‘I’ll have to, won’t I?’
They were in his front room in Weston after a meal at his local. These days the Old Crown called itself a gastro pub and had a chef and served dauphinoise potato with some of the dishes, but you could still get the classic fish and chips he always ordered there. Paloma had settled for the Cornish hake fillet with wild mushrooms, wild garlic and Jersey royals, so both of them had been catered for.
Raffles padded into the room and tried jumping on to Paloma’s lap, but needed scooping up. His rear legs weren’t as strong as they’d once been. Once in place, he started purring — as if he knew who had provided the gourmet salmon and whole shrimps he had just enjoyed. Normally he subsisted on a diet of Whiskas and dry food.
‘You spoil him,’ Diamond told her.
‘He needed fussing up.’ She smoothed her hand gently over the warm fur. ‘He’s rather thin these days.’
‘It’s his age.’
‘How old is he now?’
‘I don’t speak of it in his presence. All I know is he costs me a fortune at the vet’s.’
‘He was Steph’s cat, wasn’t he?’
He nodded. ‘A stray kitten who just walked in when we first moved into this place. That was the year I was dealing with a bunch of oddballs who met in the crypt at St. Michael’s to discuss crime stories. Crime experts — the Bloodhounds, they called themselves — and would you believe they didn’t know a real murderer was among them? Anyway, Steph was here holding the fort as usual, trying to unpack cardboard boxes and suddenly became aware of this little tabby exploring them. She was captivated but did the decent thing and asked around and eventually took him up to the place for strays at Claverton.’
‘I think I know the rest.’
‘Yes, she kept asking if anyone had claimed him and they hadn’t. He settled in here as if it was meant to be.’
‘He’s smart.’
‘He helped me through the worst time of my life. I’ll be gutted when he goes.’
‘Don’t think about it. Enjoy him while you’ve got him.’
‘We’re all going to go sometime.’
‘Snap out of it, Peter. You’re getting morbid.’
‘One of those newspapers called me a veteran. “Veteran detective Peter Diamond.” That was a first.’
She laughed. ‘Did you take that to heart? Treat it as a compliment. They might as well have called you a safe pair of hands or a mastermind.’
‘Not if they’d seen me flipflopping over this damned case. Even my own team are losing patience.’
‘There’s always a low point, isn’t there? You’ve passed it now. Onwards and upwards.’
In truth, it felt to him like backwards and downwards. The Beau Nash enquiry had been progressing nicely, with a named victim, a place and time of death and a potential suspect. Now he was back to an anonymous set of bones. ‘I still need your help.’
‘How exactly?’
‘With the clothes. We’ve got them at the police office now. Would you come and give an expert opinion?’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Please.’
‘There you are, then,’ Paloma said. ‘Already moving on.’
‘The things the victim was wearing look authentic, being in such a bad state, but I wonder if it’s fancy dress. I’ve got to assume he liked dressing up.’
‘In which case the garments are unlikely to be genuine eighteenth-century. The real things are museum pieces. We don’t let anyone try them on.’
‘You’re talking about the Fashion Museum?’
‘Of course.’ The collection in the Assembly Rooms in Bennett Street was almost Paloma’s second home.
‘Where would anyone go if they wanted to hire an outfit for one of those balls you mentioned? A fancy-dress shop?’
‘There are three or four in the area, but I’m not sure if that’s what you mean. Those places stock a whole range of things for hen and stag parties and the like. Gorilla suits, Frankenstein outfits.’
‘Cheap and vulgar.’
‘Not all of it. They have some better-made clothes. But the class of people who attend the balls tend to go to theatrical costumiers or specialist suppliers. You can hire some gorgeous things and if what you want is not in stock you get it handmade.’
‘Probably in the Far East.’
She smiled.
‘Wigs?’
‘They supply those, too. All the gear. Where’s your laptop? I’ll show you.’
‘You won’t. It’s not here.’
‘You’re incorrigible. How do you manage your life, paying bills and checking bank statements?’
‘The post mostly.’
‘Take my word for it, then. For well-made clothes you’d go to one of the firms I’m talking about. Tomorrow I’ll look at the stitching and see if I can tell you some more.’
‘There’s quite a bit of this dressing-up going on, is there?’
‘More than you’d think. I’ve heard of several annual balls at the Assembly Rooms and the Guildhall with more than three hundred guests immaculately dressed. Admittedly there’s some licence over which period is represented. An early Georgian gown might be seen at a Regency ball.’
‘Is that a sin?’
‘It’s about a hundred years different. Fashion is always changing. As well as the balls there are private parties going on all the time and charity dos and civic occasions when the town lashes out and goes all Jane Austen.’
‘The costume firms do good business, then?’
‘Their stock would amaze you.’
‘It would depress me. But it’s an obvious line of enquiry. Nobody has yet explained how an old guy in eighteenth-century clothes ends up in a loft in Twerton. Do you get old men attending these affairs at the Assembly Rooms?’
‘Certainly. They’re often the ones who can afford to be there. It’s not just dancing. There’s usually supper and card games. Gambling.’
‘Have you been?’
‘No, but I wouldn’t mind,’ Paloma said. ‘Would you?’
‘Not my scene.’
‘There’s drinking.’
‘Not beer-drinking, I bet. And I don’t suppose the dancing is jive.’
‘It’s all in period, as it should be. Before a ball they offer classes for people to learn the steps. You’d be all right.’
‘I didn’t think we were talking about me.’
10
Next morning the murder squad was in session.
‘We’ll get nowhere until we identify the victim,’ Diamond told the team. The intent in his voice was obvious to all. He was in no mood for sarcasm from anyone. ‘Male, elderly, five-eight in height. And toothless. Must have had a reason to be dressed in eighteenth-century costume and wig. The marks of interest on the bones are the damage to the ribs and hand and the indications that he was old. Have I missed anything?’
‘The absence of hair,’ Ingeborg said.
He hadn’t seen this as significant, so he waited for her to explain.
‘We seem to be assuming he was bald and we could be wrong about that.’
‘I’m not assuming anything.’
‘What I mean is that we should look for hair. Hair survives longer than anything except the bones.’
‘Dr. Waghorn didn’t find any on the scalp,’ Diamond said. ‘He’s painstaking and he’d know the importance. But you’re right, Ingeborg. We won’t give up on this.’
‘If we can find a single hair there’s information to be got from it. Will Waghorn have searched the clothes for hairs when he was undressing the skeleton?’
Paul Gilbert chipped in with, ‘And the inside of the wig?’
‘He’s extremely thorough and he had an experienced assistant. They used evidence bags, so I suppose there could be the odd hair lurking inside. Forensics will do their own check. I’m having the clothes examined by an expert today to see if they’re genuine eighteenth-century — which has now been thrown into doubt.’