“He left two and a half million to the National Railway Museum,” Diamond said.
“Really? What an extravagant gesture.”
“It was his entire estate.”
“Admirable. Shows commitment to the railway cause.”
“Yes, for someone as keen as that, I’d have thought your society would be a natural home. I wonder why he stopped coming.”
“I can tell you, if we’re talking about the same man. His wife died.”
“That checks,” Diamond said.
“He had all kinds of family matters to attend to after that. Couldn’t find the time to attend meetings. He let us know. Max was a decent sort. I hope you’re not about to tell me he went over to Pellegrini’s lot.”
“It’s possible. I’ve reason to think they visited each other’s houses.”
“That’s too bad. I must say I had my suspicions he had more than a passing interest in the GWR.”
“Excuse me. GWR? You mentioned it before.” Diamond was hopeless with initials.
“God’s Wonderful Railway.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“The Great Western, in fact, but it had several affectionate names. The Great Way Round was another. It served the whole of the West Country and ran right through here until the whole kit and caboodle was nationalised by the socialists in 1948. Anyway, I know Max was interested, but I wasn’t sure how far it had gone.”
“And you weren’t involved?”
“I’m more catholic in my interests. Don’t confine myself to a single company. And I wasn’t going in with that lot. But then I don’t live in a grand house in Cavendish Crescent, or a villa in Henrietta Road, come to that.”
“You think only rich men joined their club?”
“Like-minded is a better way of putting it. Definitely isn’t open to all, like the BRS.”
“BRS?”
“Bath Railway Society. Keep up, officer.”
Diamond had got about as much as he was likely to get from Captain Jarrow. In railway parlance, he’d hit the buffers.
The physician who had signed Massimo Filiput’s death certificate was still in practice in St. James’s Square. She was a crucial witness who had to be visited in person.
Dr. Mukherjee, small in stature but substantial in personality, was in no way fazed by a senior policeman calling. “He died in his sleep,” she told Diamond. “I was called in about eight-thirty in the morning by his cleaner-” she consulted her notes on the computer-“a Mrs. Stratford. And I confirmed that life was extinct.”
“On the certificate you wrote cardiac failure and-” he stumbled over the words-“coronary atheroma.”
“Narrowing of the arteries. His cholesterol level was being monitored. He’d been prescribed statins for some years.”
“A routine death, then?”
“A not unusual death at that age.”
“No postmortem?”
“There was no call for one. He died from natural causes. He was aware of his condition and so was I.”
“The cleaner found him dead in bed?”
“That is correct. She has a key and let herself into the house. Normally he was downstairs when she arrived. On this occasion he was not and the house was silent, so she went upstairs to check. She called me at once.” She put her head round the computer. “Why are you interested? Is there a problem over Mr. Filiput’s death?”
“Not that I know of, doctor. I wanted to check the circumstances with you, that’s all. How long had he been your patient?”
She consulted her screen again. “Since 2009, when I started the practice.”
“You saw him on a regular basis?”
“I’m not one of a panel of doctors. Being in private practice, I can limit the number of patients I take on and I make sure I know them personally. I knew Mr. Filiput better than most. He insisted on telling me about his anxieties.”
“And was he mentally sound?”
“His brain was working well for a man of his age, if that’s what you mean. He suffered some depression after the death of his wife.”
“I can sympathise. Did you discuss his worries with him?”
“I did.”
“What did they amount to, if that’s not breaking a confidence?”
“He felt he was losing his grip, he told me. There were valuable objects in the house and some of them seemed to have gone missing.”
“Really?” Diamond sat forward. “Did he name anything?”
“This was the difficulty. There were numerous items belonging to his late wife, so many he felt he couldn’t keep track of them all. She had a collection of valuable jewellery and antiques.”
“Yet he knew certain things were gone?”
“He believed they were gone. It isn’t quite the same thing.”
“You suspect otherwise?”
“People adjusting to some big event in their lives such as the loss of a spouse are liable to feel they can’t cope. It’s part of the process of bereavement.”
“Did he suspect someone in particular of stealing them?”
“He didn’t put it as strongly as that. Stealing was never mentioned. He spoke of the matter as if he’d put them somewhere and forgotten where.”
“Yet you said his brain was sound. Was the short-term memory going?”
“Hardly at all. For a man of his age he was sharp enough. His concentration was the problem, I believe.”
“Absent-minded?”
“I wouldn’t put it like that. There were areas of his life that he put to the back of his mind. He believed his late wife’s possessions were secure in the house, so he didn’t pay much attention to them.”
“Did it occur to you that they might really have gone missing?”
“Taken by some dishonest person? It crossed my mind, certainly.”
“Did you discuss the possibility with him?”
She sighed. “It wasn’t easy. I didn’t want to add to his anxieties. I suggested putting them into storage, but he said if he locked them away and never saw them again it would be like a betrayal of his wife.”
“I can understand that,” Diamond said. “My own wife died a few years ago and I’ve kept some of her things simply because I know how much she valued them. Forgive me for pressing you on this, but it could be significant. Had anything gone missing that he was able to describe?”
“No. On reflection I suspect the stealing was all in his imagination.”
Big mistake, Diamond thought, but he didn’t want to speak of what he’d found in Pellegrini’s workshop. “Did he ever mention visitors?”
“He had a retired friend called Cyril who came to the house about once a week and played some board game with him. They used to work together at a college in Salisbury.”
Cyril? This was new to Diamond. “Did he tell you Cyril’s surname?”
“No. I only remember because Cyril is not a name I’ve come across.”
“So they were both former teachers?”
“He preferred the term lecturer.”
“What was Cyril’s subject?”
“I couldn’t tell you. I’m not even sure what my own patient taught. They used the same staff room but they may have specialised in different things.”
“This was a long-term friendship, was it? Did Cyril’s visits continue after Mrs. Filiput died?”
“I’m sure they did. He looked forward to them.”
“I expect they helped to ease the depression.”
“Certainly they would have, if only briefly.”
“And how about Mrs. Stratford, the cleaner?” Diamond said. “Obviously you met her on the day she found him dead. Did you know her already?”
“We’d met two or three times at the house. In case you’re wondering about her honesty, I formed a good opinion of her. She was cheerful and a good worker. The house always looked immaculate. She sometimes went to the shops and collected prescriptions I gave him. I doubt very much whether she took advantage of him.”
“I wonder if anyone else did. He was interested in railways.”
“How does that come into it?”
“I’m thinking of visitors to the house, people who shared the interest.”
Dr. Mukherjee nodded. “That’s possible. I did notice various pieces of railway equipment in one of the rooms downstairs, signals and station signs and so on. Surely those are the things any railway friends would have stolen if they were so inclined. I don’t think he was worried about them disappearing.”