She turned to Mel. ‘He admires your playing. He says a great instrument needs to be played by a top musician. He arranged for you to come here because he wanted to hear the Amati played by an expert. Now he is certain you must have it.’
‘Have it?’
‘On permanent loan.’
Mel felt the hairs straighten on his skin. ‘That’s incredible.’
He knew millionaire patrons occasionally presented precious instruments to musicians. This was how rising artists came to play some of the finest fiddles in existence. He’d never imagined such an opportunity would come his way.
‘How does Mr. Hamada know about me?’
‘He knew you joined the Staccati Quartet. They are respected throughout the world. They wouldn’t play with an inferior artist. The instrument is insured, of course, and so well known to connoisseurs that it could not be stolen and sold on for anything like its true value, but he will expect you to take great care of it.’
‘I’m still coming to terms with this,’ Mel said. ‘He’s suggesting I take it away today?’
‘This was always his intention. Stringed instruments are not meant to be kept in glass cases. If they are not played regularly they can deteriorate.’
‘Believe me, this will be played every day if it’s in my care,’ Mel said.
A smile as thin as a stray horsehair briefly settled on Hamada’s lips.
‘Of course he reserves the right to reclaim it at any time,’ Olga said, and she was speaking without any obvious prompting from her employer. ‘But his view is that an instrument of such quality should be played, and by a leading player.’
‘What am I supposed to do — sign an agreement?’
She shook her head. ‘Mr. Hamada’s view is that even if you broke an agreement and failed to return the Amati, nothing you possess could compensate him. He is not interested in financial compensation. This must be a pact of honour. On your side, to value the instrument and play it to its capacity. On his side, to make it available to you free of charge, to treasure and maintain in good condition.’
‘That will be my privilege and pleasure.’
‘And one more thing must be observed,’ she said, still without obvious reference to Hamada. ‘The loan is confidential. He doesn’t like it known that he collects instruments or makes them available to top musicians. That’s why this meeting was arranged in secrecy.’
Mel immediately foresaw a problem. ‘Look, the other members of my quartet are sure to notice when I turn up with a new instrument and they’ll see at once that it’s very special.’
‘You can admit that you have it on loan. I dare say you would find if you asked that theirs are not their own. But you are not to tell anyone that Mr. Hamada is the owner. He would take that as a breach of faith.’
‘Understood. May I take it to rehearsals — or is it just to be used in the concert hall?’
‘I’ll ask him.’ After more consultation she said, ‘He says play on this viola and no other. Put in as many hours as you can. It can take several weeks to adjust to a new instrument.’
‘I know that from experience.’
‘And in addition the rehearsal process must require you to use the same instrument so that the other players can blend with your sound. Does that make sense musically?’
‘Perfect sense. I wanted to get the ground rules clear, so to speak. How will I stay in touch with you? Is there a contact number? Do you have a card, or something?’
‘Mr. Hamada will know where the quartet performs and practises. From time to time you may see him in the audience. Should it ever become necessary, we’ll contact you.’
‘Is there any time limit on this arrangement?’
‘None — for as long as you and he stay alive.’
‘We look to be about the same age.’
‘Stay fit, then.’ She added with a long, level look. ‘I believe he will.’
Mel faced Hamada again and gave a bow that would not have disgraced a Japanese ambassador. It was the best he could think of to demonstrate his thanks.
The same taxi was waiting in front of the hotel with the door open when Mel emerged carrying the two violas. In his state of unimaginable euphoria he climbed in. He continued to grip the handles, even when seated. He wouldn’t dare believe he possessed an Amati until he got the little darling home, took it from its case and played something.
The taxi started over the cobbles.
‘I haven’t told you where we’re going,’ he said to the driver.
‘It’s all right, mate. They know where you live.’
Just for a second it was if a cloud passed across the sun, but he didn’t let it trouble him.
15
‘The Staccati String Quartet.’
The team stared at their boss as if he’d forgotten to dress. Peter Diamond as a classical music buff was hard to swallow.
‘Come on. We already know the murdered woman, Mari Hitomi, was wild about music, and we’re not talking reggae and rap. This is the serious stuff that goes on in concert halls. Ever heard of the Nuns’ Chorus, DC Gilbert?’
‘Sorry, guv.’
‘This will be an education for some of you.’
John Leaman said, ‘The Nuns’ Chorus as a string quartet will be an education for us all.’
Diamond ignored the sarcasm. ‘One of Mari’s close friends called her a classical music groupie. I didn’t know such things existed, but apparently they do — young girls as devoted to nerdy guys in white tie and tails as most kids are to their pop idols. Mari had posters of this string quartet in her bedroom in Yokohama. And for the past two months the Staccati have been resident in Bath.’
‘Teaching and performing at the university,’ Ingeborg added.
‘I’m surprised you’re all looking so open-mouthed,’ Diamond said. ‘They’re world famous. This is the breakthrough, the reason the victim came here. Sergeant Smith will now give us her take on the quartet.’
Ingeborg unfurled a poster and pinned it to the board. ‘The Staccati have been performing all over the world for at least fifteen years and this could easily be one of the posters Mari had in her room. To be accurate, only three of these people are currently in the quartet. They changed their viola player recently. We’ll get a picture of the new guy soon.’
‘Are we treating professional musicians as murder suspects?’ John Leaman asked.
‘Because they can read music it doesn’t make them saints,’ Keith Halliwell said. The tension between these two never entirely went away.
‘Hold on,’ Diamond said. ‘All we can say for sure is that the string quartet looks like being the reason Mari came to Bath. She was a fan, so she must have known they were based here. Who killed her and why is another question.’
As if she hadn’t been interrupted, Ingeborg said, ‘I met the new viola player while I was doorstepping the colleges of music. He’s a Brit, thirtyish, friendly enough. We didn’t talk long, but he showed me where the quartet do their rehearsals out at the Michael Tippett Centre.’
‘Michael who?’ Halliwell said.
‘Only one of the greatest British composers of the twentieth century,’ Leaman said to the rest of the room.
‘He lived in Corsham and was a strong supporter of university music,’ Ingeborg said. ‘But I was telling you about the quartet. They teach a series of master classes and in return for a six-month residency give regular concerts.’
‘How regular?’ Diamond said.
‘Every two weeks.’
‘Not bad if you can get it,’ Gilbert said.
‘It’s not a cushy number,’ Ingeborg said. ‘There are hours and hours of rehearsing. They’ve got a reputation to keep up.’
‘Who are they?’