Diamond Solitaire

by Peter Lovesey

  "Your what?"

  "The bag with my lipstick and things. It's here somewhere."

  "I don't believe this! Get your ass out of here."

  She went

  Eastland would use her as a lure. There was a better chance of Lundin opening his door to the woman who worked for him man to the New York police.

  Above their heads the floorboards creaked. Someone was definitely up there. Stein immediately radioed his lieutenant Up to now, this operation couldn't be faulted. No doubt there were men at front and back, waiting for the swoop.

  Diamond waited too, striving to apply concentration to the job he and Stein were about to do. He had to believe they would find Naomi unharmed in the apartment upstairs. He kept thinking how small her hand had felt in his. Usually he remembered the eyes of people. He could picture her eyes, but because of the nature of her disability, they weren't so eloquent. It was still the memory of a touch that moved him.

  He and Stein took up position with the door fractionally ajar for a view of the hall. They knew this would take time to set up, and they waited at least twenty minutes before anything else happened.

  Then there was the sound of the front door opening and footsteps across the tiled hallway. The call girl passed her own door and started climbing the stairs, her leather-soled boots, tokens of her trade, clattering on the wooden treads.

  Stein drew his gun.

  Two shadowy figures crossed the hallway a short way behind the woman. They made no sound.

  She turned on the landing and started to ascend the second flight Her escorts followed.

  Down in the hallway, more cops crept across the narrow bar of vision between the doorjamb and the edge of the door.

  The woman was out of sight now, but the sound of Lundin's doorbell being pressed was loud and clear and so was her voice saying, "Fredrik, it's only me, Dixie."

  Diamond heard footsteps cross the room above them, but he didn't hear Lundin's front door being opened. Presumably he was looking out through the peephole.

  The bell sounded a second time.

  By now the two gunmen would be flat to the wall on either side of the door.

  "Fredrik, are you there?"

  Something was being unfastened.

  The woman's voice said, "Hi, Fredrik, could you possibly step downstairs a minute?"

  "What the fuck do you want?" Lundin's voice demanded.

  "I have a small problem with a client. Please."

  "What kind of problem?"

  "Um... he won't leave."

  "What do you mean?"

  Come on, come on, Diamond mentally urged him. Just step outside, will you.

  "Like I said. He's being difficult."

  "He won't leave the apartment? He had a trick and he won't leave?"

  "I can't force him."

  "Who is he?"

  "Some guy. I don't know him. I can't work if he won't leave."

  "Okay, okay, you go back. I'll see to it."

  The door closed.

  Diamond clapped his hand to his head in frustration.

  Dixie the call girl came downstairs markedly faster than she'd gone up. She pushed her way in past Diamond and Stein. "That's all I'm doing for you guys," she told them. "You'd better not mess up now, or I'll be dead meat"

  "Zip it up," said Stein. There isn't much credit in helping the police.

  The wait began again, and it seemed longer, even though it was under five minutes.

  Then footsteps crossed the floor upstairs and Lundin could be heard unfastening the latch on his door. This time he definitely stepped out onto the landing, because there was a shout of "Freeze—police!"

  Rashly, Lundin chose not to obey the order. He could be heard making a dash for the stairs. He must have got down two or three when a shot was fired, followed by two more almost immediately. A shriek of pain gave way to the sound of a body hitting the stairs and thumping down several steps.

  "They got him," said Sergeant Stein. He stared through the gap while shouts were being exchanged by the police in the hall, checking that it was safe to close in on the wounded man. "Let's go."

  When they opened the door, a man in a white T-shirt and black jeans was lying near the bottom of the stairs and one of the cops was standing over him. Stein ran straight past, up the two flights, with Diamond close behind.

  The door to Lundin's apartment stood open. The light from inside was dazzling after the long wait in darkness. The place was lavishly furnished in brown leather furniture, cream-colored units and a Chinese carpet. There were huge indoor plants and pieces of bronze abstract sculpture.

  But mere was no little girl.

