‘It’s a beginning,’ Diamond said. ‘Up to now all we have is a worthless sighting of the suspect on a motorbike.’
‘Why worthless?’
‘Because the witness is a dumb cluck who can’t tell one bike from another.’
He and PC Shilling left them to it.
The systematic search of the area had been under way almost two hours with no new finds when Diamond took a call on his mobile from Keith Halliwell.
‘How are you holding up, guv?’
‘Okay.’
‘And how is the pain in the — ’
‘Jack Gull? He’s gone to bed.’
‘I meant your pain in your leg.’
‘Not a problem. Hasn’t hampered me one bit. Where are you?’
‘The incident room. Remember you asked me to look for fingerprints for Willis, the guy living on the top floor in the Paragon house?’
‘From his car, yes. And you got a good set. Any news yet?’
‘He isn’t in the system. Seems he’s a law-abiding citizen.’
‘Pity.’
‘Also a call came in from Harry Tasker’s widow. She’d like to see you as soon as possible.’
‘See me?’ Yesterday’s meeting flashed up in his memory: the next-of-kin interview he’d rather forget. ‘Something wrong?’
‘She wouldn’t say. Wouldn’t leave a message. Wouldn’t want anyone else to go there. She had a female officer with her yesterday, but she soon sent her packing. I didn’t press her for information, in view of her sad loss. I promised you’d try and get there later today.’
‘I’d better. Did it sound urgent?’
‘Hard to tell. The voice is kind of flat. The shock has kicked in, I guess.’
‘It kicked in with a vengeance while I was with her. If she’s calmed down, that’s a help. Maybe it’s about getting the body released for the funeral. When’s the autopsy?’
‘This afternoon.’ A pause from Halliwell. ‘You’d like me to be there?’
Diamond disliked being predictable. ‘Who else is about?’
‘Nobody much. Half the station are up at Westwood on a door-to-door round in case anyone witnessed the suspect in the last few days. John Leaman is catching up on sleep. Ingeborg is in Radstock.’
‘Radstock?’
‘You may remember sending her there to get the dope on their murdered officer.’
‘So I did.’ It seemed a month ago.
‘Looks as if it’s me for the post mortem, then.’ Halliwell refrained from adding ‘as usual’.
‘You’re a tower of strength, Keith. If it weren’t for my dodgy leg …’
‘… which you said hasn’t hampered you one bit.’
‘Ouch.’
‘Okay, guv. I’ll head off to the mortuary. No one is better placed than you to handle Mrs. Tasker.’
Open to debate, Diamond thought.
More shoeprints were found matching the set discovered earlier. They were in a stand of larch at the eastern edge of Becky Addy Wood, where PC Shilling had first seen the suspect. The finds might not impress a court of law, but they were encouraging to Diamond. He was satisfied they had been made by the suspect. They could be compared with any shoeprints found at the murder scenes in Wells and Radstock. Photos and fresh casts were taken.
Towards midday John Leaman returned to duty and took over. ‘You deserve a siesta, guv,’ he said.
‘A black coffee will have to do,’ Diamond said. ‘I’ll go home and feed the cat and then visit Emma Tasker. She’s asking to see me. God knows why.’
The gasholder at the Windsor Bridge works loomed and he stopped the car as close as he could to Onega Terrace, opposite a row of houses called Park View. Grimly appropriate, he thought. In theory, there was a park across the street, but any view was masked by a solid mass of tall conifers, so the residents had to settle for parked cars.
A large woman, much larger than the widow, opened the door. Diamond explained who he was.
The woman looked him up and down with suspicion, probably taking him for a pressman, in spite of who he claimed to be. She was evidently a neighbour doing her best to shield Emma from unwanted callers.
He told her he’d been invited to call.
‘What did you say your name is?’
He heard Emma’s voice from deeper inside the house. ‘If he’s the big thug who was here yesterday, send him in.’
Not the best testimonial I’ve been given, he thought.
He was shown into the room where Emma Tasker sat in an armchair, wrapped in a blanket made of hand-knitted, coloured squares. ‘What caused that?’ she said, eyeing his crutch.
‘Fell over.’
‘Drunk?’
He shook his head. ‘Man drove at me on a motorbike.’
‘So it isn’t just a try for sympathy in case I lose my rag again and start throwing things at you?’
He chanced a quick smile and failed to get one in return.
‘What man? One of your own?’ Again, the remark sounded flip, the sort of bitter humour he was used to at work. But still her face showed not a flicker of amusement.
‘No, a suspect. He was hiding in the woods near Bradford on Avon.’
‘Did he get away?’
‘Up to now, yes.’
‘Is he Harry’s killer — Harry and the other two who were shot?’
‘It’s likely.’
‘Bastard. And you let him get away?’
‘Unfortunately, yes.’
‘He’ll shoot someone else now.’ She was unrelenting.
‘I hope not.’ The words sounded feeble as he spoke them and he tried for a stronger response and did no better. ‘We’ll not rest until he’s caught.’
‘He’s got nothing to lose,’ she said. ‘He’ll go on picking off good men while you lot fail to catch him.’
‘Believe me, ma’am, we’re doing everything in our power to stop him.’ Quickly, he changed tack. ‘And how are you coping?’
‘It’s no picnic.’
‘I’m sure.’
‘I haven’t had any sleep yet.’
‘Get your doctor to prescribe something.’
Her voice took on the hard edge of the previous day. ‘You’ve done this before, haven’t you? You’re the duty comforter, the guy they send to all the police widows. Couldn’t they rake up anyone better than you?’
‘If you’d prefer me to leave …’
She shook her head. ‘You’re all as bad as each other. I had to identify Harry this morning at the mortuary. They sent a car and two officers, male and female. They treated me as if I was ninety, calling me dear and trying to hold my arm. I didn’t take kindly to it and I told them.’
He had no difficulty picturing it.
She was able to talk openly about the experience. ‘The sight of him wasn’t as bad as I expected. His face was hardly damaged at all. Of course they were careful to cover the sides of his head where the bullet went through. He looked fairly normal.’
He gave a nod, rather than chancing any comment.
Her account moved on. ‘They told me they’re releasing the body later today. I don’t want one of those big police funerals with hundreds of bobbies who never knew him lining the street and all the top brass showing off their medals in the church. Harry’s send-off is going to be low key. Just a few family and friends.’
This time he had to respond. ‘Whatever you say. We’ll respect your wishes. Some of his close colleagues will want to be there, I’m sure, but it doesn’t have to be too formal. You won’t be able to keep the press away, unfortunately.’
‘I’ve got used to them already. It’s ghoulish, all this interest in photographing the widow.’
‘If you’d like some of our lads to keep them from troubling you, I can arrange it.’
‘No need.’
A pause in the outflow of words made him think this was the opportunity to leave. ‘I’ll pass on what you said about the funeral, just in case the high-ups were planning anything. Is that why asked me to come?’
‘No.’ She pointed across the room. ‘On the table there’s a small piece of paper, folded. Bring it over.’
The square dining table had various things on it: a heap of coins, some credit cards in a small leather case, keys on a ring and the paper, white, small and folded once. He handed it to her.