
“I heard exactly those words from two other ladies.”
“Is it possible Max made him a present of the necklace while he was still alive?”
“A generous thought,” he said, “but why should he? I wouldn’t give away items that belonged to my late wife. Handing them to another man you play Scrabble with? It’s unlikely.”
She was still grappling with what he’d told her. “Are you suggesting he stole the other pieces of jewellery as well?”
“Very likely. He may not have taken everything at once. Remember he was a regular visitor, and even Max had a vague idea that things were missing.”
“But how could anyone give such a wonderful eulogy in the knowledge that he’d behaved as badly as that?”
“There’s an old saying: debtors are liars.”
“Oh dear, you make it sound all too possible. We’ll need to inform the sole legatee, the railway museum.”
“Not yet,” he said quickly. “Not while we’re still investigating. We’ll see what else we can recover.”
“There are legal issues, now I think about it.”
“Take your time over the fine points of law, Miss Hill. The museum can afford to wait. And there is another favour I must ask.”
“What’s that?” Her voice was an octave higher.
“Just a formality. I need the names and contact details of everyone who attended the funeral.”
“I can see to that. But you will be discreet?”
“Never more so. This is strictly sub judice as far as I’m concerned. It’s all conjecture, isn’t it?”
The official work of CID demanded his attention for the rest of the morning. John Leaman had been interviewing the church-roof robbers and now wanted to extend the enquiry by pulling in the scrap-metal merchant they did business with. Paul Gilbert was dealing with a poison-pen case, local councillors complaining about obscene letters. Both Leaman and Gilbert made clear in their different ways that they were feeling sidelined. He’d never been one for nurse-maiding his team, but they had a point. His priorities were elsewhere and it was all too obvious. He sat down with them both and forced himself to show more interest.
By lunchtime, Halliwell had the glazed expression of an election teller after an all-night count.
“No success with the care agencies?” Diamond said.
“Do you know how many there are, because I don’t and I’m only up to the letter C. Comfort Care, Candlelight, Calm and Caring, Care Matters, Call Us, Clearway, Coming to You, Come What May, Cat’s Whiskers-”
“Is that a care home? Sounds more like a cattery.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I’m in need of care myself.”
“Let’s get lunch.”
Ingeborg had phoned in and made her peace with Diamond. She was working from home.
“Unlike her,” Halliwell said. “She likes the buzz of the office.”
“She’s still hoping to find something from Pellegrini’s computer,” Diamond told him. “She can concentrate better.”
“I would have given up by now.”