  Diamond checked the other rooms—bedroom, kitchen and bathroom. He tugged back the bedding, flung open cupboards, and—with grim apprehension—looked into the bath.

  She was not there.

  He went back into the living room, looking around for some place he may have missed.

  "Mr. Diamond." Stein had followed him into the bathroom and was still there.

  Diamond found him kneeling by the toilet pedestal.

  "Would this be the kid?"

  A question that struck horror into Diamond.

  "I always look in the John," the sergeant explained. "They panic and try and flush things away." He was holding up some small torn pieces of a photo.

  Diamond arranged them on the floor. There were seven altogether, and they made an incomplete, but recognizable picture.

  "Yes," he said. "That's her."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Diamond was being difficult again.

  "Apart from anything else, I just don't think you're built for this," Lieutenant Eastland told him. "Stein can drive you to the hospital in comfort."

  "I'm going in the ambulance," Diamond insisted. He had his foot on the step and it was just a matter of climbing inside. He would have appreciated a helping hand, because it was a high step for a heavy man.

  "The paramedic has to travel in the back and so does one of our officers."

  "Let the officer ride in the front," said Diamond. "I'll keep an eye on the prisoner for you. Look, the man isn't going to run away with two bullets in his leg."

  "You can question him at the hospital."

  "I want the answers now, Lieutenant. You've wasted too much time already."

  This touched Eastland on a raw nerve. "We wasted time? You wanted to run this thing like a Thanksgiving party, not me. The subtle approach. You were bothered about the kid, remember?"

  "Correct. And I'm still bothered about her." With that, Diamond leaned into the ambulance and grabbed the end of the stretcher to hoist himself aboard, with near-disastrous consequences, because the stretcher was mounted on a trolley and started rolling towards him. He had just about enough momentum of his own to climb in and stop the thing from upending himself and the hapless Lundin in the street. Then he sank onto the spare seat beside the paramedic. For a man of his bulk, occupation was more persuasive than argument. "See you later, Lieutenant."

  Eastland glared and delivered his parting shot. "If you're typical of England, I'm not surprised it pisses with rain every day. It should crap as well." He nodded to the driver to close the doors.

  "How long will this take us?" Diamond asked the young man beside him as suavely as if nothing had been said.

  "You mean to the hospital? Six-seven minutes."

  "Right" He leaned forward to get a better view of the prisoner's face at the far end of the stretcher.

  "Careful of his leg," cautioned the paramedic.

  "Careful of my leg," said Lundin with even more concern. He'd been given a painkilling injection, but a stray hand hovering over the wounded limb must have been painful in prospect

  "Never mind his leg," said Diamond. "Show me his arm. The right"

  The paramedic pulled aside the sheet from Lundin's torso. On the right arm was a razor blade tattoo.

  Lundin spoke up. "You think I'm a needle freak, you're wrong."

  "You're not too far go
ne to talk, then," said Diamond. "I want to know about the child. Where is she?"

  "I want a lawyer."

  That old gambit, thought Diamond. "You know something, Lundin?" he remarked. "Nobody likes weirdos like you who play around with little girls. Accidents keep happening to them in jail."

  "Little girls? What are you talking about?"

  "Don't give me that I saw you pick her up at JFK. With her mother."

  "So that's who you are," said Lundin as realization dawned.

  Diamond was rather put out that he hadn't been recognized right off. Once seen, he was seldom forgotten. To be fair, Lundin had a difficult view from his stretcher. Anyway, they seemed to have got over the potential difficulty of requiring a lawyer in attendance. "Right So we know each other. I'm the fellow you knocked over and you're the child molester."

  "That's a lie."

  "You definitely knocked me over with a luggage cart."

  "The other part—I'm no pervert."

  "You're acting for someone else who is—is that what you're telling me?"

  "I'm telling you nothing."

  "That's even more despicable, supplying children to people like that."

  "You're talking horseshit."

  "Don't tempt me, Lundin."

  "What? Get away from my leg!"

  "Where is the child? What did you do with her?"

