Upon A Dark Night Page 3

  He said offhandedly, ‘Who’s going to ring me?’

  She returned to the crossword she was doing. ‘Well, if you don’t know…’

  He placed his hand on the cat’s back, but it refused to purr. ‘I take it as a positive sign. If there’s a quiet phase at work, as there is now, we must be winning the battle. Crime prevention.’

  Stephanie said without looking up, ‘I expect they’re all too busy watering the geraniums.’

  His eyes widened.

  ‘This is Bath,’ she went on, ‘the Floral City. Nobody can spare the time to commit murders.’

  He smiled. Steph’s quirky humour had its own way of keeping a sense of proportion in their lives.

  ‘Speaking of murder,’ he said, ‘he’s killed that camellia we put in last spring.’

  “Who has?’

  ‘Raffles.’

  The cat’s ears twitched.

  ‘He goes to it every time,’ Diamond insensitively said. ‘Treats it as his personal privy.’

  Stephanie was quick to defend the cat. ‘It isn’t his fault. We made a mistake buying a camellia. They don’t like a lime soil. They grow best in acid ground.’

  ‘It is now.’

  He liked to have the last word. And she knew it was no use telling him to relax. He’d never been one for putting his feet up and watching television. Or doing the crossword. ‘How about a walk, then?’ she suggested.

  ‘But it’s dark.’

  ‘So what? Afraid we’ll get mugged or something?’

  He laughed. ‘In the Floral City?’

  ‘But this isn’t exactly the centre of Bath.’ She took the opposite line, straight-faced. ‘This is Weston. Who knows what dangers lurk out there? It’s gone awfully quiet. The bell-ringers must have finished. They could be on the streets.’

  ‘You’re on,’ he said, shoving Raffles off his lap. ‘Live dangerously.’

  They met no one. They stopped to watch some bats swooping in and out of the light of a lamp-post and Diamond commented that it could easily be Transylvania.

  At least conversation came more readily at walking pace than from armchairs. He admitted that he was uneasy about his job.

  ‘In what way?’ Stephanie asked.

  ‘Like you were saying, we’re not exactly the crime capital of Europe. I’m supposed to be the murder man here. I make a big deal out of leading the Bath murder squad, and our record is damned good, but we’re being squeezed all the time.’

  ‘Under threat?’

  ‘Nobody has said anything…’

  ‘But you can feel the vibes.’ Stephanie squeezed his arm. ‘Oh, come on, Pete. If nobody has said anything, forget it.’

  ‘But you wanted to know what was on my mind.’

  ‘There’s more?’

  ‘The crime figures don’t look so good. No, that’s wrong. They’ re too good, really. Our clear-up rate is brilliant compared to Bristol, but it isn’t based on many cases. They’ve got a lot of drug-related crime, a bunch of unsolved killings. See it on a computer and it’s obvious. They need support. That’s the way they see it at Headquarters.’

  ‘You’ve helped Bristol out before. There was that bank manager at Keynsham.’

  ‘I don’t mind helping out. I don’t want to move over there, lock, stock and barrel.’

  ‘Nor do I, just when we’ve got the house straight. What about your boss – the Assistant Chief Constable? Will he fight your corner for you?’

  ‘He’s new.’

  ‘Same old story.’ Stephanie sighed. ‘We need some action, then, and fast. A shoot-out over the teacups in the Pump-Room.’

  ‘Fix it, will you?’ said Diamond.

  ‘Do my best,’ she said.

  They completed a slow circuit around Locksbrook Cemetery and returned to the semi-detached house they occupied in Weston.

  Diamond stopped unexpectedly at the front gate.

  ‘What’s up?’ Stephanie asked.

  He put a finger to his lips, opened the gate and crept low across the small lawn like an Apache. Stephanie watched in silence, grateful for the darkness. He was heading straight for the camellia, the barely surviving camellia.

  With a triumphant ‘Got you!’ he sank to his knees and thrust his hand towards the plant.

  There was a screech, followed by a yell of pain from Diamond. A dark feline shape bolted from under the camellia, raced across the lawn, leapt at the fence and scrambled over it. ‘He bit me! He bloody well bit me.’

