Ingeborg was still on the phone.
He started opening the drawers of the desk where she was seated. Pens, Post-its, unused paper, envelopes, a stapler. Not the stuff he was looking for.
Well hidden, he decided. Perry would have realised Miss Divine knew the combination and could look inside the flat at any time.
If you didn’t want your landlady to find something, where would you keep it?
The kitchen area? He’d already concluded that the guy existed mainly on meals he microwaved. There wasn’t a toaster, a blender or a crockpot. The saucepans on the hob looked squeaky clean. The pedal bin was empty. There was little in the cupboard above the microwave except two mugs and several plates of different sizes, a packet of cornflakes, a cut loaf and teabags. The coffee was in a packet inside the fridge — which also contained milk, apple juice and two cartons of spread that Diamond opened, just to be certain.
Perry appeared to have achieved the ultimate in lean cuisine. He didn’t buy pasta, potatoes or eggs. Even Diamond, who lived a low-maintenance life when at home, sometimes cooked himself bacon and eggs. Two slices of back and two extra large ones. Actually with tomatoes. Throw in some mushrooms. And a sausage or two, not forgetting a slice of fried bread.
In fact, you would have wondered if anyone lived here at all were it not for the freezer below the fridge, stuffed with pre-cooked meals from Waitrose. He lifted them out and made sure nothing else was underneath. Then he ripped the packaging off each one and made sure it was what the label claimed before tossing them all back. They’d be no use to Perry now. No use to anyone, for who would want a dead man’s unused food?
He opened the microwave and ran his finger along the side. Definitely used on a regular basis.
A sigh was his private show of disappointment. It seemed his theory was unfounded. He couldn’t think where else to look. Back of the wardrobe, under the bed, behind the curtains? All checked.
Ingeborg finished her call. ‘Guv.’
‘Mm?’
‘The SOCOs found a smartphone clipped to his belt. An iPhone 7 plus. Top of the range.’
‘Where is it now?’
‘With the MDE.’
‘Have a heart, Inge.’
‘Mobile device examiner. The crime scene team put it in an evidence bag and handed it in.’
‘Who is this — anyone I know?’
‘A young guy called Hector seconded from Bristol. I doubt whether any of us knows him.’
‘He’d better be good. Soon as we get back we’ll look him up. I’m thinking we’ve done all we can in this place.’
‘What were you searching for when I was phoning?’
‘I had a thought, that’s all. There isn’t much evidence of heavy spending here, but he would have got large payouts for the events he arranged. Crossed my mind that most of it could have gone on drugs.’
‘Why not?’ Ingeborg said, eyes widening. ‘Worth checking, for sure. He was living a life on the edge. Setting up these shows had to be stressful. And he didn’t eat much, going by what’s in the fridge and the food cupboard. He was painfully thin and that’s often a sign.’
‘Yep, but I made my search and found nothing.’
‘What would he have used? Not heroin, surely? He wouldn’t want to get drowsy.’
‘Coke, I expect. Supposed to make you alert and confident.’
‘Where would he store it?’
‘I’m no expert. I think they use plastic bags or containers. The main thing with cocaine is to keep it from getting moist, so it needs airtight storage in a cool place.’
‘The freezer?’
‘Not in this case. You saw me going through the packs of macaroni cheese and cottage pie. All innocent. My theory had better be put on hold. What’s that?’
Both of them turned at the sound of the door clicking.
‘Me,’ Gilbert said, freshly returned from downstairs. ‘I had to wait my turn. Someone had brought in a stray dog.’
‘It’s a shop, not a dog pound.’
‘Tell that to the lady who found the dog.’
‘What does Miss Divine say?’
‘She put down some food and water and phoned the RSPCA.’
Diamond rolled his eyes. ‘I meant what did she say about Perry?’
‘He didn’t have a car. Like you thought, he used taxis to get about.’
‘Okay, we’re done. Let’s go. We haven’t learned as much as I hoped.’
Ingeborg asked Gilbert to help her carry the computer downstairs. It was an all-in-one machine, twenty-three inches, not particularly heavy, but awkward. They wrapped it in a bed sheet from the linen chest.
‘This could be our best bet,’ she said.
‘Our only bet,’ Gilbert said.
‘No, the SOCOs found his phone.’
They started the careful descent of the stairs, Diamond leading.
Halfway downstairs, he changed his mind, stopped and almost sent the three of them and the PC crashing to the bottom. ‘Thought of something.’
‘The umbrella?’ Ingeborg held it out to show she hadn’t forgotten it.
‘No. Excuse me.’ He pushed past them both and up to the top. Straight to the cupboard over the microwave. Reached for the cornflakes.
The carton had been opened but felt full, and heavier than it should. The flap at the top was fastened. He flicked it up and looked at the cornflakes inside. Pulled out the inner bag.
Secreted underneath was a plastic box used to store 35mm slides — except that there were no slides in there.
When he lifted the lid he found it was packed with layers of folded paper. He took one out, unwrapped it and found a small quantity of white powder.
What next? In movies and TV, the detective dips a finger — always the small finger — into the substance and tastes it. Diamond was far too experienced to risk poisoning himself.
‘Good find, guv,’ Ingeborg said with real admiration. ‘Is that what I think it is — wraps of some drug?’
‘I’ll be surprised if it isn’t.’
‘What made you think of the cornflakes?’
‘The crockery. He had plates and mugs, but no bowl. How would he eat his cornflakes on a flat plate?’
19
Georgina was pacing the CID room, lioness-like, when they returned. Gilbert entered first holding the computer still wrapped in the bed sheet. Diamond and Ingeborg followed. All of them were drenched.
‘Still tipping it down,’ Diamond said unnecessarily.
Georgina was eyeing the small object he was carrying wrapped in a pillow case. ‘What’s that?’
‘We’re not certain, ma’am. I’ve kept it covered.’
‘Is it alive?’
‘I hope not. It may be cocaine. I need to get it analysed.’
‘Cocaine from Perry’s flat?’
He nodded. ‘If I’m right, he’s more than just a pyro.’
Her face went through a series of rapid reactions, from interest to shock to guilt, and Diamond knew why. A suspected cocaine user had been given police permission — her permission — to stage the biggest firework display ever seen in Bath. ‘Does he have a record?’
‘We haven’t checked yet. We’re treating him as a victim, not a suspect.’
She’d gone from Post Office red to Kleenex white. ‘I took him to be a competent young man. I ought to have checked with the PNC. Things could have gone disastrously wrong.’
Could have gone wrong? Diamond was tempted to say that a fatal shooting was worse than wrong, but he spared Georgina’s feelings. No doubt she was thinking in terms of mortars smashing through windows in the Royal Crescent and creating an inferno of Bath’s most glorious building. ‘If it’s all the same with you, ma’am, we’ll get out of our wet things and take these items to someone who can deal with them.’
‘Do that,’ she said, her eyes glazed.
Diamond started to walk away, but Georgina’s powers of recovery were legend.