He marched in and greeted the team. It was always good to see the place transformed with the trappings of an incident room: display boards, crime scene photos, extra phones, more civilian staff. The fire service had done their work and he could get into his office — or so he briefly believed. All traces of the shattered VDU, as Leaman had called it, had been removed, but the Wife of Bath on her dolly had not, and she remained a hazard. Worse, the room reeked of ammonia or some chemical. Having stepped inside, he came straight out again, forced to slum it with the rest of the team.
He parked himself temporarily at Keith Halliwell’s vacant desk. There was plenty to catch up on. John Leaman with his brain-numbing efficiency had been looking through CCTV footage from a camera in Queen Square in the hope of spotting the silver getaway van. The one-way system round the square meant that there was not much interference in the view of traffic. The imaging was good and the registration numbers showed up well.
‘This could be our best chance, guv,’ Leaman told him. ‘I’ve recorded seventeen sightings of silver vans in the two-hour slot.’
‘Where’s this camera located?’
He pointed to the map on the whiteboard. ‘Top corner, where it links with Queen Square Place and Charlotte Street.’
Diamond spotted the snag straight away. ‘The auction rooms are on the other side of the square, so this would be the second possible exit.’
Leaman reddened. ‘Actually the third. They could have escaped down Barton Street. But if I was driving a getaway van, this is the way I’d go, heading straight out of the city.’
Diamond wasn’t persuaded. Professional criminals would surely have taken note of where the cameras were sited. ‘Better trace the owners, then.’
‘Do you want me to run the film for you?’
‘Of seventeen silver vans? No thanks, John. I’m sure you missed nothing. Why is this desk empty? Where’s Keith?’
‘At the autopsy.’
‘Right you are.’ He wished he’d remembered. It was well known in CID that Halliwell regularly got the grisly job that should, by rights, have been the top man’s. All Diamond could offer as an excuse was that he expected little of interest to emerge from the mortuary. Everyone knew how Gildersleeve had met his death and there was small likelihood that the dissected corpse would yield more information about the killer. Ballistics would specify the bullet used and maybe the type of weapon, and that was it. In a shooting such as this, forensic science was about as helpful as clairvoyancy. The CSI team were unlikely to have recovered any DNA, fingerprints, shoeprints, stray hairs or specks of blood other than those of the victim.
‘Has anyone talked yet?’ he turned in his chair and asked Ingeborg. He was damned sure the case wouldn’t be cracked without outside help.
‘It’s early days, guv.’
‘That’s a negative?’
‘Well, yes. Making contact can’t be rushed.’
She was right. Meetings with informants generally happened over a few beers at a time and place of their choosing. They couldn’t risk being seen with a detective.
Diamond felt his arm touched lightly. He looked up at Paul Gilbert.
‘Guv, could I have a word?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘It’s personal.’
‘I see. We can go outside.’
Normally he would have used the office.
The corridor was crowded with uniformed officers just out of their morning briefing. He took the young DC out of the building and across the street to a coffee shop.
‘Something up?’ he asked when they’d been served and had found a table well away from anyone else.
‘No, guv. It’s this. You said yesterday you might need someone to go undercover and find out who fired the shot. I want to volunteer.’
‘Really?’ He was taken by surprise. ‘That’s good to hear. Thanks.’ Pity he couldn’t have sounded more enthusiastic. Gilbert wasn’t remotely right for the job. The lad had performed well in some tough situations, but this was a totally different assignment calling for guile and coolness under pressure.
‘Is that a yes?’
‘I’m going to keep it in mind,’ he said. ‘The situation hasn’t yet arisen. I’m bound to say you’re the least experienced member of the team, even if you’re one of the keenest. For one thing this will be bloody dangerous and for another it’s walking a tightrope. Whoever does it needs to get in with the pond life without dirtying his hands.’
‘With all due respect, guv, I’m up for it.’
‘Right. You’ve made yourself clear.’
Gilbert appeared to sense the barrier coming down. ‘I’ve been attached to CID for four years now. I’m not the rookie I was when you took me on for the hangman case.’
‘As long ago as that, was it? Time flies.’
‘I’ll be perfect for this because my face isn’t all that well known locally. Some of the others will be known to the gangs.’
‘Did someone put you up to this?’
Gilbert coloured a little and shook his head. ‘It’s my own idea.’
And he had to be believed. He spoke the truth, which was the quality that barred him from the job.
‘I want to get more sand in my boots.’
‘You what?’
‘Sand in my boots. Experience.’
‘Odd turn of phrase for a young guy.’
The blush became more obvious. ‘It’s something my mum says.’
‘So your mum’s been getting at you, has she? You’re still living at home?’
‘Can’t afford a place of my own. It’s expensive round here. On a sergeant’s wage I could manage it, but I won’t get the stripes for years and years at the rate I’m going. They still ask me to fetch tea for them.’
‘You’re out of uniform. Plenty would swap with you.’
‘I know. But mum keeps onБ’
Diamond tensed. ‘Have you talked at home about this case?’
‘Christ, no. I wouldn’t do that,’ Gilbert said with such a start that he slopped his coffee. ‘It’s an ongoing gripe of hers. She says I’ve got no ambition.’
‘I expect she’s as keen as you are to see you in your own place. What does your dad say?’
‘He died when I was eleven. An operation that went wrong. There’s just the two of us.’
Diamond had a rush of sympathy. He could see it all now. ‘Your mum wants the best for you. It’s understandable. But you can be sure she’d miss you if you moved out.’
‘I don’t think so. She’s got a boyfriend.’
He’d thought he could see it all. The pressure on young Gilbert wasn’t what he’d imagined. ‘All I can say is this. In CID, opportunities present themselves sometimes when you least expect them. You may not be right for one job, but there’s always another in the offing.’
Gilbert nodded. He couldn’t hide the disappointment.
‘It’s good that you spoke to me,’ Diamond said. ‘Your mum’s wrong about you not having ambition. We’d better drink up and get back to the job.’
Keith Halliwell was back from the autopsy and biting into a doughnut, unaffected by what he had witnessed. He stood beside his desk uncertain how to deal with the large cuckoo in occupation. After yesterday there was still tension between them — not so much over Diamond’s pratfall as the fact that Halliwell had spoken out about the suggestion to send someone undercover.
Diamond showed no sign of moving. ‘What’s the story?’
‘The professor was unlucky. The bullet severed the aorta. That’s the main artery that supplies blood from the heart to the rest of the body.’
‘Not much doubt about that, then.’
‘But he probably wouldn’t have lived much longer anyway. When Dr. Sealy opened the brain he found a tumour the size of a plum. The medical records made no mention of it. I’m wondering if that helps to explain Gildersleeve’s behaviour at the auction.’