The Tooth Tattoo (23 page)

‘We wanted a residency, a chance for the new combination to gel. Being in one place is so much better than touring when you’re adjusting to a new member. From what I recall, Doug got on the phone and found out quickly that Bath Spa University were looking for some kind of professional ensemble to teach and play. We agreed the same afternoon.’

‘How is it working out?’

‘Wonderfully, apart from you lot giving us the third degree.’

‘I wouldn’t call it that,’ Diamond said.

‘You’re not on the receiving end.’

‘These concerts you give. They’re small by your standards, aren’t they?

‘Intimate. They’re lovely. That’s how quartets were played originally, for small, invited audiences in gracious surroundings.’

‘I’m hoping to attend your next one.’

‘Really? You don’t strike me as a string quartet aficionado.’

He smiled. ‘I don’t claim to be that.’

‘I hope you don’t suffer, then.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Is the grilling over now?’

‘Not yet,’ Diamond said. ‘You said there are lots of viola jokes. I can’t think of one.’

She tilted her head back. ‘If I tell you one, am I released without charge?’

‘Only if it’s a good one.’

‘All right. This man walked into a bank carrying a viola case. Why did everyone get nervous?’

‘They thought it was a machine gun?’

‘No. They thought it was a viola and he might take it out and play it.’

‘M
ine wasn’t much help.’

‘Mine was an obstacle race, and I don’t think I won.’

‘Mine was a waste of time.’

‘Snap out of it, guys,’ Diamond said. ‘You’re supposed to be professionals.’

Leaman shrugged. ‘He refused to talk about anything except the music they’re rehearsing.’

‘This was Anthony Metcalf, the second violin?’

‘I’d get more sense from a talking clock.’

The debrief was taking place in a quiet corner of the senior common room at the Michael Tippett Centre. The team had helped themselves to instant coffee from a jar marked
staff only
. In one of the practice rooms nearby, the quartet had begun their delayed rehearsal

‘Anthony thinks of little else except music,’ Diamond said. ‘I heard that from Cat Kinsella, who was good company once she got warmed up. Even told me a joke.’ He put up his hand. ‘Later. Did any of you get a reaction when you showed the picture of Mari?’

Leaman and Halliwell shook their heads.

Ingeborg said, ‘Mel Farran reacted. He actually calmed down quite a lot when he saw it. Before that he was a different bunny from the one I met here before.’

‘Different in what way?’

‘Tense. He sat clutching his instrument case across his knees like a barrier. I’ve seen women hold their handbags like that. It’s unusual in a man.’

‘Not many blokes have handbags,’ Leaman said.

She looked at him as if he was something she’d trodden in. ‘I don’t know what Mel thought I was going to ask, but I got the impression it wasn’t about Mari.’

‘Does he have form?’

‘No, I ran a check. He’s clean.’

‘So what did he say when you gave him a sight of the picture?’

Ingeborg’s eyes rolled upwards. ‘Said he never forgets a pretty face. Then he smirked a bit. He sees himself as God’s gift to women.’

‘You’ve changed your tune,’ Leaman said. ‘He was nice-looking and friendly when we last spoke.’

‘He’s still nice looking and friendly – and he still thinks he’s God’s gift.’

‘So not one of them appears to have met the victim,’ Diamond said.

‘Mel did admit Mari could easily have been in the audience at one of the concerts and he wouldn’t have known.’

Diamond aired the small piece of expertise he’d learned from Cat. ‘Because they have a light on the music stand and they can’t see anything over it?’

‘No. Because they concentrate on the music.’

He tore open three strips of sugar for his coffee. ‘Disappointing, then. No apparent link to our victim. It’s only our assumption that she came here to listen to her favourite string quartet.’

‘I can’t be entirely sure how much Anthony knows, or how little,’ Leaman said, and for once he wasn’t trying to score points. ‘I showed him the picture and he hardly gave it a glance. Wasn’t interested.’

‘Did you ask him the question?’

‘Had he met her? He said he was a musician – as if that said it all.’

‘In his case, it probably does,’ Diamond said. ‘He has some form of autism. People don’t interest him.’

Ingeborg took a sharp breath. ‘So it’s entirely possible Mari spoke to Anthony and he paid no attention.’

Halliwell was some way ahead of her. ‘And he killed her and dumped her in the river and blanked it from his mind.’

‘I find that impossible to believe,’ Ingeborg said. ‘Anyway, why would he do such a thing if he’s only interested in music?’

