“And he became a regular?”
“If once a year is regular.”
“Is he jealous?”
“Of Greg? I can’t think why.” But the colour returned to her cheeks, betraying some duplicity in her answer.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he said. “What must Will Legat have felt the first time he turned up for his annual visit and found Greg installed here, having moved in permanently with you?”
“That shows how little you know Will.”
“I see a different side of him, ma’am.”
“Negative emotions like jealousy are no good to him. He left them behind when he quit the business world and became independent. He had to be mentally strong. He expects nothing but rejection from anyone. He’ll take what’s offered, but you can’t hurt him. Big changes in our lives call for a rethink, as I well know.”
Sharp observations that rang true. She wasn’t naive. She had Legat summed up. His strength of personality fitted him well for the alternative life he had chosen. In that last remark, she was talking about her own situation. She’d adjusted to a crippling illness and now she faced another huge reversal, the loss of the man who had enabled her to continue as a potter.
Diamond found himself thinking about the drastic life changes this woman had endured. Beside them, his own current crisis was small beer. What was an enforced retirement compared to Natalie’s problems? He should be drawing strength from her bravery.
Ingeborg must have sensed his thoughts going off track. “We’re looking at a bigger picture, Natalie,” she said. “What seems to have happened to Greg is similar to what happened to two other men connected to the Swift show. Did he ever speak about people going missing?”
“Not to me.”
“I’m sure it must have preyed on his mind. There’s been a lot in the press. He could have suspected someone he knew was behind the bad things going on.”
“If you say so.”
“Anything you can think of, however trivial, may help us bring them to justice.”
Natalie shook her head. “There’s nothing. You talk about things preying on Greg’s mind, but he doesn’t let that happen. He deals with problems when they come along. My illness came as a massive shock to me. Greg didn’t agonise over it. He thought of practical solutions like finding the right aids for me, an adjustable chair and the power-driven wheel and loading the kiln himself. He runs the house as well, the cooking, the cleaning, everything.”
“That’s true devotion.”
She seemed to play the words over before saying, “I wouldn’t call it that. We had sex for a time that we both enjoyed, but we weren’t romantically attached in the way most couples are. This will make me sound a selfish bitch, but the reason I’ll miss him is that I can’t run the pottery without him.”
A piece of candour so unexpected that Diamond felt the need to chip in again, this time speaking to Ingeborg. “The help wasn’t all one way. Greg owed his career to Natalie. He got the Swift job through one of her pottery patrons. Before that, he was delivering the pots for her.”
“And before that?” Ingeborg said.
Another shake of the head from Natalie. “He doesn’t talk about his past.”
“Ever? And you didn’t ask?”
“Once or twice and then he said something like it was a closed book. He must have had an unhappy time because he’d talk in his sleep and it was obvious he was really distressed.”
“What did he say?”
She shrugged. “No idea. It was in his own language.”
Diamond sat forward. “What do you mean by that? What language?”
“He’s Romanian.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“I only found out because he renewed his passport and it arrived in the post addressed to Grigore Dinescu. He dismissed it as unimportant and told me he anglicised the name because he wants to be accepted here without having to go over the story each time he meets someone.”
Diamond was so unprepared for this that he slipped into Natalie’s way of speaking about the man as if he was still alive. “There isn’t a hint of anything foreign in his speech. I thought only a Brit could do that over-the-top theatre-speak he does.”
“He got in the way of talking like that within days of starting at Bottle Yard studios. He’s a born mimic. Before that, he spoke a kind of estuary English. The contrast made me laugh. Made us both laugh.”
“Have you asked him about his life in Romania?”
“Of course, but each time a certain look comes over his face and I know it’s not for discussion. I’ve learned since — but not from Greg — that people suffered terribly there forty years ago when he was growing up.”
Ingeborg had her phone out. “Would you spell that Romanian name?”
Inge’s efficiency prompted Diamond to find a way through his own scrambled thoughts. After Natalie had spelt the name he said, “I wonder if the passport is in his room.”
“You’re welcome to look, but it won’t be,” Natalie said. “He carries it with him at all times. People who’ve lived in police states get used to being asked for their ID.”
“We’ll check, even so,” he said. The previous room search had been made by the crime scene investigator looking for DNA, not a passport. He asked Ingeborg to see to it.
Left alone with Natalie, he said, “I think you sensed it was bad news about Greg.”
She said with an air of resignation, “When two police officers come calling, it isn’t to talk about the weather.”
“Is Will going to stay the night?”
“He said he would.” Her voice became warmer. “I’m so fortunate he was here when this happened. He’s a hero, better than the caretaker.”
“He speaks well of you.”
“It’s more than just words. Right now he could be in Bath making money from the tourists instead of looking after me.”
“I think Caesar earns the money.”
“I’m getting to appreciate him, too.”
Diamond’s brain was in overdrive, deciding whether Natalie’s so-called hero could be Greg Deans’s killer. Having walked the lane many times, Legat knew how little used it was, ideal for an ambush. He must have been well aware of the gateway to the field where the car was found. He possessed a hi-vis jacket and a knife. He would have known when Deans was expected home. He had the means of murder and the opportunity.
The motive?
A permanent home. Replace Greg. Simple as that.
When Ingeborg returned from searching the room, she spread her hands in disappointment. “No passport. Nothing personal in there except his clothes.”
Diamond turned to Natalie. “Where was Will on the evening Greg didn’t come home?”
“Will?” She spoke his name as if it hadn’t come up at all in their exchanges, but she was pink-faced again. “In the barn where he stays.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Most of the time he was. Why don’t you ask him yourself? He’s in the sitting room.”
“I’m asking you and you can’t be certain of his movements, can you?”
“I don’t know what you mean. He’s been staying here for days. He goes into Bath by day with Caesar, and they sleep here at nights.”
“Yes, but how much do you see of him?”
The blush turned even deeper. “Quite a bit more now that Greg can’t help me.”
“And before the attack?”
“He’s in here for breakfast, if that’s what you’re asking. He likes his cooked breakfast.” She added, as if in an afterthought, “And he makes himself a mug of cocoa about ten in the evening.”
“Here in the kitchen?”
“Yes. It’s a treat, he says. We have fresh milk.”
“So you saw him here the evening Greg didn’t return home? Think carefully, Natalie. Your answer is important.” Diamond didn’t speak the word “alibi” but each of them knew it was behind the question. If any of this made sense, Legat was a hard, hard man who didn’t think twice about killing people. He’d knifed Jake Nicol to death for nothing more than the belt. That and his bloodstained clothes were being held as evidence. He’d probably done for Dave Tudor for some equally trivial reason. And now Deans. All three had gone missing while he was visiting Bath. He might well have committed other unsolved murders around the country.