Diamond felt as if he needed a cigarette, and he’d given up years ago. ‘I’d like to speak to my colleagues about this. I’ll get back to you later.’
‘Good thinking, Mr Diamond. It’s sound science to recheck every damned thing. We do, and we have in this case.’
His blood pressure rocketing, he slammed down the phone. He got up and circled the small office, taking deep breaths to get control of himself. Then he asked Septimus back into the office.
Was the Bristol man blushing under his black skin? He had an uneasy look, for sure.
‘You’ve had time to think while I’ve been on the phone,’ Diamond said. ‘How could this have happened?’
‘Not our fault.’ To the point, and no excuse offered. This was the way Septimus operated. If you wanted alibis, go to someone else.
‘Are you certain?’
‘We bagged up the blanket – sorry, horse rug – where we found it, in the gatehouse, sealed and labelled it and sent it off directly.’
‘If that was handled right, then what about the zip?’
‘Not for me to say. If you recall, the zip was already at the lab being cleaned before I came to Bath.’
Back of the net. Septimus was in the clear.
‘I can’t argue with that.’ Diamond hesitated, casting his thoughts back. ‘Keith Halliwell sent them the zip at my suggestion. He’s ultra-careful. He knows all about the chain of custody and the legal pitfalls if you do anything wrong.’
Septimus gave a shrug. ‘Keith was in London with you when the rug was found. It makes no sense.’
But it had to. Diamond leaned on his elbows and buried his face in his hands, locked in thought. After some while he looked up and said, ‘How long do horses live?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘I’m sure they get to twenty or thirty. It’s not impossible that the horse Nadia came into contact with is still alive. Say it was a three year old in 1993. It could be under twenty now.’
‘So Rupert happened to find the rug used for the same horse?’ Septimus said on a disbelieving note. ‘That’s stretching it.’
‘No, it could be one more link between the cases. You say “happened to”. There could be a logical reason.’
‘I’m not following you.’
‘Rupert the historian had an interest in the Civil War. That’s why he joined the Sealed Knot. Agreed?’
‘Okay.’
‘He was given a pike to carry, but he must have taken an interest in every aspect of the battle, including the cavalry. The horses have got to be battle-trained. What with cannon fire and smoke and all the rest, it’s no place for a nervous animal. I reckon they use the same horses again and again. You’d rather have an expe-ri enced mount than one that’s going to take fright. This was some old warhorse that featured in both re-enactments.’
‘Where does the rug come in?’
‘Left on Lansdown after everyone went home. Rupert found it and used it for bedding.’
‘It must have been left in the dry, then.’
A better idea struck him. ‘How about this? The horse is local and kept on Lansdown. I’ve seen them in fields there. On cold nights they’re covered with a horse rug.’
‘We’re not in winter yet.’
‘At that height it’s cold most nights. By day the rug is going to be stored somewhere. A shed. The place where they keep the fodder. Rupert breaks in and helps himself.’
Septimus digested this and said nothing.
‘Something for Ingeborg to check on tonight,’ Diamond said. ‘She can take an interest in the horses, find out if there’s a veteran among them and where it’s stabled.’
Now that the focus was shifting to someone else, Septimus asked, ‘Do you need me any more?’
A shake of the head. Diamond was planning the next move. Septimus stepped outside and left him to it.
Presently Diamond reached for the phone and called the lab again. He was put through to the supreme boffin and outlined his new theory. Even as he spoke, his confidence ebbed. He hoped it wasn’t showing in his voice.
‘The same horse?’ the scientist said. ‘Each of your victims came into contact with it?’
‘We’re working on the theory that both of them were involved with battle re-enactments on Lansdown.’
‘That’s the explanation and you’re satisfied?’
‘It will do for now. There was no negligence on our part.’
‘In that case we’ll report to you in the usual way. Mind, it would be helpful if you could find the horse.’
‘That’s the next step. And it would help me to know some more about the rug.’
‘It’s an under-rug. Do you know what that is?’
‘I can hazard a guess.’
‘And you’d be right. It’s made of soft material to protect the animal from friction from the heavyweight rug. They tend to get rub marks and bald shoulders, so they need this softer layer underneath. There’s a label. The manufacturer was a firm called Phil Drake.’
‘Cheapo?’
‘Quite the opposite. Top of the range. Unfortunately the firm over-expanded and went bust eleven years ago. This rug was an expensive product in its time.’
‘So if it’s at least eleven years old, it’s not in the best condition?’
‘The original burgundy colour has faded badly and the fabric is disintegrating.’
‘Wear and tear?’
He didn’t answer immediately. ‘Strange you should mention that. There isn’t much wear and tear as such. The deterioration is uniformly spread across the rug. It’s down to the ageing of the fabric more than use. Materials fade and break down in time, as you know.’
‘Not that much,’ Diamond said. ‘I’ve got a twelve-year-old suit I still wear.’
‘And keep in a wardrobe in a warm house, no doubt. Horse rugs tend to be kept in stables and outbuildings where they’re subject to cold and damp.’
‘One other question. We’ve talked about the clippings of horse hair. Did you find anything else?’
‘Why don’t you ask outright if we found any human hairs that match Rupert Hope’s? Actually, we did. We can say for certain that he came into contact with it.’
Finally, something to be pleased about. ‘That confirms one theory, then. We know where he went to have a roof over his head. Anything else I should be told?’
‘If there is, you’ll hear about it.’
Some caffeine-assisted decisions were called for. Diamond went down to the canteen. To top up his blood-sugar he invested in a chocolate chip muffin as well. His thoughts were more positive now.
The horse rug business was intriguing, and made Ingeborg’s assignment with the cavalry unit even more of a challenge. What a good thing he’d given way after first insisting she remained a foot soldier. He’d update her and get her ideas where the horse might be found.
By tonight Nadia’s picture would be on TV and in the Bath Chronicle. If anyone in the city remembered seeing her, the case could be transformed. Had she gone to watch the re-enactment that weekend in August, 1993? Or talked her way into some active role behind the scenes where the cavalry kept their horses?
Encouraging as all this was, the motive for Nadia’s murder still eluded him. He’d rejected the theory that she’d been killed on orders from the London vice ring, but that didn’t mean sex was discounted as a motive. Here was a young, attractive woman alone and looking for work in Bath, a city she didn’t know. She’d needed to meet people. Being experienced in attracting men for paid sex, she may have signalled something she hadn’t intended. It didn’t require much imagination to see one of the re-enactors, high on the experience of the mock battle and tanked up with beer, deciding she was available, discovering she wasn’t, losing control and killing her. An unplanned murder gruesomely covered up and hidden, there on the edge of the battlefield.
The other stock motives didn’t look likely in this case. Nadia had just arrived on the Bath scene, so jealousy, that slow, festering cancer, was out. She was homeless and without funds, so theft or any form of financial gain could be dismissed. She wasn’t being blackmailed or blocking someone’s ambition or giving unreasonable offence. Revenge was unlikely considering she didn’t know anyone here.