  Gripping the fleshy edge of his right hand, high-stepping across the lawn, the Head of the Murder Squad looked as if he was performing a war dance now.

  Stephanie was calm. ‘Come inside, love. We’d better get some TCP on that.’

  Indoors, they examined the bite. The cat’s top teeth had punctured the flesh quite deeply. Stephanie found the antiseptic and dabbed some on. ‘I expect he felt vulnerable,’ she pointed out in the cat’s defence, ‘doing his business, with you creeping up and making a grab for him.’

  ‘My own bloody cat,’ said Diamond. ‘He’s had his last saucer of cream from me.’

  ‘What do you mean – “your own cat”? That wasn’t Raffles.’

  ‘Of course it was Raffles. Don’t take his side. He was caught in the bloody act.’

  ‘Red-handed?’ murmured Stephanie, adding quickly, ‘A fine detective you are, if you can’t tell the difference between your own cat and the moggy next door. That was Samson. I saw the white bit under his chin.’

  ‘That was never Samson.’

  ‘Why did he bolt straight over the fence into their garden?’

  ‘It was the shortest escape route, that’s why.’

  She chose not to pursue the matter. ‘How does it feel?’

  ‘I’ll survive, I suppose. Thanks for the nursing.’

  She made some tea. When they walked into the sitting room, Raffles was curled on Diamond’s armchair, asleep. It was obvious he had not stirred in the past hour.

  ‘Incidentally…’ Stephanie said.

  ‘Mm?’

  ‘When did you last have a jab for tetanus?’

  Four

  Ada Shaftsbury’s breathing was impaired by her bloated physique, particularly when she moved. With each step she emitted a breath or a sigh. Climbing the stairs sounded like competitive weight-lifting because the breaths became grunts and the sighs groans. The entire hostel must have heard her come in some time after eleven.

  She stood for a short while by the bedroom door, recovering. Finally she managed to say, ‘You’re not asleep, are you, petal?’

  ‘No.’ But ‘petal’ had hoped to be. She was exhausted.

  ‘I brought back a few nibbles from the pub, a pork pie, if you want, and some crisps.’

  ‘No thanks.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to keep me company?’

  ‘I thought you didn’t eat snacks.’

  ‘This is supper,’ said Ada.

  ‘Wasn’t supper what you went to the chippie for?’

  ‘That was dinner.’

  ‘Actually, Ada, I don’t like to eat as late as this.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘If you lost your memory, how do you know when you like to eat and when you don’t?’

  Rose couldn’t answer that. ‘What I mean is that I’m ready for sleep.’

  ‘You don’t mind if I have yours, then?’

  ‘Don’t mind at all. Goodnight.’

  There was an encouraging interval of near silence, disturbed only by the smack of lips.

  Then:

  ‘I say…?’

  ‘Mm?’

  ‘Did the photographer come – the photographer from the police?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Another interval.

  ‘You want to be careful, getting in their records. You don’t know what they do with the photos they take.’

  ‘Ada, I’m really pooped, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘I could tell you things about the police.’
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  ‘Tomorrow.’

  Ada wanted her say, regardless. ‘We all have rights, you know, under the Trade Descriptions Act.’

  ‘Data Protection.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think you mean the Data Protection Act.’

  ‘Your memory can’t be all that bad if you can think of something like Data whatsit at this time of night. Are you getting it back?’

  ‘No.’ Some hope, she thought, when I can’t even get my sleep in.

  Ada would not be silenced. ‘I think it’s diabolical, the way they pissed you about. That hospital was only too pleased to see the back of you and the social so-called services shove you in here and all the police do is take some photos. It’s a bloody disgrace.’

  Rose sighed and turned on her back, drawing the hair from across her eyes. She was fully awake now. ‘What else could they have done?’

  ‘Never mind them. I know what I’d do. I’d go back to that hospital where you were dumped and ask some questions. That’s what I’d do. I’d insist on it.’

  ‘What is there to find out?’

  ‘I haven’t the faintest, my petal, but it’s all you’ve got to work on. Did they show you the place where you were found?’

