Diamond just folded his arms and watched.
At the end of the eighteenth century when the canal had been dug through Sydney Gardens the main demand of the committee was that it should be invisible to the promenaders, so it was sited at a depth of twelve feet. From where Diamond and Mel stood, its sinuous route was obvious, but you had to be really close.
‘Does she know it’s there?’ Mel asked.
‘Ingeborg? She was on the bridge with us.’
Gasping and flailing like a marathon runner in sight of the finish, the hoodie was no more than thirty yards ahead of Ingeborg. He covered the last uneven stretch and reached the stone parapet that was there for safety purposes. Now he would see the sheer drop.
Instead of giving up, or turning to fight, he didn’t hesitate. He bent low, gripped the top of the wall, heaved himself over, swung his body down and held on with his fingertips. For a moment he hung there. Then he dropped the remaining six feet or so to the towpath. He could have broken both ankles, but he didn’t. He bent his knees as he hit the ground, staggered a few steps and straightened up. Then he was up and running again, jogging along the towpath towards the north end.
Diamond put his hands to his mouth and yelled to Ingeborg. ‘Don’t try it. Let him go.’
She would have followed, but had the sense to obey instructions. Hands on the wall, she leaned over to see where her quarry had gone.
He was about to disappear into the long tunnel beneath Beckford Road.
‘It’s not worth it,’ Diamond called out. He’d walked that tunnel more than once with Paloma and he knew it wasn’t far short of a hundred yards.
He grabbed the mobile from his pocket and called Bath Central. He couldn’t really expect a patrol team to be close enough to arrest the stalker as he emerged at the other end, but it had to be tried. And even as Diamond was doing his limited best to describe the suspect, part of his brain was asking what crime the guy had committed. Threatening behaviour? Resisting arrest?
Not too convincing.
‘Who was he?’ Mel asked when Diamond finished the call.
‘If you don’t know, I’m sure I don’t. It’s you he was following.’
‘How do you know?’
‘It can’t be us. We only came into the gardens because Tippi told us you were here.’
‘D’you think he’s the Megane driver?’
‘I can’t think of anyone else.’
Ingeborg crossed the bridge and joined them, in a foul mood. ‘He was slowing up, for God’s sake. I could have caught him.’
‘You did okay,’ Diamond told her.
‘I’m not feeble.’
‘Whatever gave you that idea?’
‘Yes, but—’
He knew better than to get into an argument about her physical ability. ‘It’s taken care of. I told control, asked for assistance.’
And she had the good sense not to persist. ‘What can we do him for?’
‘I want to know what he’s up to, that’s all.’
‘Me, too,’ Mel added. He appeared genuinely mystified by all the attention he had been getting.
They made their way back through the gardens to Forester Road, where Ingeborg’s car was parked. Diamond questioned Mel closely about the company he kept and whether he’d made any enemies recently.
‘I don’t have time to go out,’ he said. ‘It’s all rehearsals and tutoring.’
‘Who do you tutor?’
‘Music students. It’s part of our deal.’
‘Female?’
‘Some are.’
‘Could anyone be jealous?’
‘I can’t think why.’
‘Come on, Mel,’ Diamond said. ‘Even I know students get crushes on lecturers. It wouldn’t be unheard of for a man of the world like you to get his leg over.’
Mel shook his head. ‘No chance.’
‘Oh, yeah?’
‘Look, if I want sex it’s on tap at my lodgings.’
There was a pause for thought.
‘It crossed my mind, I have to say,’ Diamond said, ‘but her mother seems to think she’s Snow White.’
‘Have you met her mother?’
‘No, I got that second-hand, but I’ve met Tippi.’
A nod from Mel was enough. No elaboration was needed.
‘Just a thought here,’ Diamond added. ‘Does Tippi have a boyfriend who might suspect you have home advantage, so to speak?’
‘She’s never mentioned one.’
‘She wouldn’t, would she?’
‘A jealous lover?’ Mel said, as if surprised by the idea.
‘It’s you he’s following now, not Tippi.’
Mel scraped the hair back from his forehead. ‘I hadn’t really thought about that.’
‘Better be on your guard. Up to now he seems content to watch you, but that could change.’
They were approaching the house and Diamond hadn’t finished with Mel. ‘What time are you leaving for the rehearsal?’
He looked at his watch. ‘In just under an hour.’
‘Because I’d love to see this valuable instrument of yours.’
‘All right.’
Mel had his own key. There was no need to bring Tippi to the door again. She wasn’t about when they went in. Probably getting dressed, Diamond decided. But he was mistaken. After they’d gone upstairs and Mel opened the door of his room, they found Tippi sitting on the bed with her feet up.
‘Wrong room,’ Mel said.
‘You don’t mind?’ she said coolly. ‘I was checking my nails.
The light’s so much better in here.’
‘I’ve got visitors,’ Mel told her.
‘See you later.’ In the act of wriggling off the bed to leave the room, she treated them to a view that was more page three than Snow White. Diamond thought she winked at him as well.
Mel wasn’t embarrassed. He’d explained the situation already. He reached under the bed and withdrew the instrument case.
‘I still can hardly believe this,’ he said as he unzipped it and opened up. ‘Four hundred years old, near enough.’
The Amati was a beautiful object regardless of its antiquity, the glazed wood almost orange in colour, the finger board and pegs darker.
Mel lifted it one-handed from the case. ‘Isn’t the graining superb? Would you like to hold it? Mozart himself could have played this. He was a viola player, you know.’
Diamond, congenitally clumsy and fearful of doing damage, put both arms underneath and cradled the precious thing Mozart may have handled.
‘Compare it with my own, and see the difference.’ Mel fished under the bed and came out with another case and opened it. This second viola was in a darker wood, but to an inexpert eye looked similar. ‘Mine is a William Hill, and pretty well regarded.’
Diamond occasionally placed a bet with William Hill, but doubted if there could be any connection.
‘It can’t live with this, can it?’ Mel said.
‘Well it has to, under the bed. Is that the best place?’
‘As good as any if it isn’t locked in a bank vault, and that’s not what the owner wants.’
Diamond handed the Amati back to Mel with the same sense of relief as the vicar at a christening. ‘What about the bow? Is that special?’
‘Oh, yes. It came with the instrument. The very best bows sell for about a hundred grand. I can’t tell you the maker of this one. I was so staggered to be presented with the viola that I forgot to ask. To be honest I’m not using it. Tough enough getting used to a new viola, so I still play with my old Tourte. If it’s comfortable and gives the sound you want, why switch?’
‘And the case?’
‘That isn’t special.’
‘I’ll take a look, if you don’t mind.’
Diamond picked the case up and turned it over. He was checking for clues to the true owner’s identity. He found none. Maybe ultra violet would have picked up some security marking you couldn’t see with the naked eye.