The Last Detective

He dipped his eyes. 'As a kind of insurance. I was dead worried the drugs would come up at the trial, and they did – on the first day. So I needed to switch the interest back to the letters. I phoned the police and told them to look in the house. Until today I believed Dana was guilty. I wouldn't have done it otherwise. Have I said enough?'

'More than enough for me,' the judge acidly commented. 'Does the prosecution propose to re-examine?'

Sir Job declined. 'And in view of the testimony we have just heard, we shall not be calling any further witnesses, m'lord.'

'The prosecution case is closed?'

'Yes, m'lord.'

Up in the public gallery, Peter Diamond sat back in his chair, mentally spent.

Lillian Bargainer rose again. 'I submit, my lord, that the case we have heard from the prosecution is not strong enough to lay before the jury.'

The judge agreed and directed the jury to acquit Dana Didrikson.

Dana covered her face and sobbed.

Chapter Five

'YOU LOOK LIKE A PIECE of chewed twine,' Stephanie told him that evening after they'd eaten. 'And no wonder. Why don't you get an early night?'

'Presently.'

'If it's the news you're waiting for, I saw it all at 6.30. She appeared at the press conference and scarcely said more than a couple of words. She didn't even smile. The papers are offering terrific money for her story, but she's told them what to do with it. You've got to admire her.'

'Yes.'

'That QC of hers was a woman, I noticed. She must have been brilliant to fathom what really happened. You can't put that down to feminine intuition.'

'I don't,' said Diamond.

'What a brain!"

'Lilian Bargainer?'

'Well, yes. That Inspector Wigfull was way off beam and so were you.'

The injustice wounded him less than being coupled with Wigfull. 'Off beam? What about?'

'The cocaine. You should have been on to that from the beginning.'

'We got diverted. The forensic tests were negative. They didn't show Geraldine Jackman was using the stuff. Yes, I know,' he added sheepishly. 'I'm the one who says never rely on bloody scientists.'

'What went wrong with the tests?'

'She hadn't taken any of the stuff before she was killed. Not for some days. She was desperate to get some, which was how Buckle was drawn into it. The irony is that she had several packets in the house, the ones I found. They must have been left over from one of the parties she gave, and she forgot they were there. She focused totally on her supplier.'

'And he killed her.'

'Oh, no,' said Diamond.

'I mean Buckle. He's been arrested.'

'Yes, but on a drugs charge.'

She frowned. 'Isn't he the killer, then?'

After he declined to add any more, she said, 'I suppose you know who it was, cleverclogs. You ought to be back in the police.' As if instantly regretting the remark, she reached out and squeezed his hand. 'But I'm glad you aren't. I see more of you.'

'Hm.'

'Let's have a pub lunch tomorrow, just the two of us.'

He shook his head. 'Sorry, I'm already booked for lunch.'

'Oh? Who with?'

The murderer.' He reached for the TV remote control.

Conceding no hint of surprise, curiosity or concern, she said, 'AH right, Saturday.'

He got to bed soon after. Stephanie's insouciance and his cussedness kept them both awake for a few hours more. Some time after midnight, he told her everything.

Chapter Six

HE SAT HUDDLED UNDER A big black umbrella on a bench in front of the Abbey, his raincoat buttoned to the neck and the collar up around his ears, touching his hat brim, indistinguishable from the plainclothes men seen in grainy black and white films of forty years ago. He had bought two portions of fish and chips from the shop at the end of Abbey Gate Street. They waited, wrapped, in his lap. A fine drizzle had blown in from the Bristol Channel and settled over the city. It was so misty that half the Abbey front was invisible. Even the pigeons had abandoned the place, but he was content to be there. This was what it was all about.

He was keeping a close watch on everyone who crossed the paved churchyard. Most were shoppers or tourists. A line of schoolchildren chattering in French approached the West Door and went in. From Stall Street came the opening bars of the Bruch Violin Concerto; the busker played regularly, backed by a taped orchestra. He had done well to find a dry pitch this morning. But he would have done better to have waited a few minutes longer, because the Abbey bells started chiming midday.

'Do we really have to talk here?'

The voice came from behind Diamond. He turned and saw Matthew Didrikson at his shoulder. 'Come and sit down. It's dry under the umbrella, and the fish and chips won't stay warm for ever.'

The boy came around the bench and accepted the packet Diamond handed him. He remained standing.

'At least we can talk in private here,' Diamond said. 'Have you seen your mother?'

'Yesterday evening. Greg took us out for a meal. It's impossible at home with the press and all that.'

'A celebration feast?'

'Not really.' Matthew stared down at the pavement, frowning. 'Greg's going to America.'

'Yes, I heard.'

'He wants my ma to go with him and bring me, too.'

Diamond asked straightforwardly, 'Did you tell them you killed Mrs Jackman?'

Matthew caught his breath and shivered. He continued to look downwards. Today the child in him was more obvious than the man.

'You should.'

'I can't.'

'Why not?'

'It's too much.'

'You mean after everything she's been through?'

Matthew gave a nod.

'I believe she knows,' said Diamond. That's why the acquittal left her unmoved. In her heart of hearts she has a sense of what really happened, Mat. And she's staying silent because she's your own mother and she loves you. But she knows the truth has to come out, and she'd rather hear it from you than someone like me.'

The boy was scanning Diamond's face to satisfy himself that the words were totally sincere. 'Are you going to tell?' A playground phrase.

'I will if necessary.'

His frankness measured up to the scrutiny, because Mat said, 'I'll speak to her.' He looked away, at a child crossing the yard on a BMX bike. 'Will I go to prison?'

'Not prison. You're under age.'

'Will there be a trial, like my mother had?'

'Probably.' This wasn't the time to speculate on the problems the judicial system faced in dealing with a twelve-year-old accused of murder. Nor was it useful to explain what detention during Her Majesty's Pleasure would really amount to. 'Want to sit down?'

This time Matthew accepted. He had to sit close to Diamond to get under his umbrella. There was moisture at the edges of his eyes. 'I didn't mean to kill her. When I went to the house, I only meant to find those letters. I knew she must have taken them just to spoil everything.'

'Why don't you tell me about it from the beginning? That Monday morning your mother had a call from Professor Jackman to say the letters were missing.'

'She was really upset. I could tell how angry she was, and I was angry, too. Mrs Jackman was a wicked woman. I hated her. She called my ma some horrible things and it was only because of her that I couldn't go swimming with Greg any more. He didn't want it to stop. He'd been really kind to me. He saved my life when I fell in the weir. Greg wasn't using me as some kind of worm on a hook, like she said, just because he fancied my ma, or something. He was…'

'Like a father?'

'Yes.' Then Matthew rapidly added, 'I still love my real father.'

The 'real' father who preferred playing chess, who hadn't bothered to come to England for the trial. The reality was that the father had rejected his son. Matthew's blind loyalty suppressed a terrible, deadly despair.