“And what about the diamonds she was wearing?” I asked. I took a sip of my coffee but the little pockets of UHT milk the hotel supplied had done little to cool it down.
“The first time she came in I’d noticed the rings she had on, of course,” Daz said. “She showed them to me as examples of her work and, well, you couldn’t miss rocks like those, could you? So I asked about them. She told me Slick had a contact who could get stones and was I interested?”
“And it didn’t occur to you that there might be something ever so slightly underhand about all this?” Sean said, keeping his voice mild.
“Of course,” Daz said. “But I asked around in the trade – discreetly – and no flags came up that they were stolen, so I bought them. They were a mixed bag of cut stones – circular and pear-shaped brilliants, mostly. The biggest was about point-eight of a carat. I used it to replace a poor quality solitaire emerald in a ring I’d bought in cheap because it was damaged. I sold it on for less than it was really worth, but I still made a fat profit. The customer got a decent stone at a bargain price and everybody went home happy.”
“What happens when the customer goes for an insurance valuation at some later date,” Sean said, “and discovers just how much of a bargain he’s got?”
“What’s he going to do – come back and complain?” Daz jeered. “Human nature, mate. He just thinks he’s got a wonderful deal and he keeps his mouth shut. I’ve never had one back.”
Sean was silent for a moment, digesting that one, then he said, “And what was different about this time? This deal?”
Daz took another swig of coffee and spent a few moments turning the cup in his hands, to the point where I thought we’d lost him.
“The scale of it,” he said at last and his shoulders relaxed a little, as though he was relieved to finally get it out in the open. He looked up. “Slick kept coming back with more gemstones and I kept buying them until, a month ago, he told me about this contact he had in Dublin who had a job lot to get rid of. Only Slick didn’t have the cash to buy them up front. Shit, the kind of money he was talking about, neither did I. It’s not exactly the sort of thing you can go to the bank about, is it?”
“So you went to your friends,” Sean said quietly.
Daz rubbed a hand across his face, forgetting about the eyebrow, and winced. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I remortgaged my flat and scraped together as much as I could, and Slick managed to put some up, and then I got William and Paxo involved, and Jamie wanted in as well. They all put in an equal share.”
“Ten grand a hit,” I said. “They must really trust you.”
His eyes flicked to mine, then slid away, guilty. “Yeah, they did.”
“So how much have you put up, altogether?”
“Eighty grand,” Daz said.
I tried to keep my face as blank as Sean’s but I couldn’t prevent a small twitch. Eighty grand. People had killed for less. A lot less.
“For diamonds worth how much?” Sean asked.
“When I’m done with them – about a quarter of a mil,” Daz said, and there was a hint of a thrill in his voice. “Imagine it! All we had to do was meet with the contact in Dublin and carry the stones back to the UK. No taxes to pay, no import duties. I promised the boys I’d double their money and it would be a blast.”
“And then Slick died,” I said deliberately, watching the excitement fade, wanting to remind him this wasn’t all fun and games.
“We still don’t know it wasn’t an accident,” he said quickly.
“Not at the time, maybe, but what about afterwards? What about when that van chased me after Slick’s wake? When possibly the same van wiped out Sam Pickering? Did it not occur to you then to call the whole thing off?”
“Of course it did,” he muttered. “But it was too late then. Part of the money had been paid and none of us could afford to lose it – least of all me. Besides, Tess still had the contact in Dublin and she was up for it.”
“Hmm,” I said, thinking of her drunken candour. “She wanted you to get the diamonds but she wasn’t keen on actually coming with you, was she? It was her pal Gleet who was pushing for that.”
“Well, if she wanted the rewards she was going to have to take the risks as well,” Daz said. “As for Gleet – he lent Slick part of his stake money. That’s his angle. And he modified the bike for him.”
“Modified?”
“Yeah, he grafted in a false silencer can onto the exhaust to carry the stones.”
“Ah,” I said, “so that’s why Gleet nicked the wreckage of Slick’s bike back after the crash – he couldn’t afford to have the police taking it apart.”
“How did you—?” Daz began, then seemed to give up trying to figure it out. “Yeah,” he said then. “He did.”
“But you haven’t added on anything to your Aprilia,” I said. “How are you going to carry them?”
He grinned. “Well I’m not planning on swallowing them, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “No – waterproof bag dropped into the tank.”
“Hmm, they’ll never think of looking there,” Sean murmured and, louder: “So, when do you meet this contact? And where?”
Daz hesitated again, tried to cover it by finishing the last of his coffee and putting the mug down on the window ledge. “We’re going to do the deal on Sunday,” he said. “We’ll meet up with him sometime after the track day.”
“Track day?” I repeated.
“Yeah, it’s a free-for-all at Mondello Park circuit – the one just outside Dublin,” Daz said. He paused, taking in our blank faces, and grinned suddenly. “Did nobody tell you about that? Shit – I hope you both brought your driving licences then, or they won’t let you out on the track and you’ll be missing a treat. They only resurfaced it last winter.”
He got to his feet but only made it a couple of strides towards the door before Sean stopped him.
“One last thing, Daz,” he said. “Who’s been tailing us since we got here?”
Daz frowned. “We haven’t seen that Vauxhall since this morning,” he said. “I thought they’d given up.”
“What about the guy on the Suzuki?”
“What Suzuki?” His surprise seemed genuine enough.
“With Lucky Strike paintwork. It was on the ferry yesterday, came past us on the road up to the Giant’s Causeway this morning, and was in the car park at Bushmills.”
Daz’s face cleared and he shrugged. “No idea, mate. You worry too much,” he said. “Look, I’ll see the pair of you in the morning, yeah? Just do me a favour and don’t tell the others what I’ve told you.” He gave a rueful smile. “Old Paxo’s sulking enough with me as it is.”
It was only after he’d closed the door behind him that I stood and turned to Sean. “Why is he lying about knowing who’s on that Suzuki?”