Diamond’s shoulders twitched in a reflex action. How could this be true?
44
H e recalled the heart-to-heart he’d had with Halliwell — blurting out his feelings about Paloma — on the drive back from the Ballance Street flat. My big mouth, he thought. This silly story about the ram raid could have been dealt with routinely, Jerry interviewed and cleared without anyone finding out who was dating his mother. Instead Halliwell feels in honour bound to tell me about it and I’m in honour bound for Paloma’s sake to deal with it myself. What will that do for our relationship?
Halliwell was backtracking fast. ‘Guv, I don’t believe Jackman. He’s giving us this bullshit to shift the blame.’
‘How does he know about the burned-out Pathfinder?’
‘He’s in the car-repair business. Spare parts. They can spot a dead one like vultures.’
‘Why would he make this up?’
‘He’s between a rock and hard place. He’s going to get hammered by the ram-raiders if he gives evidence against them, yet he owes us something for the fiasco the other night.’
‘So he fingers Jerry Kean, who has sod all to do with it? If that’s so, he’s an idiot. We check it out and find he’s lying. He’s worse off than before.’
‘Do you want to talk to him?’
‘Jackman? No, I don’t.’
‘Do we follow this up, or not? ‘ Diamond sighed, weighing the options. Absurd as the allegation was, it would have to be investigated. He looked at the time. ‘Leave this with me. I’ll get the truth of it.’
‘But you’re wanted here. The hangings.’
‘I said I’ll do it.’ He walked away, leaving Halliwell staring after him.
Time was bearing down, but the questioning of Dalton Monnington had come to a temporary halt. How long did it take to get over a hyperventilation attack? Twenty minutes? Half an hour? Or longer?
The other main suspect, Harry Lang, was still semiconscious.
If there was a right time to see Jerry Kean, it was now. He took out his new mobile and called the only number in the directory.
Paloma’s voice lifted his spirits, for all the awkwardness he felt. ‘Hello.’
‘This is Peter.’
‘Peter? How nice.’
He was tempted to say not nice, not nice at all. Instead he asked if she knew where Jerry was.
‘Right here with me.’
That simplified matters. ‘In your home?’
‘Sainsbury’s, as it happens, late-night shopping. Where it all started, really. Do you want to speak to him?’
‘I’d rather see him in person. It’s sort of… delicate.’
‘Where are you? Still at work? You’re overdoing it.’
‘You caught me on a bad day.’
‘You’d better speak to Jerry. I’m handing this across.’
Jerry’s voice asked what the problem was.
‘It’s to do with your stolen Pathfinder. I need to clarify a couple of things with you.’
‘How can I help?’ Jerry said in such a civil tone that Diamond was tempted to deal with the matter over the phone.
But when the call ended, Jerry would be annoyed he’d come under suspicion. He’d sound off to Paloma and she’d be hurt, as any parent would. Better, surely, to deal with it face to face. ‘What are your plans for the next twenty minutes?’
‘Back home to unload the shopping.’
‘Paloma’s?’
‘Mine first. Her car is at my place.’
‘I’ll see you there? It won’t take long. Where exactly do you live?’
He told Leaman he would be out of the building for the next half-hour. ‘Time out for all concerned,’ he said with a weary smile that left Leaman in no doubt that his boss was as much in need of a break as the hyperventilating suspect.
*
Jerry’s flat was in Cavendish Mansions, a converted hotel in Laura Place, just across Pulteney Bridge. No doubt Paloma’s money helped him live at a smart address, just as she subsidised his cars. This young man had no need to get involved in criminality, Diamond told himself. The ram-raid charge just didn’t stick.
They were ahead of him after he’d parked the car, carrying bags of shopping into the building. He stepped out and caught up with them in the entrance hall. Jerry was collecting his post from the pigeon-hole system near the lift. Paloma turned and kissed Diamond. He was aware how tense and tight his lips had become. He was shaking a little. This interview would be about as stressful as any he’d done.
He took over Paloma’s bag of shopping. Strictly, it was Jerry’s shopping. No doubt of that, because it was one of those Hosannah totebags. All the shopping was bagged like that. He had no use for Sainsbury’s carriers. The ecology was safe with Jerry.
‘We did a joint shop,’ Paloma said. ‘My stuff is still in the car. At least, I think it is. I hope Jerry hasn’t got my wine.’
‘Mother, if I have, you know it’s safe with me,’ Jerry said as he joined them.
‘“Eat, drink and be merry,”’ she said, winking at Diamond.
‘That’s somewhere in the good book, isn’t it?’
‘And you know how it goes on?’ Jerry said.
‘Never get into a quoting contest with my son,’ she said to Diamond.
‘All I can quote is the official caution,’ he said, ‘and I try not to do it among friends.’
Jerry let them into his flat. The first impression was that it could do with some lighter wallpaper. The heavy maroon in the hall set off a couple of pictures to nice effect, but only after the lights over them were switched on. They were views of cathedrals. That figures, Diamond thought. They wouldn’t be reclining nudes.
The kitchen where they took the bags looked as if no one used it. Every surface was clean and uncluttered.
‘Put your frozen stuff away and then Peter can ask you his questions,’ Paloma said. ‘He’s still working, unlike you and me.’
‘Listening to you,’ Jerry said, ‘anyone would think I was still about nine years old.’
‘Darling, you are, to me,’ Paloma said, winking at Diamond.
The fridge-freezer, when opened, was a miracle of arrangement, everything sized and sorted. The newly purchased items went into slots that were the only possible places for them.
‘Cup of tea?’ Paloma said.
Diamond said he hadn’t time, so they went into the living room and sat on padded upright chairs with ornate wooden backs. There was a piano, and it was easy to imagine a Victorian musical evening here, with polite guests watching the chiming clock on the mantelshelf and wishing the chairs were more comfortable. A bookcase and sideboard completed the furniture. The books were of the sort those Victorians would have called ‘improving’ — biographies of Mother Teresa and Anne Frank shared the space with Pilgrim’s Progress and Golding’s The Spire. The CDs were mostly of church music. It takes all sorts, Diamond decided.
‘So is there some query about the love of my life?’ Jerry asked.
Diamond, his mind on higher thoughts, was thrown until Paloma said, ‘His Pathfinder.’
‘Got you.’ It was a rare moment of humour from Jerry.
‘My late lamented Pathfinder,’ Jerry said.
‘The night after you reported it missing a ram raid took place — a jeweller’s in Westgate Street.’
‘Westgate Street? I saw the shopfront all smashed in. Did my car do that?’
‘I’m asking you, Jerry.’
He vibrated his lips, more puzzled by the question than upset. ‘How would I know? I wasn’t at the wheel.’
‘Someone says you were. He was involved in the raid and says you planned the whole thing.’
Paloma said, ‘Peter, that’s crazy.’
Jerry shook his head slowly and curled his lip in disdain.
It was easy to understand how this was an affront to both of them. ‘That’s why I’m here,’ Diamond said, ‘to get Jerry’s side of the story. Where were you on Sunday night?’
‘Easy,’ Paloma said, folding her arms defiantly. ‘Evensong.’
‘Perhaps Jerry would like to speak for himself.’ This sounded like a put-down, and was. He’d have said it to anyone interrupting. But it pained him to see how Paloma turned pale and then shrank into herself.