Halliwell turned up his palms to show it was mainly guesswork. ‘Mari became a nuisance, got in his way.’

‘How?’

‘She was a groupie, like we said.’

‘I get you now.’ She nodded. ‘He’s the poster-boy, the one most likely to have attracted women.’

‘Okay,’ Diamond said. ‘I’d better have a try with Anthony.’

‘You won’t get anywhere,’ Leaman said, blunt, if not actually insubordinate.

Diamond carried on as if no one had spoken. ‘I’m not sure if he really can’t recall things, or if he just doesn’t want to talk about it.’

‘Using the autism as a get-out?’ Halliwell said.

‘That’s got to be considered.’

‘I said you’re on a loser,’ Leaman said

‘I expect you’re right, John, but I’m having a go.’ He turned to Halliwell. ‘You said Ivan Bogdanov was an obstacle course. What did you mean by that?’

‘Treated me as if I was the KGB. Kept talking about his rights and what a waste of his precious time it was and how we ought to be hunting the real killer instead of persecuting innocent musicians.’

Leaman smirked. ‘You mean he didn’t melt under the Halliwell charm?’

‘You slay me.’

Diamond asked, ‘Did he respond at all when you showed Mari’s picture?’

‘Claimed he hadn’t seen her. I asked him if the fans ever became a problem and he took the line that people who appreciate good music keep their distance. If he’s hiding anything, he’s well defended.’

‘Ivan is a chess player. I got that from Cat. She respects
him. In fact, she spoke well of all of them. Sees herself as the mother hen. She wants the quartet to succeed.’

‘They all want that,’ Ingeborg said. ‘They’ve got a name, a reputation, a cosy little number here in Bath. It’s in their interest to stay together now they’ve got a good viola player. They’ll cover up for each other, I’m sure of that.’

‘The question is,’ Diamond said, plucking at the lobe of his ear, ‘do they have anything to cover up?’

The practice went on for almost two hours before the quartet took a break. When the door of the rehearsal room opened, Diamond was waiting outside. The rest of the CID team had already left for the police station.

Cat emerged at speed and made a beeline for the ladies’ room. Her reaction to Diamond was to raise both hands. ‘Not now.’ Over her shoulder, she added, ‘Talk about groupies. You’re one of them.’

Diamond stepped into the rehearsal room.

Ivan looked up, but not to welcome the visitor. ‘You people have a damn nerve. What is it now? We’re in the middle of a practice.’

‘A few words with Anthony during your break won’t hold you up.’

‘Anthony’s already answered questions.’

‘Not from me.’

‘He’s within his rights to refuse.’

‘If you want to talk about rights, we can take up all of the break before I even start to question him.’

‘Intolerable.’ Ivan looked across the room to where Anthony was studying the score, apparently oblivious of what was being discussed. ‘This policeman wants more time with you. Can you spare him a couple of minutes?’

Diamond said, ‘He’ll spare me as long as it takes.’ He curled his finger at Anthony, turned and left the room, confident that he would follow.

And he did, entering the percussion room and seating himself on the stool behind the drum set.

Diamond looked the young man up and down and understood Ingeborg’s remark about the dark good looks. The high, narrow cheekbones and finely shaped mouth were likely to appeal to any woman, however stone-faced Anthony appeared. The unattainable has a strong sexual attraction. A confident woman would expect him to respond to the right signals.

A burly male detective had no such optimism. Getting any kind of response would be a challenge. But there was one thing that might work in Diamond’s favour. People with autism generally speak the truth if they say anything at all. They are honest to the point of rudeness.

Start on safe ground, he decided. Get the man talking about what he knows best. ‘How’s the practice going?’

‘Okay.’

Better than no answer at all. ‘Preparing for tomorrow’s concert, are you?’

This time Anthony settled for a nod.

‘Beethoven, wasn’t it?’ Diamond ventured.

Anthony was supposed to get the idea that Diamond was a fellow lover of music. He didn’t show a glimmer of appreciation.

‘I couldn’t place the piece,’ Diamond added, which was true. He was about as capable of placing a piece of Beethoven as he was of riding a Derby winner. ‘Do you mind telling me what it was?’

‘Opus 59, Number 3,’ Anthony said.

‘Silly me. I’m a duffer with numbers.’

‘In C major.’

‘C major.’ Diamond raised his thumb as if all had been made clear. ‘Any particular part?’