  ‘The car park? No.’

  ‘Who was it who found you, then?’

  ‘A woman. The wife of a patient. They didn’t tell me her name.’

  ‘You’ve got a right to know who she is. You’re entitled to speak to her.’

  ‘What can she tell me? She didn’t cause my injuries. She just happened to find me.’

  ‘How do you know that? I might as well say it: you’re too trusting,’ said Ada. ‘They pat you on the head and tell you to go away and that’s what you do. The well behaved little woman, God help us, up shit creek without a paddle. Do they care? All they’re concerned about is the reputation of their sodding hospital. They don’t want it known that someone was knocked down in their car park. You could sue.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that.’

  ‘So they say.’ Ada was practically beating a drum by now. ‘Listen, petal, this may get up your nose, but you’ ve got some rights here. If you want to exercise them, I’m willing to throw my weight in on your side, and that’s a pretty large offer. I’ll come with you to the hospital and sort those people out.’

  ‘That’s very kind, but I really don’t think-’

  ‘We’ll talk about this in the morning, right?’ said Ada, following it with a large yawn. ‘I can’t stay awake all night listening to you rabbiting on. I should have been in bed twenty minutes ago.’

  Stephanie had fixed this. She had promised it would be done quickly and without fuss by one of her vast network of friends, a nurse who worked in Accident and Emergency at the Royal United Hospital. It was no use Peter Diamond protesting that he was neither an accident nor an emergency.

  When he met the friend, he had grave doubts whether he wanted her hand on the syringe. She was mountainous.

  ‘How is my old chum Steph?’ she asked.

  ‘Blooming,’ he said. ‘Shouldn’t you be asking about me?’

  ‘You look well enough.’ She examined the cat-bite. ‘Was it your own little kitty who did this to you?’

  He said in an offended tone, as if the possibility had never crossed his mind, ‘Raffles wouldn’t hurt me. Steph reckons it was next door’s, but I have my doubts. This was a big brute. You can see that from the size of the bite.’

  ‘Probably on the run from a safari park,’ said the nurse with a look she probably gave men who made a fuss. ‘Slip off your jacket and roll up your sleeve.’

  ‘You think an injection is necessary?’

  ‘Isn’t that the point?’ She gave a rich, unsympathetic laugh. ‘Your tetanus jab is long overdue, according to your file. I phoned your GP.’

  ‘Is that what he said?’

  ‘First, I must take your blood pressure. That must have altered since – when was it? – 1986. You seem to be rather good at bucking the system, Mr Diamond.’

  ‘Or saving the system from bankruptcy,’ he was perky enough to respond. ‘You need healthy people like me.’

  ‘We’ll see how healthy,’ she said, tying the cuff around his arm and inflating it vigorously. ‘Who took it last time?’

  ‘My doctor, I think.’

  ‘A man?’

  ‘Yes. Is that important?’

  ‘We can expect it to go up a few points. It’s always that bit higher when someone of the opposite sex takes the reading.’

  He stopped himself from saying anything. He was in no position to disillusion her.

  Presently she told him, ‘Too high, even allowing for the attraction factor. You’d best have a chat with one of the doctors. I’ll slot you in. No problem.’

  He was going to have to assert himself. ‘I didn’t come about my blood pressure. I came for a jab.’

  She picked up the syringe. ‘Which I’m about to give you.’

  ‘I’m beginning to wonder if there’s been some collusion between you and Steph.’

  ‘I don’t see how,’ said the nurse. ‘You don’t think she arranged for the cat to bite you?’

  She dabbed on some antiseptic and then plunged the needle in.

  ‘Jesus.’

  A woman in a white coat appeared in the room while he still had his finger pressed to the piece of cotton wool the nurse had placed over the injection mark.

  ‘Superintendent Diamond?’

  He didn’t respond. Who wanted to socialise at a time like this?

  ‘I’m Christine Snell. I don’t think we’ve met.’

  The nurse put a Band-Aid over the injection and said, ‘I’ll leave you with the patient, Doctor.’

  He said to Christine Snell, ‘You’re a doctor?’

  ‘That’s why I’m here. How’s Steph, by the way?’

