‘Not many blokes have handbags,’ Leaman said.
She looked at him as if he was something she’d trodden in. ‘I don’t know what Mel thought I was going to ask, but I got the impression it wasn’t about Mari.’
‘Does he have form?’
‘No, I ran a check. He’s clean.’
‘So what did he say when you gave him a sight of the picture?’
Ingeborg’s eyes rolled upwards. ‘Said he never forgets a pretty face. Then he smirked a bit. He sees himself as God’s gift to women.’
‘You’ve changed your tune,’ Leaman said. ‘He was nice-looking and friendly when we last spoke.’
‘He’s still nice looking and friendly — and he still thinks he’s God’s gift.’
‘So not one of them appears to have met the victim,’ Diamond said.
‘Mel did admit Mari could easily have been in the audience at one of the concerts and he wouldn’t have known.’
Diamond aired the small piece of expertise he’d learned from Cat. ‘Because they have a light on the music stand and they can’t see anything over it?’
‘No. Because they concentrate on the music.’
He tore open three strips of sugar for his coffee. ‘Disappointing, then. No apparent link to our victim. It’s only our assumption that she came here to listen to her favourite string quartet.’
‘I can’t be entirely sure how much Anthony knows, or how little,’ Leaman said, and for once he wasn’t trying to score points. ‘I showed him the picture and he hardly gave it a glance. Wasn’t interested.’
‘Did you ask him the question?’
‘Had he met her? He said he was a musician — as if that said it all.’
‘In his case, it probably does,’ Diamond said. ‘He has some form of autism. People don’t interest him.’
Ingeborg took a sharp breath. ‘So it’s entirely possible Mari spoke to Anthony and he paid no attention.’
Halliwell was some way ahead of her. ‘And he killed her and dumped her in the river and blanked it from his mind.’
‘I find that impossible to believe,’ Ingeborg said. ‘Anyway, why would he do such a thing if he’s only interested in music?’
Halliwell turned up his palms to show it was mainly guesswork. ‘Mari became a nuisance, got in his way.’
‘How?’
‘She was a groupie, like we said.’
‘I get you now.’ She nodded. ‘He’s the poster-boy, the one most likely to have attracted women.’
‘Okay,’ Diamond said. ‘I’d better have a try with Anthony.’
‘You won’t get anywhere,’ Leaman said, blunt, if not actually insubordinate.
Diamond carried on as if no one had spoken. ‘I’m not sure if he really can’t recall things, or if he just doesn’t want to talk about it.’
‘Using the autism as a get-out?’ Halliwell said.
‘That’s got to be considered.’
‘I said you’re on a loser,’ Leaman said
‘I expect you’re right, John, but I’m having a go.’ He turned to Halliwell. ‘You said Ivan Bogdanov was an obstacle course. What did you mean by that?’
‘Treated me as if I was the KGB. Kept talking about his rights and what a waste of his precious time it was and how we ought to be hunting the real killer instead of persecuting innocent musicians.’
Leaman smirked. ‘You mean he didn’t melt under the Halliwell charm?’
‘You slay me.’
Diamond asked, ‘Did he respond at all when you showed Mari’s picture?’
‘Claimed he hadn’t seen her. I asked him if the fans ever became a problem and he took the line that people who appreciate good music keep their distance. If he’s hiding anything, he’s well defended.’
‘Ivan is a chess player. I got that from Cat. She respects him. In fact, she spoke well of all of them. Sees herself as the mother hen. She wants the quartet to succeed.’
‘They all want that,’ Ingeborg said. ‘They’ve got a name, a reputation, a cosy little number here in Bath. It’s in their interest to stay together now they’ve got a good viola player. They’ll cover up for each other, I’m sure of that.’
‘The question is,’ Diamond said, plucking at the lobe of his ear, ‘do they have anything to cover up?’
The practice went on for almost two hours before the quartet took a break. When the door of the rehearsal room opened, Diamond was waiting outside. The rest of the CID team had already left for the police station.
Cat emerged at speed and made a beeline for the ladies’ room. Her reaction to Diamond was to raise both hands. ‘Not now.’ Over her shoulder, she added, ‘Talk about groupies. You’re one of them.’
Diamond stepped into the rehearsal room.
Ivan looked up, but not to welcome the visitor. ‘You people have a damn nerve. What is it now? We’re in the middle of a practice.’
‘A few words with Anthony during your break won’t hold you up.’
‘Anthony’s already answered questions.’
‘Not from me.’
‘He’s within his rights to refuse.’
‘If you want to talk about rights, we can take up all of the break before I even start to question him.’
‘Intolerable.’ Ivan looked across the room to where Anthony was studying the score, apparently oblivious of what was being discussed. ‘This policeman wants more time with you. Can you spare him a couple of minutes?’
Diamond said, ‘He’ll spare me as long as it takes.’ He curled his finger at Anthony, turned and left the room, confident that he would follow.
And he did, entering the percussion room and seating himself on the stool behind the drum set.
Diamond looked the young man up and down and understood Ingeborg’s remark about the dark good looks. The high, narrow cheekbones and finely shaped mouth were likely to appeal to any woman, however stone-faced Anthony appeared. The unattainable has a strong sexual attraction. A confident woman would expect him to respond to the right signals.
A burly male detective had no such optimism. Getting any kind of response would be a challenge. But there was one thing that might work in Diamond’s favour. People with autism generally speak the truth if they say anything at all. They are honest to the point of rudeness.
Start on safe ground, he decided. Get the man talking about what he knows best. ‘How’s the practice going?’
‘Okay.’
Better than no answer at all. ‘Preparing for tomorrow’s concert, are you?’
This time Anthony settled for a nod.
‘Beethoven, wasn’t it?’ Diamond ventured.
Anthony was supposed to get the idea that Diamond was a fellow lover of music. He didn’t show a glimmer of appreciation.
‘I couldn’t place the piece,’ Diamond added, which was true. He was about as capable of placing a piece of Beethoven as he was of riding a Derby winner. ‘Do you mind telling me what it was?’
‘Opus 59, Number 3,’ Anthony said.
‘Silly me. I’m a duffer with numbers.’
‘In C major.’
‘C major.’ Diamond raised his thumb as if all had been made clear. ‘Any particular part?’
‘The fugue.’
‘And to me it sounded just as a fugue should.’
‘It was too fast.’
‘A shade quick, I’ll give you.’
Hearing this, Anthony with his care for the truth must have assumed he was in the company of a connoisseur. ‘You’re right about that. Beethoven’s tempo instruction is just about impossible.’ Now he wanted to discuss the playing of the fugue, which would be a minefield for Diamond.
‘I didn’t appreciate that,’ Diamond said, ‘about the tempo instruction.’
‘It’s a metronome mark.’
‘Does that make a difference?’
‘The metronome wasn’t invented when the piece was written.’
This was information any self-respecting detective could work on. ‘Beethoven added his note at some later date?’