‘Not Mel,’ Ingeborg insisted, her face flushing.
‘He happened to be there with the London Symphony Orchestra,’ Diamond informed her. ‘I don’t think you heard him telling me in Sydney Gardens. You were keeping tabs on the stalker at the time.’
Now Ingeborg went white. ‘I didn’t know this. You didn’t tell me.’
‘Probably just coincidence,’ he said to pacify her. There was a bigger issue here than Ingeborg’s cosying up to Mel.
Dagmar asked, ‘Have you interrogated these people?’
‘ “Interrogated” is putting it too strongly. We’re talking to them. We have it confirmed by one of them that Mari Hitomi attended the first concert they gave. She wasn’t seen alive after that.’ He let that sink in before saying, ‘Now do you understand our interest in what happened in Vienna?’
She said tersely, ‘We are not aware of any link between this quartet and the death of Emi Kojima.’
Diamond lifted the netsuke high. ‘I’m thinking this could be it.’
23
If Diamond had thought of catching up on some paper work (unlikely) or making peace with Ingeborg (more likely) or going for a pie and chips (the best bet), none of it happened. As soon as Dagmar hoisted her backpack and left, there was a call from downstairs to say a gentleman had arrived and wanted to see him urgently.
A gentleman? That endangered species was not often sighted in Manvers Street nick.
Douglas Christmas was waiting in the front hall. The pinstripe suit, MCC tie and dolphin smile would without question have impressed any desk sergeant, as would the voice like a BBC newsreader from seventy years ago. ‘Remarkably decent of you to see me at short notice,’ Douglas told Diamond. ‘The car’s outside, being guarded by one of your obliging chaps.’
‘I wasn’t planning a drive.’
‘But you’ll change your mind if I treat you to a strawberry tart and a proper cup of tea, served in a pot. There’s a charming place up the street.’
Now that food was mentioned, Diamond’s stomach groaned. He hadn’t had a bite since breakfast.
Douglas knew he was onto a winner. ‘If you prefer, there are gateaux to die for. Don’t you agree with me that tea in the afternoon is the highest expression of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness? And I do have that small matter to raise with you.’
The red Aston Martin convertible was illegally parked in the street at the front of the police station. A uniformed constable was in the act of directing a bus around it. How Douglas had negotiated this was a mystery. Diamond made a mental note never to underestimate the man.
‘Hop in,’ Douglas said.
‘If the place you have in mind is Patisserie Valerie, it isn’t worth taking the car,’ Diamond said. ‘It’s a five-minute walk.’
‘I’m not much of a walker, old boy.’
‘There’s nowhere to park in the High Street.’
‘What do I do with the jalopy, then?’
‘I can tell you one thing. I’m not being party to a parking offence.’
‘Look the other way, then.’ Douglas solved the problem by slipping a banknote into the top pocket of the officer doing duty for him.
In the teashop, Diamond studied the menu. He was a newcomer here, but he’d heard Paloma sing its praises more than once. He asked the waitress if the breakfast was still available. She said in the nicest way that it was too late in the day, whereupon his go-getting companion switched on the heat of his charm. First Douglas asked the waitress her name. He then introduced himself and said he was a regular at the Soho branch in Old Compton Street, which had been opened by Madame Valerie herself as a replacement for her Frith Street shop bombed during the war. He said his guest, Mr. Diamond, was a food expert who had come specially to sample the quality of the service. Sadly — he continued without pause — the lovely Madame Valerie had long since baked her last croissant but he was confident she was with them in spirit, delighted that all these years later this splendid shop bearing her name existed in Bath and that a waitress called Jeannie was willing to speak to the chef about a special request from a VIP customer.
After all that, what else could Jeannie say except that she would see what could be done?
‘Food expert?’ Diamond said.
‘Everyone is, my dear fellow. You know what you like, don’t you?’
‘God knows who she thinks I am.’
‘The food critic of the Sunday Times, I expect,’ Douglas said. ‘You’ll get your breakfast.’
First he got the chef in person saying he would be delighted to cook a breakfast and would the gentleman care to sample his eggs benedict with salmon?
‘A simple fry-up, thanks,’ Diamond said.
It had been a telling demonstration of Douglas’s persuasive talent.
‘So what’s the small matter?’ Diamond asked him.
Douglas poured the tea. ‘I’ll be heading back to London shortly and I promised my clients I’d speak to you about all the interest you and your people have been showing in them. They’re artists, you see, sensitive plants, not men of the world like you and me. I can see a real danger that their music-making will suffer.’
‘They’ve been onto you, have they?’
‘I noticed it myself. The new man, Mel, is very jumpy. You put him under the cosh, this morning, I gather.’
‘That’s overstating it,’ Diamond said. ‘A few civil questions.’
‘But deeply alarming to a chap who lives a sheltered life.’
‘I needed to get at the facts about an incident his landlady reported to us. A man in a car was stalking him yesterday and actually knocked him over.’
‘I heard about this. Very bizarre.’
‘Did Mel use those words, about being put under the cosh?’
‘Not directly. Ivan acts as their spokesman.’
‘Ivan? I can hear him saying it.’
‘Yes, a wonderful artist and a difficult personality. Ivan is waspish in his better moods and positively rebarbative when he feels there is an issue to pursue. He lived in a police state for much of his youth, so anything that smacks of authority gets him going. He feels the quartet are being persecuted.’ Douglas then softened the statement with all the polish of a professional negotiator. ‘You and I know this isn’t true. You’re just doing your job. I did my best to explain. I can’t remember a time when Ivan was so agitated.’
‘Maybe something else is agitating him.’
‘Is there anything else?’
‘The stalker, I suggest,’ Diamond said. ‘Ivan was present at the Michael Tippett Centre when they first noticed the car and saw it drive away at speed. He’s heard from Mel what happened later. Something is going on there, and Ivan knows it.’
‘Did you see this stalker yourself?’
‘A bloke in a hoodie running away.’
‘Pity you didn’t catch him.’
‘He took a risk, jumping from a dangerous height. He was able to leg it through a canal tunnel and away.’
The breakfast arrived soon after.
‘That looks a treat,’ Douglas said. ‘I almost wish I hadn’t asked for the raspberry tart.’
‘What about the other two, Cat and Anthony?’ Diamond asked. ‘Are they agitated as well?’
‘To a degree. Anthony doesn’t say a lot, but he picks up the vibes when the others are in a flap.’
‘Does he ever get violent?’
Douglas hesitated. ‘He’s a single-minded chappie, is our Anthony. It’s not a good idea to cross him, but I don’t think it’s ever come to blows, if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘And Cat? How is she behaving?’
‘On the surface, no different. She makes light of everything in the interest of harmony. She’s a good balance for Ivan, a positive force. However, I do detect some real concern underneath all the levity. There’s a look in her eye I haven’t seen since Harry went missing.’