Like the bright boy in school, Wigfull supplied the date: 1840.
But Dana Didrikson was too gripped by her story to notice. 'Imagine how I felt when I found two short letters dated as early as 1800, addressed to Mrs James Leigh Perrot, at The Warden's House, Ilchester Gaol, and signed Yr affectionate niece, Jane. I'd struck gold.'
'Did Middlemiss realize their significance?' Diamond asked.
'I'm afraid I didn't tell him.'
'Naughty.'
She took it as a serious rebuke. 'I could never have afforded the price he'd ask. As it was, he wanted thirty pounds for them, and he thought I was just researching my family history. I paid cash and left. Was that dishonest?'
'No, it's fair game,' Diamond commented. 'The first rule of the open market: an object is worth no more and no less than your buyer is willing to pay for it. He was pitting his knowledge against yours. You were smart enough to know it was worth a bit and he didn't. You'd have been a fool to enlighten him. You needn't lose any sleep over it, except that you could probably have knocked him down to twenty-five pounds. They expect you to haggle.'
'I know – but I couldn't have stood the suspense.'
'So you got out fast.'
'And drove home picturing the moment when I would hand them over to Greg.'
'You were still in touch with him at this time?'
Mrs Didrikson hesitated, gripped the edge of the table with both hands and eased back, as if she sensed a trap in the question. 'I'd seen him on several occasions when he took my son swimming.'
'And to the cricket and the balloon festival,' Wigfull prompted her with sledgehammer subtlety.
That did it: frigidly, she remarked, 'You seem to know everything already.'
After an uncomfortable interval, Wigfull attempted to repair the damage. 'What I meant was that Professor Jackman went out of his way to be kind to your son.'
'Well, yes,' she conceded.
'Which gave you even more reason to make him a present of the Jane Austen letters.'
Diamond asked, 'When did you hand them over – the same evening?'
Again she paused before answering. Her fluency had gone and Diamond knew who to blame. 'Not that evening,' she answered eventually. 'A couple of days later.'
'On the eve of the exhibition, I heard,' said Diamond. 'What made you leave it so late?'
More unease showed in the way she grasped at her hair and flicked it off her shoulders. 'I, em… When I got back from Crewkerne, there was, em… an ugly scene with Geraldine Jackman. To my utter amazement, she was in my house, sitting in my living room drinking coffee.'
'Alone?'
'No. What happened was that while Mat was swimming with Greg up at Claverton, somebody phoned the Jackman house from Chawton – that's the cottage in Hampshire set up as a kind of Jane Austen museum – to say that permission had been given for Greg to borrow several extra pieces for his exhibition. Understandably, he was keen to go down to Chawton straight away, so he asked his wife to run Matthew home in her car, which she did. Out of politeness Mat thought he'd better invite Geraldine in for a coffee, and she accepted like a shot, which explains what I walked into. What I cannot explain is the vicious and quite unprovoked attack that woman made on me almost the moment I stepped into my own living room.'
Diamond briefly locked eyes with Wigfull in case he was moved to interrupt again. 'A physical attack?'
'No, I don't mean she hit me, but the force of it was almost physical. This was the first time we'd actually met, you understand. We'd spoken on the phone some weeks before, when she invited me to her party, and she'd sounded quite charming. I couldn't believe this was the same woman. In fact, I didn't know who she was for a moment. She just bombarded me with abuse.'
'What sort of abuse?'
'Do I have to repeat it?'
'Everything you can remember, please.'
Dana Didrikson fingered her hair again and looked down into the coffee mug, speaking in a low voice. 'She began by asking me who I thought I was kidding by driving around in a Mercedes when I was really the town bicycle.'
Wigfull asked, 'The what?'
'For Christ's sake, John,' Diamond rounded on him. 'Carry on, Mrs Didrikson.'
'I was more surprised than offended. I asked who she was and she said she happened to be married to the man I was currently humping. This was in front of my son, a twelve-year-old.' She looked up, her face creased in distress at the memory. 'Can you imagine? I asked him to leave the room. Poor child, he looked blitzed. And before he was through the door she launched into an accusation so twisted in its logic that I couldn't believe she meant it. She said I'd used Matthew as bait, to catch her husband. Having discovered that Greg was childless, I'd dangled Mat in front of him – those were the actual words she used – knowing how much he wanted a son of his own.'
