Authors: Peter Lovesey
The two in plain clothes known to nobody came in for extra derision. Word had been passed round that they were police spies, seen photographing individuals in the crowd.
They needed some allies here. They’d identified themselves to the police, but hadn’t said anything about the investigation they were on. “We wouldn’t be standing with you if we were spies,” Diamond said to the local sergeant. “We’d be mingling with that lot, passing ourselves off as part of the demo.”
“I wouldn’t argue with them, even so,” the sergeant said. “They’re getting in a strop, some of them. It’s been a long afternoon with not much to show for all the shouting.”
“Will Wefers get permission to build here?”
“Likely he will,” the sergeant said. “It’s government policy to stick more houses everywhere, get their figures up, whatever the local needs may be.”
“Houses will sell here?”
“That’s for sure. It’s a nice place to live. But adding a big estate makes it a little less nice for those already here.”
“The march of progress.”
“Which anyone can slow up if they’re well organised. This lot will fight all the way to the courts, if necessary.”
“Expensive, once they employ lawyers,” Diamond said. “Personally, I’d think about a cheaper option.”
“Such as?”
“A dormouse.”
The sergeant’s long look at Diamond suggested he was being sent up. “Dormouse?”
“Protected species. You’re not allowed to build over the habitat of a dormouse.”
“I get you now. I doubt if there’s one to be found in this field.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
The sergeant smiled at last. He seemed to have latched on. “No chance. It wouldn’t wash with the planning people. They’re up to all the tricks. Anyway, a dormouse favours woodland and hedgerows.”
“I’m not a countryman,” Diamond said, “but I reckon other protected species make their homes in fields like this.”
Unexpectedly, the helicopter door opened and the pilot climbed out and approached them. “Just letting you know I’m taking off now. You’d better stand well clear. Thanks for the protection.”
Caught unprepared, Diamond couldn’t let this happen. “Taking off without your passenger?”
“Mr. Wefers just phoned me. Change of plans. He’s stopping overnight at the farmhouse.”
“Is he, indeed?” Diamond said with a knowing look at Halliwell. Bernie was living up to his reputation as a stud.
“He told me to move the chopper to a field nearer to where he is. It’s only a short hop and it’ll be safer there.”
This called for a rapid rethink. Bernie could be playing a clever game of avoidance, making his getaway from another location. “Did you tell him about us waiting to see him?”
“No, it was just a short call.”
“And where exactly is this farmhouse?” A new plan was forming.
“A short way north across the fields, he tells me. There are twin silos I should be able to spot from the air.”
“We’ll join you and help you find them,” Diamond said, a statement of intent, not a mere request.
Percy Sinclair plucked nervously at his hair. “I’m not sure about that. He’s expecting me on my own.”
“That’s all right. Tell him we’re police officers and we insisted.”
“He’ll go bananas.”
“You reckon?” Diamond turned back to the sergeant. “Tell the mob the party’s over for today.” He strode towards the helicopter, Halliwell at his side.
Percy Sinclair followed, shaking his head.
Inside, the pilot made one more appeal. “He won’t want to see you.”
“It’s a funny thing,” Diamond said, “but people never do.”
The twin engines spoke, the rotor blades stuttered into action and soon the whirring aircraft was fifty feet above, allowing a fine view of the last action of the demo, much shaking of banners and fists. A pull on the control stick, and they veered sharply away. The excitement of swift movement through the air took over. Speed above ground didn’t trouble Diamond in the way a car moving at more than fifty-five did.
The joyride was short.
Diamond nudged the pilot’s arm and shouted, “Twin silos!” The farmstead was in view, with that squeaky-clean look buildings have from above ground. The house and kitchen garden stood at the end of a lane. A yard beyond contained the silver silos, a large barn, machinery shed and cowshed.
Sinclair was a careful pilot. He circled the area, seeking the best place to touch down. Nobody was on the ground to help. Several speculative rotations took as much time as the rest of the flight. Finally the choice was made and they
landed at the edge of a green field that looked like some kind of pasture.
The engines were switched off. The rotor blades flicked round a few more times before anyone could speak with ease.
“Not much of a reception,” Diamond said to Sinclair. “They must have better things to do. Remind me of the lady’s name.”
“Tess Thompson.”
