Useful information. Suspicious as always, he’d been toying with the possibility that some other person could have added caustic soda to the make-up before the show. This seemed to scotch the theory. ‘Did you see her after the incident on stage?’
‘No, she went to the hospital with Clarion. I was way too busy helping Gisella. There was a swift decision to get her on as understudy, and my job was to get her into one of the Sally Bowles costumes.’
‘And make her up?’
Kate shook her head. ‘She was playing Natalia, so she was done already.’
‘She performed well, I gather?’
‘She was marvellous, considering. We had an ASM understudying her part – two small scenes – and she had to step up as well. Fortunately for me they’re similar in build. All it needed was some pinning here and there.’
‘What troubles me about all this,’ Diamond said, ‘is the phrase you used just now. You said when Denise left this room to go and see Clarion, she was “calm as a lake in heaven”.’
‘It’s Gilbert and Sullivan,’ she said. ‘I forget which one. Just a phrase that came to mind. Put it this way. She was her normal, placid self, well in control. What’s wrong with that?’
‘I’ll tell you. She was on her way to smear caustic soda on Clarion’s face and cause acute pain and third-degree burns, so how could she be so calm?’
‘You’ll have to work that out for yourself.’
One thing he had worked out. The wardrobe mistress and the dresser had not been on the best of terms.
9
Diamond had a strong dislike of being fobbed off. After seeing Kate in wardrobe, he asked to meet Francis Melmot and was told that the chairman was unavailable for the rest of the day. ‘What does that mean?’ he asked Shearman. ‘I assume he has a prior engagement.’ ‘Priority over the police? I don’t think so. What do you know about his plans, anyway?’ ‘I’m just passing on the information. He’s out of reach.’ ‘Climbing the Matterhorn, is he?’ ‘What?’ ‘Channel swimming? Bungee jumping? How is he out of reach?’ ‘All I can tell you is what he said to my secretary before he left the building.’ ‘So he was here today?’ ‘And yesterday. And the day before. The chairman is taking a keen interest in what’s happened.’ ‘So keen that he clears off as soon as the police arrive.
Does he work for a living?’ ‘He has a number of directorships, I know for certain.’ ‘You’d better give me his phone number.’ On trying the number, he got a recorded message telling him what he’d already heard: that Mr Melmot was unavail
able. He had the same result from the mobile. ‘Where does he live?’ he asked Shearman. ‘I don’t think that’s wise.’ ‘I didn’t ask if it was wise.’
Shortly after, with arms folded and jaw jutting in Churchillian defiance, Diamond was driven by Keith Halliwell through the leafy lanes of Somerset towards Wellow, about five miles south of the city. They were looking for Melmot Hall, where Melmots had lived since the Restoration.
For Diamond, getting out of that theatre was like being released from some hypnotist’s instruction. Only now did he fully understand the paralysing effect the place had on him. This couldn’t go on. If he didn’t deal with it, he’d be forced to drop the case.
‘Funnily enough,’ Halliwell said, trying to lighten the mood, ‘I’ve never been to Wellow.’
‘You wouldn’t have much cause,’ Diamond said. ‘It’s not the crime capital of the south-west.’
The sat-nav directed them through the quiet village and across the Wellow Brook towards the unexpected, a line of parked cars stretching to infinity, making two-way traffic an impossibility.
‘What’s going on?’ Halliwell said, slowing up.
‘We are,’ Diamond said, still in warlike mode. ‘We’re going on. If anything comes the other way, they’ll have to reverse.’
Knowing you didn’t argue with the boss when he was like this, Halliwell moved the car on fifty yards to an imposing gateway with stone eagles: the entrance to Melmot Hall.
A line of cones barred anyone from driving in.
‘He is playing hard to get.’
Forced to move on, they despaired at the sight of more cars parked solidly along the left side of the narrow road.
‘You could have set me down by the entrance,’ Diamond said.
‘Sorry, guv.’
Much to Halliwell’s relief another driver moved out and left a space. He reversed in promptly and opened his door.
Diamond didn’t move. ‘How am I supposed to get out?’ His side of the car was against the hedge. A slimmer passenger might have managed it. His deputy had the tact not to say so.
‘Can you slide across and use my door?’
‘And damage my wedding tackle on your gear lever? No thanks.’
Halliwell drove out again to allow the big man to alight without mishap. The car was parked for the second time and they walked back to the entrance. Inside, people were strolling around the edges of an immaculate lawn in front of a large gabled house with tall Tudor chimneys. Halfway along the drive an elderly woman in a straw hat and pale yellow muslin dress was seated behind a trestle table. ‘You’ve brought some sunshine with you, gentlemen,’ she said when they reached her. ‘Two? That’ll be six pounds, please.’
‘Sorry to disappoint you, but it won’t,’ Diamond said. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Aren’t you here to visit the garden?’
‘We’re visiting the owner, Mr Melmot. Is he home?’ He thought the name would get them in, but it didn’t.
She eyed them with suspicion. ‘I’m Mrs Melmot and I don’t recall meeting you. Everyone has to pay today. It’s all for charity. Teas are being served on the terrace.’
Halliwell had picked a pamphlet off the table. He passed it to Diamond. It was about openings in Somerset under the National Gardens Scheme.
‘We didn’t come to see your garden, ma’am,’ Diamond said.
‘I guessed as much by the look of you,’ Mrs Melmot said in a tone that wasn’t complimentary, ‘and you’re not the only ones. They come from miles around for a slice of my famous lemon drizzle cake, but the entrance fee is the same whatever you’re here for.’
‘Is your husband on the premises?’
‘I hope not. He’s dead.’ She announced it as if talking about a felled tree, in the matter-of-fact tone of the well-raised Englishwoman.
There wasn’t anything adequate Diamond could say, so he waited for her to speak again.
‘He shot himself in 1999. Six pounds, please.’
After another pause, Diamond said, ‘It must be your son we’ve come to interview. Sorry about the misunderstanding. I haven’t made myself clear. We’re police officers.’
‘Do you have a warrant?’ she asked, unfazed. She’d evidently watched police dramas on TV.
‘We don’t require one. We want to speak to Francis Melmot, that’s all.’
They could have ignored her and stepped past, but in this quintessentially peaceful setting it seemed churlish to cause a scene. Actually one was brewing behind them. Some American visitors had been kept waiting in line. One of them asked what the hold-up was.
‘These gentlemen seem to think they can come in without tickets,’ Mrs Melmot said.
‘It’s for charity, for Christ’s sake, and cheap at the price,’ the man said, handing across a twenty-pound note. ‘Here, this should take care of it, and let’s all get started while the weather holds.’
‘That isn’t necessary,’ Diamond said, but the money was already in the cashbox. Mrs Melmot was no slouch with the cash. She’d also pressed yellow stickers on their lapels and their sponsor was pocketing his change. This farce had gone too far to reverse.
‘Settle up with the gentleman, Keith, and I’ll see you right.’ He marched up the drive towards the entrance porch and was stopped by a man in a green blazer with both hands raised.
‘The house isn’t open, sir.’