  "I don't have to talk to you. Who are you?" Lundin asked.

  "A man with a weight problem," said Diamond, folding his arms ostentatiously and inching closer to the wounded leg. "Sometimes I need to prop myself up."

  "Bastard! Get away from me, will you?"

  "Better not call me names, then. Where is she?"

  "The kid?"

  "Yes."

  "She's okay. It's nothing like you say."

  "Her mother isn't okay. Did you kill the child later?"

  "No, I tell you. No!"

  "She's alive?"

  "Yes."

  "So where can I find her?"

  Silence.

  "Where can I find her, Lundin?"

  "No, get off! I handed her over. The deal was that I would hand her over."

  "Who to?"

  "I can't say—I don't know."

  "Do you care about the child?" Diamond asked.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Yes, I know it doesn't make sense to a hired killer to care about a child, but let me put it to you this way. You're going to stand trial for Mrs. Tanaka's death. If the child is also killed, you're an accessory to a second murder."

  "She's okay."

  "You keep saying that, but how do you know? This person she's now with may already have killed her."

  "I don't think so."

  "They hired you to kill the mother. Why should they draw the line at the child?"

  He hesitated and asked yet again, "Mister, who are you?"

  "My name is Diamond."

  "You a cop?"

  "I am not" Sometimes candor is rewarded with the truth. It was worth trying. "I'm a private citizen. I came over from England because of the child. Naomi was taken illegally from a children's home, and I care very much what is happening to her."

  "You're not a cop?"

  "That's what I said."

  "Are you taping this conversation?"

  "No."

  After a pause, Lundin plucked up enough confidence to say, "There was a contract on the woman, not the kid."

  "You were hired to kill the woman?"

  This was a matter Diamond should have sidestepped, he realized the moment he'd spoken. It added nothing to his knowledge and it pulled Lundin up with a jolt "Forget it—I don't need to talk to you."

  "Who hired you?"

  Silence.

  Diamond adroitly switched to another question. "You said you handed over the child. When was this?"

  Grudgingly, Lundin muttered, "Last evening."

  "By arrangement?"

  Lundin started to say, "I don't have to answer these damn fool—" and then interrupted himself when he noticed Diamond unfolding his arms. "They told me to bring the kid to the Trump Tower and leave her at the top of the escalator on the second floor at nine p.m."

  "Hand her over to someone?"

  "No, just leave her."

  "And you did?"

  "I figured somebody was going to be waiting for her."

  "Did you see anyone?"

  "Mister, in this game, you don't want to see anyone."

  "How did you get the instructions, then?"

  "The phone."

  "Man or woman?"

  "Man, I guess."

  All of this was leading nowhere. Fredrik Lundin didn't know where Naomi was, or who was holding her. He would be charged with Mrs. Tanaka's murder, but the people who hired him had made damned sure he was incapable of putting the police onto them. The trail had gone cold.

  "Let's go back to the first instructions you had. Who made the contact?"

  "I don't know. I was phoned."

  And so it went on. Lundin had met nobody. A voice had told him what to do, where to pick up the money that was his down payment for the elimination of Mrs. Tanaka. He made it sound as commonplace as selling a house, with ninety percent payable on completion, except that "completion" had a more sinister interpretation.

  Diamond didn't need the six or seven minutes the journey took. In four minutes flat he'd learned all he was likely to learn from Fredrik Lundin. The police would take up the questioning at the hospital and no doubt they'd extract enough information to put him behind bars for a long term, but they would find out nothing Diamond wanted to know, nothing of immediate use in tracing Naomi.

  They got to the hospital and Lundin was wheeled away to have his wounds seen to. Diamond shared his disappointment with Lieutenant Eastland.

  Eastland was still sore from the earlier exchange. "What did you expect?" he commented when he'd heard how little had emerged about Lundin's paymasters. "The guy is a functionary. Why keep a dog and bark yourself?"

  "I hope you're not giving up on the child."

  "Did I say that? Did you hear me say that?"