“Okay. Keith and I will see if we can rouse the inmates. You can keep your distance. I expect you have to put this thing to bed in some way.”
Close-up, the farm was more real than it had appeared from the air. The mud, smells and cowpats were all too obvious. Sidestepping where necessary, the two CID men crossed the yard to the square, two-storied house and knocked at the red-painted door.
A long interval passed before it was opened by Tess Thompson, barefoot and holding a glass of red wine. She was a little older than the earlier glimpses had suggested, closer to forty than a blonde in a black satin top with generous cleavage wishes to appear.
“Oh,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting more than one.”
“There are three of us. The pilot will be along shortly.” Diamond showed his ID. “We’re from Bath police, needing a few words with Mr. Bernie Wefers.”
“Someone mention my name?” a disembodied voice said, and the Hawaiian shirt and gold chains materialised in the dim interior.
“They’re policemen,” Tess Thompson said in a tone suggesting they might have been whirling Dervishes.
“What’s wrong?” Bernie asked, stepping forward. He was shoeless and carrying a wine glass. He put his free hand against the doorpost, making it obvious they weren’t welcome. His shoulders filled most of the space.
“Nothing is wrong,” Diamond said. “It’s a routine enquiry.”
“What about?”
“The shooting of your former wife’s husband.”
He didn’t move. He seemed to be absorbing the information slowly.
“Professor Gildersleeve,” Diamond added. “You must have heard.”
Bernie found his voice. “I wasn’t there. Can’t tell you a thing. How the hell did you find me?”
“May we come in?”
“It’s not my house.” Bernie turned and raised his eyebrows at Tess. “It may not be convenient.”
She froze, uncertain what to say.
“We can do it at Marlborough nick, if you prefer,” Diamond said. He’d played this game many times before.
Bernie swore, turned his back and beckoned at the same time. They followed him into a spacious living room that must have been in Tess Thompson’s family for generations. It looked out of the 1930s, a three-piece suite in chintz, dining table and chairs, standard lamp and Welsh dresser laden with crockery. Framed family photos adorned the walls.
Having thrust himself into the main armchair beside the stone fireplace, Bernie said, “This had better not take long.”
The owner of the farm hesitated in the doorway. “Do you want me here?”
“It’s your gaff, gorgeous,” he said. “No reason for you to leave.”
She crossed to the other armchair, leaving the sofa for Diamond and Halliwell.
Diamond came straight to the point. “Do you recall where you were on the day Professor Gildersleeve was shot?”
“Not in Bath, if that’s what you want to know,” Bernie said. “I was home in Maidenhead or London. Can’t remember which.” A problem only ever faced by a man with about five different places of residence.
“So how do you know you weren’t in Bath?”
“I read about it in the paper next day and thought bloody good thing I wasn’t about when that happened, or some of your lot would come knocking on my door.”
“Why? Why would you expect a visit from us?”
“Obvious, isn’t it? He was having it off with my slag of a
wife for the best part of two years before I got to know about it. I had good reason to plug him. But I didn’t, because I was a hundred miles away.”
“He was shot by one of three masked gunmen.”
“So?”
“Somebody may have hired them to carry out a contract killing.”
“Oh yeah?” Bernie folded his arms. “And you’re thinking I’d pay good money to rub out a waste of space like Gildersleeve? I’m a businessman. I spend my profits on good causes.”
Diamond’s eyebrows shot up. “Such as?”
“My yacht and my house in Spain. Anyway, I’m not a violent man.”
“That isn’t true, is it?” Diamond said.
Bernie didn’t answer.
“You have a criminal record.”
A moment of tension was broken when he laughed. “Pathetic. That’s ancient history. Kids growing up do daft things. They all do. Me, I was unlucky, got caught, paid my dues and reformed. I’m a success story, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Diamond chose not to mention the violence to Monica. There was no advantage in stoking up aggression before he’d explored another avenue. “Four weeks ago, you travelled to Bath and Bristol. What were you doing there?”
“You’re well-informed,” Bernie said, looking less confident. “Who told you that?”
“We have our sources. It wasn’t a secret trip, was it?”
“You must be joking.” He reached for the wine bottle and topped up his glass, trying to recover his poise. “I was checking previous work we undertook. We always follow up, however small the project, just to make sure our clients are well satisfied.”
