‘Really? Someone as new as that?’
‘To be candid, most of us were rather relieved that someone else’s name was put forward. We weren’t queuing up for the honour. We agreed it would be the best possible outcome.’
‘There were no suspicions about Sidney?’
‘Not at that time. He’d made himself very agreeable, never missed a meeting and appeared to be a Beau Nash fanatic like the rest of us, but with a sense of fun. He once gave us a talk on the Beau’s witty sayings — a book of them was published after Nash died — but to be brutally honest, eighteenth-century humour hasn’t stood the test of time, so we were enjoying Sidney’s wit rather than the Beau’s. I do remember the session as hugely entertaining.’
‘So Sidney was all set to succeed Lord Deganwy as the Beau?’
‘That was the intention and nobody objected, but it never happened. Between David’s announcement and the meeting when we were supposed to welcome Sidney as our new president, he vanished.’
‘Sidney Harrod did?’
‘Yes, without a word of explanation to David or any of us. Simply disappeared into thin air. We were all completely mystified. He wasn’t answering phone calls and his landlady said he hadn’t spoken to her about going. In fact, he owed six months’ rent. Only later did it emerge that he’d been steadily disposing of David’s furniture. He even took off with David’s Beau Nash costume, which was genuine eighteenth-century and extremely valuable.’
A genuine eighteenth-century costume stolen by a man who had gone missing more than twenty years ago? It ticked a lot of boxes.
‘You just mentioned his landlady. Who was she?’
‘I can’t answer that. I only heard about it later, at third hand. I’ve no idea where his lodgings were.’
‘Didn’t you report this swindler to the police?’
‘Me?’
‘All of you.’
Algy shook his head. ‘There was this period of uncertainty that lasted several months. When he missed one meeting without explanation, we didn’t think anything of it. David Deganwy was increasingly confused and when the next meeting came and David didn’t turn up either, we asked Orville Duff to take over on a temporary basis. He was a good man, was Orville. He called on David and pieced together what had happened. That’s how we learned about Sidney’s appalling behaviour. Poor old David was succumbing to dementia. He couldn’t be sure whether he’d voluntarily handed over the things to that thieving scoundrel. Anyway, the furniture went, the costume went, and so did Sidney.’
‘Was the wig taken as well?’
‘The black Beau Nash wig? I believe it was,’ Algy said. ‘David was in poor health by then and died soon after.’
Behind them the toilet door opened and the limping woman emerged and glided by without making eye contact.
‘Was any more heard of Sidney Harrod?’
‘Not a whisper. I suppose he did what conmen do and moved away to some other city to start up under a new identity.’
Diamond didn’t comment. He had his own opinion where Sidney had ended up. ‘Were his lodgings in Twerton, by any chance?’
‘I already said I couldn’t tell you.’
‘So the police were never informed?’
‘Not to my knowledge.’
‘And Professor Duff took over?’
‘He died in office, too, not long after. Lung cancer.’
‘Does anyone have pictures of these guys? Does the club keep a photo album of the annual balls?’
‘I’ve never seen one. However, we do have the portraits of past presidents. Didn’t you notice them in the anteroom?’
‘It was such a crush in there I didn’t see anything like that. I’ll take a look presently. There won’t be one of Sidney, I guess.’
‘Emphatically not. He’s persona non grata.’
‘You said he was about seventy.’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you have any memory of his teeth?’
Algy blinked at the question. ‘Not particularly.’
‘Is it possible he had false teeth?’
He tapped his forehead as if it was a cash dispenser supplying memories rather than banknotes. ‘They may well have been false. He was a good-looking man for his age, I have to admit.’
‘Are you picturing him right now?’
‘The smile. He was constantly smiling. Regular teeth certainly, but I couldn’t say for sure whether they were artificial. That’s the whole point of modern dentistry, isn’t it, to make them appear real? I’ve had some implants myself.’
‘I’m not talking implants. I mean a complete set of dentures he could remove when he wished.’
Algy plainly didn’t know.
‘Is there anyone else among the current members who was around at the time?’
After a moment’s thought, Algy said, ‘I’m sorry. I believe I’m the only one left. Even Ed Paris wasn’t in the society then. I expect you were hoping for someone sharper than me. I haven’t been much help.’
‘You’ve been a fantastic help.’ Diamond hadn’t given up on the possibility of finding a photo of Sidney Harrod. ‘Were the press invited to the annual ball?’
‘The local press, you mean? I don’t think we were reported in the Bath Chronicle but there was a glossy magazine called Bath City Life that covered all kinds of social events and sometimes we got into that. You might even find a picture of him there.’
‘We can try. He was probably smart enough to dodge the camera. What height was he?’
‘Average.’
‘Did he have much hair?’
‘I couldn’t tell you. We all wore wigs for the meetings. I know exactly why you’re interested and I wish I could tell you more. Tantalising, isn’t it?’
‘That’s one way of putting it,’ Diamond said.
23
‘Before you say anything, guv, you’d better brace yourself,’ Ingeborg told him when he walked into the CID room next morning as chirpy as a sparrow at first light.
Then he saw the worry lines on Ingeborg’s face.
‘Why?’
‘A call from Dr. Waghorn about the piece of bone John Leaman dug up at Twerton.’ She paused, looked into his suddenly hostile eyes and almost took a step away. ‘It’s not human.’
He’d tried to prepare for bad news as she’d suggested, and still the shock came like a kick in the stomach. ‘What is it, then?’
‘Sheep.’
‘Get away.’
‘Really. It was from a sheep. Our theory about the wife being murdered and buried there isn’t looking too good this morning.’
‘Hell.’
‘Apparently the bulbous bit at the head of the femur is roughly similar in size and shape although the shaft is longer in a human.’
‘Waghorn is certain?’
‘You know him better than I do. He sounded very sure on the phone. And horribly smug.’
‘So you took the call yourself?’
‘John wasn’t in, so I got the full blast. What a smart-arse. He was going on about osteons, which evidently contain the channels or canals carrying the blood supply through the bone. Under the microscope he was able to make measurements proving that the bone wasn’t human.’
‘Why would a sheep be buried in a garden?’
‘The dog.’
‘Sheep, you said.’
‘I’m trying to answer your question,’ Ingeborg said through gritted teeth, showing she was feeling frayed herself. ‘Waghorn also said the femur showed signs of being chewed by a carnivore. I’m thinking of Tank’s dog. Tank the squatter. His greyhound, remember? They were living in the Twerton house and dogs like nothing better than burying old bones. My guess is that the dog was given a mutton bone to chew on and it dug a hole and buried it at the bottom of the garden.’