Skeleton Hill (27 page)

‘What about the gold?’

‘No one knows. About a thousand kilos are still unaccounted for. Our people dug up the floorboards at the Coach House. They went at the area around the pool with a digger and drills. Nothing else was found.’

‘Lansdown’s a big area.’

‘And full of secrets.’

His food arrived. He unwrapped the knife and fork. ‘Care for a taste?’

‘No, thanks.’ She took a long sip of her spritzer. ‘I saw the picture of Nadia on Points West. She looked happy enough when it was taken.’

‘She’d just escaped from the London vice ring. Bath was a new beginning. This is a lasagne to die for.’

‘I hope not. Has the picture jogged any memories?’

‘Not enough. I’m interested to know if anyone saw her at the re-enactment.’

She looked doubtful. ‘In the cavalry?’

He smiled. ‘These East Europeans are second to none at getting work. No, you’re right. I can’t believe she was taken on by the Sealed Knot within days of arriving here.’

‘It’s unpaid, isn’t it? They dress up and play soldiers for the fun of the thing. What Nadia needed was a paid job.’

He told her about the lab report on the horse rug. She listened keenly and weighed his theory. ‘You think Rupert found a rug belonging to the same horse Nadia came into contact with all those years ago?’

‘Sixteen years. It’s possible.’

‘Theoretically,’ she said in a voice already thinking something else. ‘You said the rug had deteriorated through age, rather than wear and tear?’

‘That’s what they told me.’

‘Isn’t it more likely that it hasn’t been used in many years and was stored in some outbuilding and found by Rupert? He was scavenging for stuff all the time.’

He nodded. ‘That makes sense, too. We can’t dismiss any scenario.’

‘So Ingeborg got out today visiting the horses?’

‘And riding one. She’s at cavalry training as we speak.’ He glanced at some people entering the restaurant, two women in conversation and a bearded man tagging on behind, all of them probably in the forty to fifty age group.

‘Someone special?’ Paloma asked.

‘The dark woman in the blue suit is familiar.’

‘How familiar is that? An old flame?’

‘You did ask. No, I don’t believe I’ve ever spoken to her, but I’ve seen her recently. Can’t think where.’

‘On one of your “wanted” lists?’

He shook his head.

‘She’s attractive . . . for her age,’ Paloma said. ‘I expect she’s on someone’s wanted list.’

‘The guy with the beard?’

‘No, he looks like extra baggage. He’s there on sufferance. Staff, probably. She’s the boss lady.’

‘They don’t look dressed for a night out.’

‘My guess is that they worked late and she’s invited them for a drink.’ She clicked her fingers. ‘I’ve seen her, too, and I know where. At the races. She was the woman in the peacock-coloured hat we saw getting the prize.’

‘Spot on,’ he said. ‘Davina Tipping, daughter of Sir Colin. He told me she owns her own practice as a vet.’

‘And the others work for her, I expect. The bearded guy looks as if he could tell one budgie from another. I’m not sure I’d trust him with a pregnant cow. Davina, on the other hand, looks well capable. She may be able to advise you on the local horse population. I bet she knows where a lot of them are stabled.’

‘I hadn’t thought of asking a vet,’ he said. He liked the suggestion. ‘They’re heading for the bar.’ He pushed his plate aside. He’d eaten most of it. ‘Let’s join them, shall we?’

Paloma gave a resigned smile and followed him. The ‘pleasure’ part of the outing was over.

Davina and her party had taken their drinks to a table near the open hearth in the centre of the room where a genuine log fire blazed.

‘Pardon me for butting in,’ Diamond said, ‘but you’re just the people who can help me. I’m correct, am I not, in saying you’re Davina Tipping, the top vet in Bath? I’m Peter Diamond of Bath CID, and this is my friend Paloma Kean. We watched your filly winning the trophy a week or two ago.’

‘My Stylist,’ Paloma said trying to soften his none-too-subtle interruption. ‘We backed her. These drinks should have been on us.’

Diamond refrained from mentioning he’d backed another horse and not won anything.

‘That’s generous,’ Davina said. ‘I started a tab. I haven’t paid yet.’

‘Peter will see to it,’ Paloma said.

There was a strict rule in Bath nick that pub expenses had to be authorised in advance by Georgina. This would come out of his own pocket.

‘What sort of help are you wanting?’ Davina said. ‘I hope you haven’t got a sick animal under your jacket.’ She introduced her companions. True to expectation, Sally and Wilfred worked in the practice.