‘The fugue.’

‘And to me it sounded just as a fugue should.’

‘It was too fast.’

‘A shade quick, I’ll give you.’

Hearing this, Anthony with his care for the truth must have assumed he was in the company of a connoisseur. ‘You’re right about that. Beethoven’s tempo instruction is just about
impossible.’ Now he wanted to discuss the playing of the fugue, which would be a minefield for Diamond.

‘I didn’t appreciate that,’ Diamond said, ‘about the tempo instruction.’

‘It’s a metronome mark.’

‘Does that make a difference?’

‘The metronome wasn’t invented when the piece was written.’

This was information any self-respecting detective could work on. ‘Beethoven added his note at some later date?’

Anthony nodded. ‘Much later, when he was stone deaf.’

‘So you think he got it wrong?’

‘It’s meant to be quick and energetic, but – ’

‘Not so quick as you played it?’

Anthony made a fist and held it up in solidarity with Diamond. ‘You’re right. Something is lost at the tempo he gives. I keep telling Ivan to slow up a touch. The music is without fault. It can take it. He won’t listen. He’s implacable. He treats the score as gospel.’

‘Don’t the others have something to say about it?’

Anthony shook his head.

‘Maybe they don’t want to make an issue of it,’ Diamond suggested. ‘Cat is all for peace and harmony and Mel is too new to the quartet to take a stand.’

From Anthony’s wide-eyed look this was an insight he had missed. ‘Do you play?’

Diamond shook his head. ‘Too busy with other things, unfortunately.’

‘But you know Beethoven.’

‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

‘You can speak to Ivan, tell him you were listening to us and it was too quick.’

‘Me? He wouldn’t take advice from me.’

‘For all he knows, you could be one of our audience.’

‘With luck, I will be tomorrow night, but I’m in no position to tell a man of his experience how to play.’ He was fast running out of musical conversation, but he knew it was the only way to make progress with Anthony. ‘Is there an interval?’

Anthony frowned. ‘It’s full of intervals.’

‘Not the music. I mean a break during the concert for people to walk about.’

‘That will be too late.’

‘I’m not planning to speak to Ivan. I was wondering what comes after.’

‘After the interval? Some solo pieces.’

‘From you?’

Anthony shook his head. ‘The others.’

‘All three?’

‘All three instruments. Violin, viola and cello.’

‘Nice. I can’t wait. But what about you? I heard you’re a brilliant violinist. Don’t you give solos?’

The lips tightened.

‘Sorry I asked,’ Diamond said. ‘You’re more of a team player?’

No response. After going so well, this had hit the buffers.

‘Do you happen to remember what music you played in the first few concerts the quartet gave?’

‘Yes.’

Anthony’s precise responses came with the mental condition. They could be a barrier to progress when you expected more. ‘I’d like to be told,’ Diamond said.

‘Beethoven Opus 131, Quartet Number 14 in C sharp minor. Schubert Number 14 in D minor. Haydn Opus 74, Number 3 in G minor. Shall I continue?’

‘Wonderful, but no need. And do you also recall where you played?’

Anthony frowned. ‘No.’

‘I heard you go to some splendid houses, perfect for chamber music.’

‘I’ve forgotten.’ The gracious drawing rooms of Somerset and Avon, their Baroque splendour enhanced by candlelight, had already been deleted from this young man’s discriminating memory. Only the music counted for anything.

‘They don’t make an impression?’

‘I’m not there for the architecture. You can ask one of the others.’

‘But you remember every note of the music? Am I right?’

‘Not every note. We have the score in front of us.’

‘And how was your playing received?’

‘All right.’

‘Would you happen to remember if one of the audience spoke to you afterwards about your playing?’

‘Depends.’

‘On what?’

‘What they had to say. If it was only praise I wouldn’t bother. We get a lot of that.’

‘I’m sure it’s all well meant,’ Diamond said. ‘Is there anything you would remember?’

‘Intelligent remarks.’

‘Intelligent remarks about what?’

‘The music.’

One relentless track.

Diamond took a deep breath and tried again. ‘Such as?’

‘Such as the stress we give to the fourth note in the opening of the Beethoven Opus 131, Number 14. Ivan is the player, not me, and it’s a signature moment that sets the tone for all that follows. It can sound disruptive, the transition from G sharp to A. They’re separated by a full bar. He draws it upwards a fraction on the G and then slips back to the same pitch after leaving the A.’