“Dealing with complaints?”
He shook his head and glared. “Come off it, mate. We finish to a high standard.”
“What was the project in Bath?”
“Outside the town. You probably know it, if you come
from there. Two hundred houses off the A46, forty percent of them affordable.”
“What are the other sixty percent—millionaires’ row?”
“Don’t get sarcastic with me. You bloody know it’s government speak, affordable homes for first-time buyers.”
“And then you went on to Bristol.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“More business?”
“A satisfied client took me for a meal. We built a major extension for him six months ago—fitness suite and sound studio. All the latest gear. He was well satisfied, but I’ve handled jobs for him before and he knows it’s always top quality.” He looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. “This is getting us nowhere. Any more questions? Because I want to get on with my evening.”
“Here’s one,” Diamond said. “Did you ever meet Professor Gildersleeve?”
“Only once, at the divorce court. I wasn’t impressed.”
“You threatened him. You said you’d make him pay.”
Bernie leaned forward and stabbed the air with his finger. “Listen, I was the mug who did the paying. My ex came out of it ten million quid better off.”
“The words said to Gildersleeve weren’t about money. It came across as a physical threat.”
His voice became a growl. “How would you know what I said? Has Monica stitched me up?”
“The law works on hard evidence, not hearsay, Bernie. If it wasn’t said, it can’t harm you.”
“Loads of things are said in the heat of the moment. Doesn’t mean shit.”
“So you used the words—about making him pay—and did no more about it?”
He seemed to regard the question as too trivial to answer. “If that bitch decided I had Gildersleeve killed, she’ll do everything in her power to frame me. She hates my guts. I’m no angel, but this won’t stick. I wasn’t there and I didn’t put a contract on the guy.”
“Who do you think was responsible, then?”
He held out his hands like a salesman with nothing left in stock. “That’s your job, isn’t it, not mine. All I’m saying is don’t take what Monica says as gospel. She’s second to none at stringing blokes along. Happened to me, the day we first met in the London casino. She saw I had money and made a play for me. Terrific while it lasted. Heavy sex, nothing barred and a quick wedding. I see it now for what it was, but at the time I was blind to what was going on. She was everything I’d ever wanted in a woman. I’ll say it—I loved her.”
From Bernie, this was a startling admission, yet, oddly enough, it came across as sincere. “What went wrong?”
“Nothing for the first year or two. She treated me well and I pulled out all the stops to make sure she was happy. Holidays abroad, meals at the best restaurants, smart clothes, jewellery. I paid her credit cards every month without even looking at the stuff she’d bought. But then the rot set in. I was flat out running my business and left her alone too much. Sometimes I’d come home from a trip just needing to crash out when she wanted a tumble. I always said she had enough energy to build a pyramid all on her own. But the thing she wanted needed two of us. A man as busy as me was never going to keep her happy for long. And she was always on about culture and stuff. That’s how she came to join the Diphthongs.”
“The what?”
“Some sort of club for weirdos studying old-time writing. They gave themselves this stupid name as a kind of cleverdick joke. Do you know what a diphthong is?”
“I’ve some idea.”
“More than I have. Any road, this was more about thongs than diphthongs. They were all at it, as far as I can make out.” As if remembering a lady was present, he winked at his client Tess. “The things some people get up to.”
Bernie’s narrative had changed the mood. The stonewalling when they had first arrived and announced their business had given way to this free flow of reminiscence. He seemed
eager to tell the story of his marriage, perhaps to justify his later brutality.
“Where was this going on?” Diamond asked. “In Maidenhead?”
“Reading. It’s only a twenty minute drive from my place. Started out as some kind of course at the university on Wednesday evenings. She was forever complaining her brain needed stimulating. I stimulated everything else, no problem, but not the top storey. She’d been to college, got the degree and wasn’t doing nothing with it. I could see it was a problem for her. I didn’t mind her signing up for this course. In fact I encouraged her. It was supposed to be a couple of hours, but from early on she was coming home after midnight. A bunch of real keenos, the younger ones on the course, some of them full-time students, got used to going on to the pub with the lecturer and that’s how the classes grew into something else. I thought nothing of it. I enjoy a drink and a bit of company myself.”