Without going into specifics, Diamond said he was currently involved in a case linked to the re-enactments of the Battle of Lansdown and trying to get information on a horse that could have taken part in the 1993 event and might still be kept somewhere local.

‘It would be getting on a bit,’ Paloma added. ‘We think about twenty.’

‘Is that too old?’ Diamond asked.

‘Horses, like people, live longer these days,’ Davina told them. ‘Twenty isn’t unusual. You can get insurance up to twenty-five and some breeds, like Morgans, live well into their thirties.’

‘I expect they need more treatment as they get older,’ he said. ‘As a vet, you may know of an elderly horse like this.’

‘What colour?’

‘Black or dark brown.’

She smiled. ‘Any other markings?’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ he said. ‘We’ve only got a few hairs as evidence. If it’s any help, they were found on a burgundy coloured under-rug made by a firm called Phil Drake.’

‘That’s going back some,’ Davina said. ‘I haven’t heard of Phil Drake equipment for years. Where was this rug found?’

‘In the entrance gate to Beckford’s Tower, being used by a man sleeping rough. Where he found it is a mystery.’

‘Out of a stable, I expect,’ she said. ‘There are more than you might think on Lansdown and I know of two that supply horses for these battle events.’

‘I expect this old warhorse would be retired.’

‘Not necessarily. You wouldn’t want young or highly strung animals taking part, so older ones are preferred because they aren’t troubled by the gunfire and drums. A mock battle isn’t demanding on agility, a few short gallops, that’s all. It doesn’t compare with steeplechasing or showjumping.’ She spoke with the calm authority that comes with giving expert advice.

‘That’s so helpful to know,’ he said, his ideas moving on. ‘Puts a whole new slant on the case. Would you mind giving me the addresses of those stables?’

‘Not a problem. I’ll write them down if we can find a pen and paper. You should speak to the Sealed Knot people. They know more than I do.’

‘One of my team is with them tonight.’ He took a pen and notebook from his pocket and handed them to Davina. ‘While you’re doing that I’ll get more drinks. Same again, everyone?’

It was a cheap round. Sally and Wilfred said they were leaving for home shortly and Davina had promised to meet her father at the golf club.

Whilst waiting to settle his bill, Diamond found himself thinking about Sir Colin Tipping and things he had said that morning at the golf club when they rode in the cart ahead of Major Swithin. Some part of the conversation was niggling at his brain and he couldn’t grasp the relevance.

‘Are you a vet, sir?’ the barman asked.

‘God, no.’ He was still struggling to remember.

‘My mistake. Saw you with the others.’

‘No problem. I’m sure you get all sorts up here: golfers, race-goers, ramblers.’

‘The world and his wife, sir.’

Then the connection was made. He realised what he’d missed when scrolling through Ingeborg’s calendar of events. Now it was vital that he spoke to Davina’s father.

He was about to impose even more on Davina’s good nature – and Paloma’s. The opportunity had to be seized. The chance of an off-the-record chat with Sir Colin was too good to miss.

‘I don’t know if you’ll get any sense out of him,’ Davina said when he told her what he wanted. ‘He’ll have sunk a few whiskies by now. My job on a Friday night is to get him home.’

All the better if the whisky is talking, Diamond thought.

32

‘N
ot the evening you expected, was it?’ he said to Paloma as they walked to their cars.

‘I had my suspicions, if you remember,’ she said.

‘And you were right.’

She smiled. ‘I’m going to leave you with your horsey friends. You’ll do better on your own at this stage – unless you want me to call reinforcements.’

‘Send for the cavalry?’ He grinned. ‘I don’t think.’

They embraced and he promised to make it up to her.

In the car, he picked up his disregarded mobile phone and gazed at it in his palm. What was the hour now? If he knew which buttons to press, the thing could tell him. No doubt it could supply the latest cricket scores and the state of the pound against the dollar. All he used it for was to make the occasional phone call. Ingeborg was about to rue the day she had set up the menu for him and put her own number in the directory. Wherever she was, he reasoned, she should be capable of answering. Her evening training session would be well over.

‘Inge? It’s me – Diamond.’

‘I know, guv. You’re on my display.’

He had no desire to be on anyone’s display.

‘I can always tell who’s calling,’ she said.

‘Right, and it’s late.’

‘Must be important, I guess.’