  "No, but—"

  "Okay. What are your plans, Diamond?"

  "Mine? I, em, I haven't decided."

  "Are you still staying at that two-bit hotel, the Firbank?"

  Diamond had to think for a moment "I suppose I am."

  "You can ride back with me. I'm leaving soon. Stein will take over here."

  He saw, of course, that mis wasn't an olive branch. Eastland wanted him away from the hospital while the questioning took place, and for once it seemed sensible to comply.

  "Okay, I got a little above myself," Diamond admitted when they were together in the back of the police car. "I need your help more man you need mine." It was the nearest he would come to an apology.

  "I thought you would strangle the guy."

  "Lundin, do you mean? No, I was wrong about him. I really believed this was part of a vice racket Now, I think the child was kidnapped for some other reason. Lundin happens to be a pimp, but mat's not what he was involved in here."

  "He runs mree or four girls in the street where he lives. He's small potatoes," said Eastland. "So what's behind this?

  What's the motive? Why would anyone pay to have a woman murdered and a kid handed over to them? What are we dealing with here—a custody dispute?"

  "The tug of love?" said Diamond. "Not the way I see it Nobody has shown much affection for Naomi. She was abandoned in London until Mrs. Tanaka came along—and she didn't treat the child with noticeable kindness."

  "She wasn't the mother."

  "Right Where are the parents? They've been conspicuously silent If they were in dispute for custody of the child, they'd have declared themselves by now. The people in these cases need publicity."

  "Do you have a theory, then?"

  Diamond stifled a yawn. "Lieutenant I'm jetlagged. It's all I can do to stay awake. I'll say this much: whatever we're dealing with, it's high risk and mere's big money be
hind it But why a small, handicapped girl should be mixed up in it is a mystery to me."

  "For a ransom?"

  "The parents would have to be very rich."

  "Japanese industrialists?"

  "Surely they'd have reported by now that their daughter is missing. You've been in touch with the Japanese police. Did they say anything about a tycoon whose child has been taken away?"

  "No," said Eastland. "But you and I know that kidnappings don't get reported every time. The parents could be dealing with the kidnappers directly."

  "How does Mrs. Tanaka fit into this theory?" Diamond asked in a tone that betrayed how unimpressed he was "Why was she killed?"

  "She was caught in the middle somehow. Maybe she double-crossed the people who hired her."

  "Do you really believe this?" Diamond asked.

  "Can you think of anything better?"

  He didn't answer, and for a time all that was heard was the car's suspension being tested by the uneven Manhattan street surfaces.

  Finally, Eastland said, "If we could positively identify the kid, we'd stand a better chance."

  "We've been trying to do that ever since she was found, " said Diamond.

  They pulled up outside the hotel and he got out and thanked Eastland for the ride, adding that he might drop bv in the morning.

  He was deeply dispirited, and the prospect of another night in the Firbank did nothing to lift him. It occurred to him when he caught sight of the pay phone in the front hall that he hadn't spoken to Stephanie since leaving London. She wasn't the sort to panic, but she must have wondered why he hadn't been in touch before now. He felt in his pocket for some change, badly wanting to hear Steph's voice, even if she gave him some aggravation.

  Then he made a mental estimate of the time in London About four in the morning.

  Nothing was working for him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  In the morning when he tried phoning Stephanie, his timing was still wrong. After listening to the dial tone until his ear ached, he worked out that it was noon in England and she would be at the Save the Children shop. He went out to breakfast convinced already that this would be another frustrating day. , . . . u

  But when he returned to the Firbank and tried again, she answered, and still the timing was wrong. Even five thousand miles and a time zone away the disapproval in her tone was unmistakable. He was in the doghouse. He didn't make much impression explaining that he'd tried phoning earlier. The legendary Diamond charm was put to the test, and he had to dredge deep. "The reason I'm calling you now—apart from wanting to hear your voice, my love—is to check something you mentioned just before I left, about shoe sizes. Am I right? Is an English seven equal to an eight and a half over here?" .... ,J