  Another friend. His thoughts took a lurch towards paranoia. Steph’s friends, between them, had him over a barrel.

  She said, ‘Your blood pressure is slightly on the high side. We shouldn’t neglect it. Do you smoke?’

  ‘No. And the answer to the next question is yes, the occasional one.’

  ‘So how do you cope with stress?’

  ‘What stress?’

  ‘Overwork.’

  ‘Underwork, in my case.’

  ‘Potentially even more stressful. It kills a lot of people. Have you got any hobbies?’

  ‘Like collecting beermats?’ said Diamond. ‘You’re trying to catch me out, Doctor. No, I don’t do anything you would call a hobby.’

  ‘Maybe you should.’

  ‘I’ll think it over,’ he conceded. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if the nurse just now got an exaggerated reading.’

  Her eyes widened and the start of a smile appeared.

  ‘Not that,’ said Diamond. ‘I was annoyed. Doesn’t that increase it? I can’t help feeling I was fitted up for this. I came here because of the cat-bite, but last night, before I was bitten, Steph was on about my blood pressure.’

  The smile surfaced fully. ‘Do you know what Kai Lung said?’

  ‘I’ve never heard of Kai Lung.’

  ‘I think I have it right,’ said Dr Snell.’ ‘It is proverbial that from a hungry tiger and an affectionate woman there is no escape.” Seems rather apt, in your case.’

  While Rose and Ada were waiting to speak to Dr Whitfield, a refreshment trolley came by and Ada’s hand, quick as a lizard, whipped two doughnuts off it and into her bag, unseen by the woman in charge. ‘Elevenses,’ she said in justification.

  ‘Does that count as a meal?’

  ‘It’s over two hours since breakfast.’

  The breakfast the foreign girl Hildegarde had cooked to Ada’s order had been enough to fortify Rose for hours yet. She could still taste the delicious bacon.

  Bizarrely, the appointments secretary was announcing something about eggs.

  ‘That’s you,’ said Ada.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Rose X.’

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nbsp; ‘Dr Whitfield will see you now,’ said the secretary. ‘Room Nine, at the top of the stairs.’

  ‘Stairs. I knew it,’ Ada complained.

  ‘You don’t have to come with me.’

  ‘I do. Someone’s got to fight your corner.’

  The door of Room 9 stood open. Dr Whitfield got up from behind his desk to greet them. He was shorter than he looked from the level of a hospital bed. ‘Have you got it back yet?’

  Rose shook her head.

  ‘Not even a glimmer?’

  ‘Nothing at all. This is my friend Ada Shaftsbury.’ Ada’s hand must have been sticky from the doughnut, because after shaking it Dr Whitfield took a tissue from the packet on his desk. ‘So how can I help you?’ he asked after they were seated.

  ‘We’d like to speak to the lady who found me.’

  Dr Whitfield was slow in responding. He made a performance of wiping his hand and letting the tissue drop into a bin. ‘I doubt if that would help.’

  ‘I want to know exactly where I was found.’

  ‘I told you. In the car park.’

  ‘Yes, but I’d like the lady to show me where.’

  ‘Not possible, I’m afraid. She doesn’t work here. As I think I explained, she’s the wife of a patient.’

  Buoyed up by Ada’s substantial presence, Rose said, ‘It’s a free country. I can ask her, can’t I?’

  ‘I really can’t see the point in troubling her,’ Dr Whitfield said.

  This was too much for Ada. She waded in. ‘Troubling her? What about my friend here? What about the trouble she’s in? Hey, doc, let’s get our priorities straight before we go any further. This is your patient asking for help. She wants a face to face with this woman, whoever she is. She’s entitled to know exactly where she was found and what was going on at the time.’

  ‘I don’t think there’s any mystery about that,’ Dr Whitfield started to say.

  ‘Fine,’ said Ada, ‘so what’s the woman’s name and address?’

  ‘Look, the lady in question acted very responsibly. She came straight in and got help. It was as simple as that.’

  ‘So what are you telling us?’

  ‘I’m saying I don’t want her put through the third degree. She’s an elderly lady.’