He could hear a background buzz of voices and canned music. ‘Are you in company?’

‘Sure. Guess who I met at the drill.’

He didn’t have time for guessing games. ‘I was looking at that list of events on Lansdown, the one you compiled for Keith.’

‘Not only for him,’ she said. ‘It’s for everyone to use.’

‘Do you happen to remember working on July to August, 1993, the time we know for certain Nadia was in Bath?’

‘Now you’re asking. I just plodded through the years. At the time I didn’t know 1993 or any other year was important. I simply went through the
Bath Chronicle
jotting down anything I found.’

‘Mainly headlines?’

‘They were only meant to be a quick reference.’

‘Fine – like the re-enactment, which is on the list, both days, among lots of other stuff.’

‘Don’t ask me, guv. It’s a blur now.’ Her tone of voice told him she was having a good time and wanted to be shot of this call.

‘But I am asking. On one of the days, not long after the battle, you made a note that went “Hang-glider stolen”.’

‘Did I?’

She wasn’t usually this vague. He could picture her shrugging and smiling at her friends in the bar. ‘Are you listening, Inge? What I need to know – and it’s important – is if you meant a hang-glider as such, or the racehorse with the same name? At some point – and it could have been 1993 – a young stallion called Hang-glider belonging to Sir Colin Tipping was driven away and never seen again – like Shergar.’

‘Like what?’

‘Never mind.’ The kidnapping of Shergar must have happened before she was born. ‘A hang-glider or a horse?’

‘You’ve got me there,’ she said. ‘The horse that went missing made big news for some days, but offhand I couldn’t tell you its name or which year it was. I can check and call you back.’

‘There isn’t time. I’ll be with Tipping directly.’

‘Put it this way, guv. I have mental pictures of most of these incidents, but I can’t remember anyone nicking a hang-glider. I’m ninety per cent sure it must be the horse.’

‘I’ll go with that,’ he said.

He had to. Davina was getting into a sports car close by. The roar of her engine rattled the keys in Diamond’s car. He threw down the phone, started up and followed her the short distance up the road to the front of the club house.

‘I can’t say what state Fa will be in,’ she called as they both got out of their vehicles. ‘It’s my job to collect him so that he isn’t breathalysed. He used to collect me from parties when I was a kid, so I suppose I owe him this. Are you coming in?’

‘I’d rather see him apart from his friends when he comes out.’

‘Give me time to root him out, then.’

The notion of the golf club members being collected like kids after a party amused him, particularly when he saw two other women drive up and go inside. A couple of taxis were waiting as well.

Then a group of four emerged from the club house in loud conversation and he saw that Davina had accomplished her mission. Sir Colin looked reasonably steady on his feet. The others were Major Reggie Swithin and his wife, Agnes, the redoubtable woman Diamond had met at the pike drill. The noise was coming mainly from the major. ‘The night is young and I know of several excellent hostelries in the city,’ he was saying. ‘Where’s your spirit of adventure?’

‘You’ve had all the spirit you’re getting,’ his wife told him. ‘Come along, Reggie. Time to go home.’

There were more protests, but it became obvious that Agnes would get her way. She steered the major to their Land Rover, leaving Sir Colin and Davina in conversation near the entrance. Sir Colin looked across the car roofs to where Diamond was waiting. It didn’t take detective work to deduce what was being said.

Diamond went over. ‘Just happened to meet Davina in the Blathwayt,’ he said. ‘She mentioned she was driving you home and there was something I forgot to ask when we spoke before.’

‘My daughter’s hand in marriage?’ Sir Colin said, straight into his music hall routine. ‘So what are your prospects, young man?’

‘Fa, that’ll do,’ Davina said. ‘Mr Diamond doesn’t have time for fun and games.’

‘I don’t know about the “Mr”. He’s not what you take him for.’ ‘It’s all right. He told me he’s a policeman.’

‘Policeman, be blowed. He’s the genie of the golf course. You never know when he’s going to appear, but instead of granting your wishes he asks questions.’

‘Fa, that’s his job.’

‘Don’t I know it? He put me through the third degree the other day and ruined my chance of a decent round. Well, superintendent, what did you forget to ask?’

‘You told me about the horse that went missing.’

‘Hang-glider. Don’t remind me. I get tearful.’

‘Was that in August, 1993?’

‘You’re asking me for details like that at this end of the evening? Really, I can’t recall.’

