‘What happened?’
‘They cancelled the concert. I arrived in a murderous mood, after Harry’s blood, and I still feel bad about that, because the poor fellow stayed missing. No one has seen him or heard anything to this day. It was a massive setback. We muddled through for a time with substitute players, but it wasn’t the same. We’ve only recently got back to some kind of normality.’
Part of Diamond’s brain had been taking in what was said. He dragged his attention back to this side of the room and turned to Christmas. ‘Was he scared of you?’
This brought a frown and raised eyebrows. ‘Who?’
‘The violist who disappeared.’
‘Harry? Good Lord, no.’
‘You said you were in a murderous mood.’
‘A turn of phrase, no more.’ He laughed. ‘I may be known in the trade as Jaws, but I treat the quartet like my own kids. I’m still broken up about Harry.’
‘What could have happened?’
‘I wish I knew. He was a loner. I suppose they all are in their different ways, only he was always more secretive than the others and always strapped for cash, asking me for something ahead of payday. I discovered he was a compulsive gambler, off to the casino each time they arrived in a new city. He didn’t tell the others, as far as I know. He was always back in good time for each rehearsal and performance and always played divinely. You can’t do that if you’re high on something.’
‘So he got on all right with them?’
‘No problem I ever heard of. There are always tensions between talented people and we have strong characters in the Staccati, but Harry dealt with personal relationships in an adult way.’
‘Was he depressed?’
‘He didn’t appear so. We went through all this at the time with the Budapest police.’
‘I’m sure,’ Diamond said. ‘Have any of the quartet told you about their current problem?’
‘Problem?’ His face turned a shade paler. ‘What’s that?’
‘Here in Bath.’ Diamond pitched his voice lower. ‘I’ll be straight with you, Mr. Christmas. Ingeborg is a detective sergeant and I’m the head of CID. We’re investigating the suspicious death of a young Japanese woman who seems to have come to Bath because she was a keen fan of the quartet. She was found in the river some days ago.’
‘You don’t think my clients have anything to do with it?’
Christmas said in an appalled tone. ‘They’re not going to kill fans. They need them.’
‘There may be a connection with a case in Vienna four years ago. Another Japanese woman. She went missing at the same time the Staccati were performing there. She was found in the Danube canal.’
‘I know nothing of this.’
‘But you know they were in Vienna in 2008?’
‘True. They played several nights at the Konzerthaus. I was there for one of them and it was a perfectly normal gig. This is the first I’ve heard about a missing woman and it’s outrageous to suggest such a thing has any connection with the quartet.’
‘The body wasn’t found until after you’d all left. So you were in Vienna yourself?’
‘It’s one of my favourite cities.’
‘Mine, too,’ Diamond said as if he was a world traveller. ‘Was this visit prior to the Budapest engagement when your violist went missing?’
The manager’s face creased in alarm. ‘By God, it was. All part of our 2008 European tour. How extraordinary. It’s got to be a ghastly coincidence.’
Diamond didn’t need to comment on that. A voice from across the room announced, ‘The concert will begin shortly. Kindly proceed into the picture galley and take your seats.’
‘Are you going in?’ Christmas said.
Diamond nodded. ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
‘Better not delay.’ He was off.
Diamond’s gaze returned to the opposite side of the room, where Paloma and her partner were in conversation with some other people. ‘They’re in no hurry,’ he said to Ingeborg. ‘Why don’t they bloody move?’
‘Cool it, guv.’
The anteroom was emptying fast. His plan to hold back would misfire if he and Ingeborg were left there, conspicuous.
‘We’d better go in,’ Ingeborg said.
Still he hesitated.
And then Paloma turned her head and saw them. Her brown eyes held Diamond’s briefly and widened in shock. Of all the people she might have expected to see at a chamber music recital, he would not have been high on the list. Clearly embarrassed, she swung away, grasped her partner’s forearm and almost tugged him towards the door.
‘Did you see that?’ Diamond said to Ingeborg. ‘She was holding his arm. Do you think they’re an item?’
‘Guv, I’ve no idea.’
He was hurting. ‘The body language says everything, doesn’t it? They’re more than just friends.’
‘Don’t let it get to you. It may be quite innocent.’
‘What’s she doing here anyway?’
‘I expect she’s saying exactly the same about you. We’d better go in.’
They took the end seats in the last row but one. Paloma and her escort were closer to the front, in the middle of the second row. Capability Brown’s gallery was seventy-two feet by twenty-four and the seating had been arranged lengthwise, but in a shallow arc facing a white marble fireplace. Chairs and music stands for the performers were positioned in front.
Diamond’s police career had put him in some unlikely places. This, by his standards, was among the most alien. Classical art was not his thing any more than music was. The pictures were hung in the style of the early nineteenth century, when the objective was to use as much wall space as possible. Large gilt-framed paintings from the Methuen family’s collection were suspended one above the other in twos and threes. To his eye the pictures looked sombre and repellent. He had no confidence that the music would be any more congenial.
A ripple of applause started and grew in volume. The quartet made their entrance. Ivan Bogdanov led them in, violin and bow in hand, a squat, bald figure in a white jacket and white bow tie that was their uniform. Even Cat Kinsella had a jacket over a white top and wore dark trousers like the others. Her waist size was probably more than twice Ivan’s. But she walked well and had no difficulty carrying her cello. Anthony Metcalf was the tallest, handsome, expressionless, indifferent to the audience. Finally came Mel Farran and he was definitely interested in the sea of faces, taking nervous glances as he moved towards the music stands. A strip of white bandage covered the outer edge of his left hand.
‘Pick your killer,’ Diamond said to Ingeborg and the woman in front of them stopped clapping and turned to see who had spoken.
The musicians took their places and spent a moment adjusting the lights on their music stands.
‘What are they going to play?’
‘It’s on the sheet,’ Ingeborg said out of the side of her mouth.
‘What sheet?’
‘On the chair when we came in.’
‘Ah.’ He’d been too interested in Paloma to notice. He shifted his weight to the left, delved under his thigh and retrieved it.
Beethoven, Opus 59, No. 3 in C major.
The quartet must have tuned their instruments off stage. Ivan gave a nod, put bow to string and they were straight into it.
19
‘Is that it?’ Diamond asked. The clapping had finished and everyone was moving.
‘Only the interval,’ Ingeborg said.
‘God help us.’
‘Be thankful for small mercies.’
He stood up to get the feeling back into his legs. The seats weren’t the most comfortable. At the same time he looked across to where Paloma had been.