‘They’ll have hightailed it by now.’ Everything about Halliwell, his voice, body language, face, showed how hard he’d taken this.
‘Put out an all-units. One of them is supposed to have form, isn’t he?’
‘That may have been a false lead,’ Leaman said. ‘Jacob is a fairly common name.’
‘Get a description from Jackman, then. If you find these two, you’re halfway to nailing the top men.’
‘What do we have from the Range Rover?’ Diamond asked. ‘Prints? DNA?’
‘The fire got too much of a grip.’
‘All right. What do we have from Westgate Street? Any witnesses?’
Halliwell spread his hands. ‘You know what the city centre is like on a Sunday night.’
‘They must have left traces of some sort.’
‘The crime scene guys haven’t found much. These people knew their business. Gloves, masks, head covers of some kind.’
‘What was the car?’ Diamond said, and for one uncomfortable moment he remembered he was supposed to be on the trail of a stolen blue Nissan Pathfinder.
‘Toyota Landcruiser,’ Halliwell said. ‘Taken the same evening from the Manvers Street car park.’
For a moment he breathed easy. It didn’t last. ‘Right next to the nick? God help us, am I going to have to break that to Georgina?’
‘She may heard from someone else, guv. The owner is Pippa Peel-Bailey.’
The name meant nothing. ‘Should I have heard of her?’
‘The daughter of Councillor Peel-Bailey, who is on the Police Authority.’
He took it all in and then said, ‘Oh goody. That saves me a phone call.’
The tension eased. There were smiles. He decided to leave it there, making clear only that Keith Halliwell remained in charge of the ram-raid investigation. But after the others had left the room, Halliwell lingered. It was obvious he had something else to get off his chest. He closed the door first.
‘Appreciate your support, guv,’ he said. ‘I screwed up big time.’
‘We all did,’ Diamond said. ‘I feel bad, too.’
‘Something I didn’t mention.’ Halliwell felt for his tie and loosened it. He let out a nervous breath.
‘Go on.’
‘I’m a countryman.’
The small hairs rose on the back of Diamond’s neck. The word ‘countryman’ has its own dread coinage in the police. Operation Countryman back in 1980 lifted the lid on police corruption in London. The supergrass whose evidence triggered the inquiry claimed that the entire Robbery Squad was bent: one third took money, one third favours and one third looked the other way.
Halliwell must have cottoned on to his boss’s reaction, because he added at once, ‘When I say I’m a countryman, I mean I was raised on a farm. I was a farmer’s boy.’
For one anxious second Diamond wondered if his deputy was about to cry on his shoulder.
‘Should have known,’ Halliwell said. ‘Just didn’t think.’
‘Didn’t think what? You’re not making sense, Keith.’
‘The words ram raid. I took it for what it is — ramming a shopfront.’
‘And…?’
‘A ram is also a male sheep.’
‘So?’
‘I only thought of it during the meeting when you made that remark about what they called themselves. Bit embarrassing, so I didn’t mention it in front of the others. Jacob and Romney are breeds of sheep.’
Ingeborg brought in a packet and put it on his desk.
‘What’s this, then?’
His name was on the label in large letters.
She shrugged. ‘Don’t know, guv.’
At least it wasn’t large enough to be another cake.
‘It’s already been opened. You must know what’s in there.’
‘That’s security. They checked it and sent me up with it.’
‘As long as no one’s sending me up.’ He unwrapped the loose end. ‘It doesn’t weigh much.’
It was a brand-new mobile phone. ‘Someone’s feeling generous,’ he said in a throwaway tone, knowing for certain who had sent it. ‘I guess I’ll have to find out how to use the thing.’
‘Can I see?’ Ingeborg fingered the controls. ‘It’s ready to go. Someone has charged it up already and put in an SIM card.’
‘Is that good?’
‘It makes life easier.’
‘You mean there’s no escape?’
‘Do you want a quick lesson?’
She went through it with him. His fingers were like bananas trying to use the keys.
‘It’s a fab little phone,’ Ingeborg said. ‘See, it’s got a vibrating function.’
His face was a study in mystification.
‘When you’re in a meeting and a call comes in, it doesn’t have to ring. You feel the movement in your pocket.’
‘And have a coronary.’
Ingeborg didn’t comment. She was scrolling up and down. ‘Hello, there’s a name already in your phone book.’
His priority remained the murder of Delia Williamson. Ram raids are regrettable, but a lost life can’t be recovered. Leaving Halliwell to deal with the aftermath of last night, he drove out to Bradford on Avon.
Amanda Williamson was at the door of the weaver’s cottage on the hill when Diamond appeared along Tory, as the little path was known. She had empty eyes and a tired stance. Anyone would after days of caring for two newly orphaned children. She told him she was about to go down into the town for some shopping. Her two granddaughters were inside in the care of her friend Meg, the young woman Diamond had met briefly on his last visit.
He offered to go with her and she must have known it wasn’t from the goodness of his heart, but she didn’t seem dismayed, especially when he said he was better than a pack-mule at carrying bags. ‘It looks a stiff climb,’ he said. ‘I bet you feel it, coming up.’
‘Don’t I just.’
He asked how the girls were adjusting and heard that they seemed to be internalising the grief. They weren’t saying much. It was no bad thing that they were living in a place new to them, and Amanda was glad she’d taken his advice and dodged the press.
She asked how he was doing and he surprised himself by confiding that he’d met someone and been on a date for the first time since his wife had died.
‘Good for you,’ she said, then added, ‘It was good, I take it?’
He gave a shy smile.
‘Good for her, too, then. Will you see her again?’
‘It’s kind of understood.’
‘Lovely. There’s too much grief in the world. I like to hear about anyone who makes another person happy. I’ve had my moments, too, and that’s what they’ve been — moments — but no worse for that.’ She giggled a little at some private memory. ‘And how are you doing professionally?’
She wanted to know how the investigation was going. Too late, it clicked with him that this was what she’d meant the first time.
‘Not enough progress in that department,’ he said. ‘More questions than answers.’
‘And you have some for me?’
‘Do you mind?’
‘Go on.’
‘I’d like to know more about your daughter and Danny. I didn’t ask you about their beliefs.’
Her gaze moved swiftly to him, checking his meaning, and then ahead to the spire of Holy Trinity. ‘Like religious beliefs?’
‘It’s one theory among many. People sometimes get too wrapped up in certain stuff that isn’t good for their sanity.’
‘The black arts?’
‘Or some such. Cults.’
She gave it thought as they picked their way down the steps known as the Rope Walk. ‘I think I would have known if Delia had got into anything like that,’ she said finally. ‘She was never morbid. Too excitable, if truth be told.’
‘And Danny?’
‘He was more guarded certainly, a bit strange, even, thinking of the bats, but I wouldn’t say it was unhealthy. The natural world was what he’d studied for years. He cared about living things. I remember an incident once. We were driving along one of those lanes near Holt and a small bird flew out of the hedge and hit the car. He stopped and got out and went back to make sure it wasn’t suffering, as he said. I think he put it out of its misery. I didn’t watch. How many of us would do that?’