“I can’t say for certain but I have my suspicions.”
“Well, they’re easy to coil up and take away, but a thief would find it difficult to sell them on, or fence them, or whatever the expression is. Have you checked the police computer to see if they are listed?”
“Not yet. I only found them this afternoon.”
She smoothed her fingers between the narrow seams for the pure pleasure of the touch. “Some people aren’t interested in making money. They’re the ones the tenth commandment was written for.”
“Was it?” Long time since he’d looked at the Ten Commandments.
“Thou shalt not covet.”
“I remember now: thy neighbour’s ox.”
“And a few other things, such as his house, wife, manservant, maidservant.”
“And you’re thinking a Fortuny dress might be coveted by someone?”
“By every woman who ever saw one.”
“But this is an old man, retired engineer, living alone.”
“Old men have their memories. Is he married?”
“Was, until his wife’s death last November, and she wasn’t interested in fashion.”
“A mistress, then?”
Caught unprepared, he gave it a moment’s thought first. “I could be mistaken but he doesn’t seem the sort. Railways are his secret passion. He has a toy train layout in the workshop.”
She laughed. “I’m with you, then. I doubt if he’s a ladies’ man. Can’t you question him about the dresses?”
“He’s in the RUH, on life support.”
Paloma nodded. “I’m starting to understand. Was he attacked?”
“I’d rather not go into that,” he said. “So can’t you give me any pointers as to how three Fortuny gowns ended up in Bath?”
She smiled. “I could insist on seeing the others before I give an opinion. In truth, I don’t know. If you like I can call Denise, my contact at the Fashion Museum, but I’d better warn you. She’s highly excitable. Just the mention of Fortuny will send her into ecstasy. She’ll demand all the details.”
“She can’t have them.” He’d been invaded by this image of a hyped-up Denise telling the whole of Bath about Pellegrini’s double life.
“Fine,” Paloma said. “You’re probably right.”
And yet… was he turning down the only chance of a breakthrough? The people at the Fashion Museum were more likely than anyone to know about collectors of rare and valuable items. “Is there any way you could get her opinion without actually saying we found these dresses?”
“Not easy. She’d be quick to pick up on anything like that.”
“But you…”
“You want me to try after all? All right.” She picked up the phone. “Would you like to speak to her yourself?”
“Christ, no.”
She smiled. “The look on your face.” Then, as the call was answered, she turned away from him and started speaking into the phone. He could hear only her end of the conversation. “Denise? How are you doing? It’s been far too long.” There followed some chat about a trip to Paris, a frustrating wait until she said, “I’m calling on behalf of a friend who’s trying to trace a person from this area with some extremely rare fashion items and I know you have contacts with people who loan things for special exhibitions. Can you think of anyone who specialises in Fortuny?… That’s what I said, but no, darling, nothing is being offered for sale. If it was, I’d tell you… Absolutely not. You’d be the first to know, I promise, cross my heart and hope to die…”
Diamond listened in awe of Paloma’s convincing rationale.
“I’m not explaining this very well… Yes, I did say Fortuny and there’s nothing, I repeat nothing, you should know… Actually my contact is a man.” She swivelled her chair and eyed Diamond.
He gave an encouraging smile.
She smiled back and seemed to take wicked delight in watching him as she said, “A rather sad guy who was adopted and is trying to trace his real parents and the only information he has is that one of them lives locally and owned some Fortuny gowns… That’s the thing. He has no idea, poor lamb. Definitely on the level, yes. A thought like that hasn’t crossed his mind, I’m certain. If you could only point him in the right direction, it will make his day, his year… You can? Well, that’s brilliant!”
Diamond leaned forward, eager not to miss a syllable. He’d already forgiven the bit about the sad guy.
“You’re better placed than anybody. You’ve got to be right. There can’t be any others in Bath. We both know you can’t get them for love nor money… Very rich? Well, they’d have to be… Cavendish Crescent? I know it… But how public-spirited. When people who possess beautiful things are willing to allow others to appreciate them it restores one’s faith in humanity.”
This was promising. Generous owners and just up the hill in Cavendish Crescent.
Then Paloma said into the phone. “Dear God, he’ll be heartbroken. How long ago was this?… A good age, yes, but so sad when it comes. What was her name?… Could you spell that?… Filiput. Got it. And what happened to the collection after her death?… The husband is dead, too? This is too much. I’ll have to break the news to my little guy… And the dresses? I suppose they were part of the estate… Never! What happened, then?… What do you mean ‘disposed of them’?… I’m speaking for myself now, Denise. My little guy’s interest was entirely in the couple, not their possessions. But you and I have a right to be concerned. The world needs to keep tabs on irreplaceable items like this.”
“Such lies,” she said to Diamond after switching off. “I’ll roast in hell for this. I think you heard most of it. Good news and bad. There were definitely Fortuny gowns in private hands in Bath. The owner was a woman of East European origin married to an Italian, and the gowns were handed down through three generations. She wasn’t really a collector but she treasured them for their sentimental value and she did once lend a gorgeous blue one to the museum for an exhibition about Fortuny and his influence on design.”
“Sounds like the one I saw coiled up.”
“Yes, she had two in the Delphos style and one Peplos, a variation with an attached tunic.”
“Did I hear you say her name?”
“Filiput. Olga Filiput. She and her husband had a large house in Cavendish Crescent.”
“A whole house to themselves.”
“Old money. She was over ninety when she died in 2013 and the old man lasted about six months longer. But-and this is the bad bit-during that time he seems to have disposed of a lot of her things, including the Fortuny gowns. When he died, they weren’t among the items listed as part of the estate.”
“Did they have family?”
“No heirs, apparently.”
“And didn’t Denise have any information about where the gowns ended up?”
“You don’t need to ask,” she said. “You know.”
“The engineer’s workshop. So she has no record of them being acquired by a local engineer?”
“None whatsoever-and Denise wouldn’t miss news of a transaction like that. She’s alert to everything. You should have heard her when I mentioned Fortuny. Peter, I’m suspicious.”
“Me, too.” He grasped Paloma’s hand and squeezed it. “You did brilliantly. I owe you a meal out for this.”
“Is that the best you can do? I was telling the most horrendous lies for you.”
“And a theatre trip.”
“Not good enough, big spender.”
“A weekend away. A hot-air balloon ride. What more can I offer?”
“I thought you’d never ask. I’ll settle for the dress.”
Driving home (with the dress), Diamond felt elated by the fresh discoveries, yet wary of where they were taking him. Valuable fashion items owned by one family for three generations end up with rich old lady. Death of old lady. Death of old lady’s husband. Items missing from the estate turn up hidden in cremation pots in engineer’s workshop. Engineer has a macabre interest in ways of killing. What could you read into that except a rising scale of suspicion? A deal? A dirty deal? Confidence trickery? Theft? Murder? Double murder?