‘There’s no gun club in Bath.’
‘How did you get there? Not on your pushbike?’
‘Other people offered me lifts. Several came from Bath.’
‘Including Willis?’
‘He was one of them, yes. Sean knows nothing about any of this,’ she insisted.
‘I’m not suggesting he does. Let’s talk about Harry. He had his own way of controlling youth crime. Confiscation, as one of our sources put it. He’d take away illegal goods and demand hush money. Did you know about that?’
She shrugged. ‘Make a guess.’
‘We haven’t searched your house, but I’m sure we’ll find a stash in the loft or under the floorboards. Harry’s biggest prize was Soldier Nuttall’s sniper rifle, unwisely borrowed by his son Royston to impress his friends. You found the gun and the temptation was too much. Harry had supplied you with the means of your freedom, the same make of rifle the Somerset Sniper was known to use.’
‘It wasn’t as cold-blooded as that,’ she said. ‘Several things came on top of each other.’
He waited for her to expand on this, but she chose not to. ‘I know what some of them are,’ he said. ‘There was all the stuff in the media about the sniper shooting policemen. Wives of policemen all over the West Country worried sick that their men would get the next bullet. You, I imagine, thought along different lines.’
Her mouth twitched into a quick, faint smile.
‘You knew Harry’s beat took him along Walcot Street, below the Paragon. Last Saturday night you let yourself into the house with the gun and waited in the empty garden flat and most of what happened went according to plan. You picked off Harry with your second shot. You meant to make your getaway at once, but there was a delay.’
‘That damned alarm went off,’ she said. ‘I was afraid someone in the house would look out and see me in the garden, so I crouched down among the weeds. I lost one of the cartridge cases and panicked a bit. The sniper never leaves them behind. It would give you the chance to prove I used a different rifle. I don’t know how long I was scrabbling around, trying to find it. Then I noticed Sean’s blinds were raised. He had no idea I was there. I couldn’t go back through the basement flat and risk running into him. I had to give him time to go back to bed. I hadn’t reckoned on some of your lot getting there so soon. I was hiding behind the nettles. The police noticed the gun where I’d left it, but then they went away for a minute and only one came back.’
‘You picked up the gun and cracked him over the head with it. Almost a double murder.’
‘He’ll be all right, won’t he?’ she asked without much concern.
‘Decent of you to enquire. He’ll survive. Whether he’s brain-damaged, I don’t know. How did you eventually make your escape?’
‘The way I came. On my pushbike.’
He was in awe. ‘Where was it?’
‘In the street opposite.’
‘You cycled through the streets at night with the murder weapon?’
‘It’s a short ride, under a mile, even taking the quiet route along Royal Avenue, and the gun folds up and fits into the saddlebag.’
‘After which you played the angry widow, sat back and watched events unfold.’
‘More or less,’ Emma said.
‘Right. “More or less” means you weren’t as passive as it appeared. You still did what you could to influence things. Top marks for the fake blog, inventing a whole different explanation.’
‘So you were taken in?’
‘Almost. Something didn’t ring true. I felt this was an educated woman trying too hard to sound streetwise and trendy.’
‘In what way?’
‘Some of the conversations and how you handled them. “She was like …” and “She went …” I bet you don’t say stuff like that to your own friends. It didn’t chime in with the rest, the university degree, teaching the piano and so forth.’
‘It’s the modern vernacular.’
‘And only an educated woman would use a phrase like that. But I did fall for the “You’re next” threats. They reinforced the idea of a series of shootings. I really thought someone in the police must have threatened Harry. I suppose you added the note to his card-case after it was returned to you.’
‘Anything to deflect suspicion,’ she said.
‘Including the one you sent me?’
‘That was meant,’ she said in the same calm tone of acceptance and then without warning switched to a shrill note of frenzy. ‘Because you’re next, Detective bloody Diamond, of course you’re next, else why would I have brought you all the way up here?’
With that, she braced herself and leapt off.
Directly below her, Diamond had the split-second warning of what she was about to do, but there was no escape.
The full weight of her body hurtled towards him.
Her feet caught his left shoulder and swung him to the right. In that infinitesimal moment of grace the instinct for self-preservation had made him grip the handrail hard and pull himself closer. Even so, his left arm was jerked off the rail and he careered backwards and lost his footing. He dangled in space, only the fingers of one hand stopping him falling to his death. By kicking out frantically he got his left foot between two steps and hauled himself back to connect with the staircase and hold on.
Only Emma knew whether her leap was intended to be suicidal. Certainly she meant to take Diamond with her. She fell no further than the landing, hitting it with a thud that sounded hideous and final, but was not. She lay groaning on the narrow platform.
Diamond was fortunate. His only injury was to his dignity. His trousers had ripped wide open at the back.
The rescue effort was not long in coming. Emma, with both legs broken, had to be winched down on a stretcher. She was still conscious when Diamond was helped off the steps. She saw him and said, ‘You think you’re lucky, and you are, bloody lucky, but when this comes to court I’m denying everything. You’ve got it all to prove.’
English law has its unique way of dealing with offenders. When the cases finally came to court, Soldier Nuttall was given a suspended sentence of six months for possession of an unlicensed weapon. Emma Tasker was found guilty of murder and given the mandatory life sentence, but at the lowest end of the scale thanks to a spirited defence. She would be out some years before the expiry of the fifteen year term. Hossain Farhadi, the Somerset Sniper, was also found guilty of murder and told that the life sentence in his case meant at least thirty years. He seemed to regard this as salvation. Jack Gull hailed it as a triumph for the Serial Crimes Unit.
The bruises healed in Bath CID. Diamond was soon back on good terms with his team. One afternoon he was called to Georgina’s office. She was looking benevolent for once. ‘I have good news, Peter. This is in confidence. Ingeborg’s promotion to sergeant is approved.’
‘That is good,’ he said, delighted, ‘and not before time.’
But where there’s good news, there is usually bad as well.
‘Headquarters have been looking at your budget report. I’m afraid you’ve overspent again.’
‘I don’t think so, ma’am,’ he said.
‘I had to bump up the figures a bit before they went in.’
‘Oh?’
‘We were sent the invoice for a replacement suit.’
‘Not by me,’ he said. ‘I ripped a perfectly good pair of trousers on that gasholder thing, and I can’t wear the jacket without them. I’ve never claimed for clothing.’
‘You wouldn’t get it,’ Georgina said.
‘Who’s got the nerve to claim for a suit?’
‘Mr. Anderson Jakes. He said one of your officers was responsible. I didn’t want it itemised for the accountants to question, so it’s gone through as extra overtime.’
‘How was it damaged?’
‘Unfortunately it came apart at the shoulder seam.’
‘That’s repairable, ma’am.’
‘Apparently not. The more expensive the suit, th
e less likely it is that a repair will pass muster. This is a bespoke Savile Row suit costing over a thousand pounds.’
He was outraged. ‘A grand? My suits cost a hundred and forty-nine.’
Georgina passed no comment.
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