Davina said, ‘It was definitely 1993, the year you met the Queen at Ascot, her fortieth since the Coronation.’

‘You’re right. He’d just won the Prince of Wales’s Stakes. What a win that was.’

‘Tragically his last,’ Davina said to Diamond. ‘His trainer noticed a slight limp in the near foreleg and felt some heat below the knee. Ultrasound revealed an injury to the tendon and Fa had to retire him, just when he was ready to take on the world. We were all devastated. Which was when Sheikh Abdul made his offer. Talk about genies. We thought Fa’s magic moment had come, but it wasn’t to be.’

‘May I ask what the offer amounted to?’

‘It’s on public record,’ she said. ‘Half a million up front and fifty per cent of the stud fees. He was expected to cover more than a hundred mares in a season at a stud fee of fifty thou a time.’

‘So the money would continue to flow in?’

‘For as long as the horse did the business,’ Tipping said. ‘I reckon he was good for five to ten years. Compared to that, the insurance payout was a pittance, under a hundred thou, and I had to wait three years and get my solicitor onto them before they paid up.’

‘I suppose they needed to be sure he was dead,’ Diamond said.

‘No, that wasn’t the issue.’

‘What was he insured against?’

‘Accident, foul play or death. The claim was foul play. Bloody obvious when the horse had vanished.’

Diamond came to the point. ‘The reason I asked about the date is that 1993 appears to have been the year that the young woman whose murder I’m investigating was buried on Lansdown. There was a horse hair found with her skeleton and it’s just possible it came from your horse.’

‘Good Lord! What makes you think that?’

‘I said it’s a possibility. Did you employ a girl to groom the horse?’

‘Personally, no. You’d have to ask my trainer, Percy McDart, at Lambourn. He looked after all that. He’s still in business there.’

‘Lambourn? Is that where the horse was stabled?’ This was not what he wanted to hear. He knew of Lambourn, one of the centres of racehorse training, at least forty miles off, the other side of Swindon. ‘I was thinking Hang-glider was trained locally.’

‘Well, you’d be wrong. Any half-decent horse is kept at Lambourn, Highclere or Newmarket.’

‘I’ll contact McDart. We’d like to check Hang-glider’s DNA.’

‘How can you do that when he’s not been seen since 1993?’ Davina asked. ‘They didn’t keep DNA records then.’

‘If anything was kept as a souvenir – let’s say a saddle, or a rug – we might get hairs or skin particles, from it. Do you possess anything like that, Sir Colin?’

Tipping shook his head. ‘All I have are photographs and race-cards and a fat file of correspondence from the damned insurance company. You’re welcome to see those any time.’

‘And some silver cups in the trophy cabinet,’ Davina said. ‘You still have those, Fa.’

‘That’s true, but they won’t help the police. They get polished regularly.’

‘His rug?’ Diamond tried again.

‘I collected cheques and trophies, not horse rugs. You’ll have to ask McDart.’

‘And did you ever hear from the people who stole the horse?’ ‘Not a word. They didn’t demand a ransom and they couldn’t race him. I believe I told you my theory.’

‘That he was secretly put to stud?’

Davina said, ‘I don’t believe that one.’

‘He’d have produced damned good foals,’ her father said.

‘Not necessarily. There are no guarantees in horse-breeding. Many great stallions and mares have produced only moderate offspring. You know the saying: breed the best to the best and hope for the best.’

‘Sheikh Abdul thought he was a good investment and so did the blighters who took him.’

‘But if the matings were done secretly the foals would have no pedigree.’

‘Doesn’t matter. When you know something and other people don’t, there’s money to be made.’

‘Not enough,’ she said.

‘What’s your theory, then, Miss Wisenheimer?’ Tipping asked.

‘I’ve never said this to you before, Fa, but if you really want to know, I think it was done from personal spite. Someone heard you were about to cash in and they chose that moment to bring you down.’

He looked quite shaken. ‘I’m not one to make enemies. I’ve always treated people decently in business and in everyday life.’

‘You don’t know the effect you have on others. Ask Mr Diamond.’

For one awkward moment Diamond thought he was being invited to say what a boring old fart the man was, but Davina went on to say, ‘Isn’t jealousy one of the main motives for crime?’

‘It’s one to consider, yes,’ Diamond said. ‘If you’re right, what do you think happened to the horse?’

She gave him a glance that made him wish he hadn’t asked. ‘I’d rather not say. He was my father’s pride and joy.’