‘Who?’
‘Don’t mess with me, Newburn. You know about the shooting.’
‘Shooting?’
‘At the fireworks Saturday night.’
‘I can’t help you. I wasn’t there.’
‘But you knew the victim.’ Having given the sharp shock, Diamond offered some reassurance, the possibility that this might not be a drug bust after all. ‘We’re speaking to everyone he came into contact with. He was a client of yours.’
‘What makes you say that?’ The little man was stalling.
‘We searched his flat and found some wraps. Your handiwork, I’m reliably informed. Before you say another word, I’m not here to pull you in. I’m investigating murder, not the dealing.’
Newburn swallowed hard, getting over the first shock and deciding how to react. It seemed he was ready to talk. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Did he come here to buy?’
A nod.
‘On a regular basis?’
‘It was occasional, after a payday, I suppose. His work wasn’t regular.’
‘Did he buy in bulk, then?’
‘He preferred it that way and so did I.’
‘How did he find you?’
‘Through a recommendation, he said. He came in one morning.’
‘With a large amount of cash?’
‘Of course.’
‘A recommendation from another user? Did he say who?’
‘No.’
‘When would this first visit have been?’
‘Towards the middle of last year. I haven’t known him long.’
‘Did you get the impression he’d moved on from another seller?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘That’s not good enough. You must have formed an opinion.’
‘All right. I suppose he had. Why do you ask?’
‘Another supplier may have felt he was justified in killing him.’
‘Oh, I doubt that. Not in Bath.’
‘It’s all very civilised here, is it? A shake of the hands and a fond goodbye. Was Perry Morgan already an experienced user? Did he know about quality and prices?’
‘He wasn’t a beginner.’
‘He’s quite well known in Bath. Did you recognise him?’
‘Not when he first came in. Later I saw his picture in the press, but I didn’t let on. My better-known clients prefer it that way.’
‘Did he ever reveal anything about his situation?’
‘You mean his finances? Never. They don’t like you knowing what they can afford.’
‘Or you raise the price?’
He was tight-lipped.
‘Actually I meant his personal life. He had a flat above a shop in Union Passage and lived alone there.’
‘He never spoke of anyone else. I wouldn’t expect him to.’
This wasn’t stonewalling, Diamond decided. If the landlady, Miss Divine, was to be believed, Perry had guarded his privacy. Newburn was scum, but his account so far rang true.
‘Is there anyone in the drug community who may have wished him dead?’
‘Not to my knowledge. Why should they? It’s the middlemen like me who are most at risk of violence.’
Indisputably true, but if this toerag wanted sympathy from Peter Diamond he wouldn’t get any.
‘How do you protect yourself? Do you have a gun?’
Newburn didn’t say anything. The change in his skin colour was the giveaway.
‘So you do.’
‘I told you I wasn’t there when he was shot. Besides, I had no reason to wish him dead.’
‘Where’s it kept?’
‘I’ve never used it.’ His right hand moved towards the inner pocket of his jacket.
‘Don’t.’
‘I was about to show you.’
‘I’ll see for myself.’ Diamond stepped forward, pulled open the front of the pink jacket and removed a small black gun. Going by the weight, it was loaded. ‘Dinky.’
But it was an automatic and they eject the casings at the scene. This couldn’t have been the weapon used in the murder.
‘Self-defence,’ Newburn said. ‘I meet some unpleasant people in the course of my work.’
‘Snap,’ Diamond said.
‘Are you going to charge me?’
‘What with — possession of an unlicensed weapon? Not at this minute. I have more important things to do. You’ll hear from us.’
He pocketed the gun and left soon after.
Georgina had warned him that taking on a new case of murder when he was already dealing with the Twerton skeleton would stretch him and she was right. This evening he was due to attend the Beau Nash Society meeting wearing the rented costume — a challenge that required a different mindset from dealing with pond life like Newburn. He needed time to prepare, so instead of returning to Concorde House, he decided to knock off early. First, he phoned Keith Halliwell.
All the key people in CID were usefully occupied, Halliwell told him. Leaman had informed everyone he was in charge of a third investigation. He was currently waiting for news from Dr. Waghorn about the bone dug up at Twerton. A team of crime scene examiners was already on site lifting more fragments. Five DCs were knocking on doors making yet more enquiries about the earlier tenants of the terrace. Ingeborg was with Hector, the mobile device examiner, checking the contents of Perry Morgan’s phone. Paul Gilbert was at the university going through enrolment records to see if Morgan had ever been a student there.
‘And how about you?’ Diamond asked Halliwell.
‘Standing in for you, guv.’
‘Standing or sitting?’
‘Doing what you would normally do if you were here. Someone has to oversee it all. How did it go with the gallery owner?’
Diamond updated him and then said, ‘I won’t be back tonight. It’s the Beau Nash bunfight and I need to get ready.’
‘Rather you than me.’
He drove home and phoned Paloma. She had already offered to help him get into the costume before driving him to the house in the Circus where the meeting was to take place. She suggested he came about 5:30, which left time to freshen up.
But not before he’d fed the cat. Raffles made sure of that with some heart-rending mewing. The years had taken their toll of some of the wily old tabby’s abilities, but he was more vocal than ever.
Rarely had Diamond looked forward to a shower so much. Visiting Newburn had left him feeling dirty. There were no marks for the soap and water to remove. It was all in the mind, yet the act of cleansing felt as necessary as if he’d been back to the crime scene and jumped into one of Leaman’s trenches.
He’d always found showering a sure way of relieving mental stress. He didn’t go to the extreme of the James Bond method, starting with warm water and turning it down to finish stone cold. The Peter Diamond shower was hot, strong, steady and unchanging, a perfect recipe for fresh thinking.
He’d need to be sharp for his appearance at the Beau Nash Society.
When Georgina had threatened to remove him from the case and bring in Charlie Crocker he’d been forced into some wild claims. He wasn’t anywhere near Mastermind level on Beau Nash. Even so, the prospect of an evening with all those keenos and academics had influenced his bedtime reading. Instead of the latest final sensational who-would-have-thought-it unmasking of Jack the Ripper, he’d been working through a small stack of books about the Beau and the extraordinary way one charismatic Welshman had taken over and made Bath his own. Admittedly the conquest was on a lower scale than many people believe. Most of the buildings that define the modern city were simply not there when Nash arrived in 1705. No Royal Crescent, no Queen Square, no Circus, no Theatre Royal, no Assembly Rooms. Even the Great Bath had not been excavated. To call it a one-horse town might not be fair to a cathedral city, but it was largely given over to slums. The transformation from small spa to one of the architectural glories of Europe took place in the years of Nash’s supremacy and after.