On returning to street level he spotted a postman dressed in shorts, as so many are in all weathers. He went over.
“Morning, postie. Is this your regular route?”
“It is.” The postman spoke the words on the move, making clear he hadn’t much time to chat.
“It’s a part of the city I don’t know too well,” Diamond said, keeping pace. “I’m in the police, investigating the crash back there.”
“I saw.” The postman had his attention on the letters in his hand, checking address numbers.
“The driver was killed and two people are in intensive care. One of them was travelling from this direction on a tricycle. Quite early, before seven. Have you ever seen him along here?”
“No.” He hadn’t even looked up.
Diamond wasn’t letting him off so easily. “If he lived in one of these houses, he’d need to park his trike in front. I noticed bikes leaning against some of the railings. I expect you’d have spotted a trike if someone owned one.”
“I haven’t.” Which closed that line of enquiry.
Try the other, then. “Someone called 999 about a naked man in Beckford Gardens. That’s why the patrol car was here.”
Not a flicker of interest.
“Ring any bells? I’m asking you as someone who knows this neighbourhood.”
“Can’t help you,” the postman said, almost causing another accident by swinging his trolley wide and over Diamond’s foot.
“Do you mind? You don’t even sound surprised. A man with no clothes on. It’s not a common sight.”
“I expect he came up from the lido.”
A light bulb went on in Diamond’s head. Something had been on the local TV news a while back about an old Georgian swimming baths beside the Avon that had got into disrepair and was having millions spent on it. There was a trust and they’d staged some kind of open day when over a thousand people had turned up, including folk in costume looking like characters out of Jane Austen. He hadn’t connected the report with this row of poky artisan dwellings.
He almost hugged the postman. “Now that could be vital information. Would that be the outdoor pool they’re renovating with lottery money? It’s round here? I’ve heard about that, and never seen it. Where exactly is it?”
“You walked straight past.”
“You’re kidding.”
But this postman wasn’t the kidding sort. “Them two stone pillars between Fir Tree Cottage and Rose Cottage. Now can I get on with my round?”
“Is it open to the public, then?” he shouted after him.
There may have been a shake of the head. There wasn’t anything more.
He’d have to see this for himself, so he stepped out and entered the narrow passage between the terraces. The footpath was steep, and he wouldn’t care to make the descent after frost. But after being in that narrow road between the houses and the railway it was good to see the valley open up below him.
Before he had gone far, the lido came into sight among the trees, the view he remembered from the TV, a cream-coloured crescent-shaped facade reflected in the pool. The centrepiece was the supervisor’s cottage with a grey tiled roof and arched entrance. Rows of changing cubicles extended either side. They looked elegant in the context of the building, dark, perpendicular spaces at regular intervals, but he guessed the interiors would need updating to modern standards. However, it was not impossible that some resident of Beckford Gardens or Hampton Row was in the habit of going for an early-morning dip-even a skinny-dip.
He didn’t need to go right down there. He’d learned all he wanted, so he turned and picked his way up the path. When he reached Hampton Row the postman wasn’t around for further questioning.
T hat one went to plan. Silly old buffer didn’t see it coming, didn’t know anything about it. Job done. And now it’s a matter of acting normally, given that my normal is a little different from everyone else’s. The aftermath will be just as testing as the act itself. As long as I act the innocent and sound surprised by his passing I should be fine.
Sleeping reasonably well, without medication. Vivid dreams left me sweating the last couple of nights, but I know the pattern. They won’t trouble me for long.
3
His phone sounded. Even after years of using mobiles, Diamond disliked them going off unexpectedly, much preferring the old days when he could leave the office knowing no one could reach him. This time it was Bath Police and for once it was a message he wanted to hear. The emergency control room at Portishead had supplied the phone number of the caller who had spotted the naked man.
He noted it on the palm of his hand.
“And while you’re on,” he said to the civilian operator, “I’m going to need a printout of all the exchanges between our own control room and Delta Three from the time they came on duty to the moment of the crash.”
“I’ll need to speak to my supervisor about that,” she said.
“Please do-now-and be sure to tell her that this is urgently required by Professional Standards, and not just me.”
Back at the accident site, the wrecked car had already been driven away for examination by the police collision unit and the last of the oil was being hosed from the road surface. It wouldn’t be long before Beckford Gardens was open to traffic again. The only evidence of the crash would be the broken wall and the inevitable tributes of cut flowers.
He caught up with Ingeborg first. “It’s frustrating,” she said. “People want to help, but no one saw what happened.”
Keith Halliwell joined them and it was obvious from his expression that he too had nothing useful to report.
Diamond told them about the footpath down to the lido. “Could be unrelated, a complete red herring,” he said, “but I’m wondering if our naked man came up from there after an early morning dip.”
Instead of cooing in admiration, Ingeborg said, “Does it matter? He’s a side issue. He may not even exist.”
“How do you work that out?” Halliwell said.
“A nuisance call. They get them all the time.”
“You’re starting to sound like John Leaman.”
“It’s been a depressing morning. Look, whatever you think about that stupid call, it wasn’t directly responsible for the crash. The blame for that lies squarely with the driver of the police car or the old man on the trike.”
“Hang on a minute. What if no one was to blame?” Halliwell said. “What if a tyre burst or the brakes failed? Let’s keep an open mind.”
“And you’re starting to sound like Dessie.” She held up her hands. “Okay, that was a bit sweeping.”
Halliwell said, “So we all agree to follow up any lead we can get?”
Diamond had been content to let this little spat play out. Now he showed them the number on his hand.
“Go for it, guv,” Halliwell said. “Let’s find out if it was genuine.”
Ingeborg gave a nod and said no more.
Diamond pressed the numbers and waited.
A man’s voice gave a guarded, “Yes?”
Diamond explained who he was.
“Police? It’s about time. I called you over three hours ago.”
“You made the emergency call, sir?”
“Why? Do you doubt me?” The guarded voice now became aggressive. “I’ve heard that response times are a disgrace but this must be a record. What time is it now?”