'What did you say to that?'
The truth – that she was talking bloody nonsense and I'd never slept with her husband. Then of course she did her best to justify her crazy notions by bringing up the times I'd invited Greg in for coffee after he'd brought Mat home from the pool. I mean, a coffee and a biscuit in my kitchen isn't grounds for divorce, and I told her so. But in Geraldine's eyes everything was part of this web I'd spun -the swimming, the days out, the drink I'd bought Greg in the Viaduct… someone had seen us, of course. There was no shaking her. In the end I just stopped protesting and let her carry on in the hope she'd get it all out and go. That's what happened. She hadn't come to listen to my point of view. She just wanted to let off steam, and by God, she did. Finally she stormed out.'
'She didn't actually threaten you, or give you some kind of ultimatum?'
'No, it was just a torrent of abuse.'
'How did you feel at the end? Bloody angry, I imagine.'
'Dazed is more like it. Reeling. The first thing I did was talk to Mat and tell him that the woman was obviously unhinged. He apologized for letting her into the house, but she had been perfectly agreeable until I showed my face. That's how it is with that kind of madness. Ninety-nine per cent of the time they seem perfectly sane.'
Diamond nodded.
'Just in case Matthew was tempted to believe any of her crazy claims, I gave him a solemn promise that they were all untrue. We agreed that Greg had a terrible problem with a woman like that on his hands. I told Mat that after what had been said I didn't think he should go swimming with Greg again.'
To Diamond's ear, this struck a note of bathos, but he treated it solemnly. 'How did he take it?'
'Manfully, for a kid of his age. Oh, he couldn't see the sense in it at first. After all, Greg had been like a second father to him through the months of July and August. So it was a wrench. I had to point out that Greg himself would be bound to put a stop to the swimming in view of what Geraldine was saying.'
'Did he see the point then?'
'Yes.'
All of this had given Diamond some vital insights. The incident may not have provided a direct motive for murder, but it had clearly struck deep into Dana Didrikson's psyche. Not only had her moral conduct been under attack; so had her integrity as a mother – and that was enough to goad any woman dangerously. Even this long after the incident, a feral outrage had shown in her eyes and voice as she spoke of Geraldine Jackman.
He steered her back to the main line of inquiry. 'And you had another problem on your hands – the Jane Austen letters.'
'Now do you understand why I didn't hand them over the same evening?'
'But you did eventually.'
'Yes. After a couple of sleepless nights. I thought why should I let that pathetically jealous woman deprive Greg of the satisfaction of owning those precious letters? They were of no use to me, but in his hands they were sure to make a stir in the literary world. They would guarantee the success of his exhibition. After the tremendous risk he'd taken to save my son, I'd have to be an absolute wimp not to face another roasting from Geraldine. So on the Friday evening, the night before the opening, I steeled myself to ca
ll at the house.'
'You could have posted the letters, surely, and avoided seeing Mrs Jackman?' said Wigfull.
'They were too precious to put in the post. Besides, there wasn't time.'
Diamond commented with more understanding, 'And I daresay you wanted to see his reaction when you produced them.'
The corners of her mouth curved, confirming that he was right. 'If I'm honest, yes. I phoned first, to make sure he was going to be there, merely telling him I had something I wanted to give him, and would it be convenient if I came over right away. And I took the opportunity over the phone to thank him again for his kindness to Mat and me, and to make clear that I'd decided that the swimming sessions must come to an end.'
'Did you say why?'
'I think he knew. No doubt Geraldine had told him her suspicions. She wasn't noted for being reticent. Anyway, he didn't press me. And when I got to the house it was Greg who opened the door, much to my relief, of course. And when I showed him the letters in the front room, oh, it was a terrific moment! I was so pleased I'd come. He was over the moon. He made me tell him exactly how I'd tracked them down, every detail. And then a man I didn't know came in, an American.'
'Dr Junker.'
'That was the name. He seemed to be an authority on Jane Austen, and when he saw the letters he was agog with excitement. He was confident that they were in Jane's hand. So when Geraldine Jackman made an entrance a few minutes later, she didn't get the attention she felt was hers by right. She played up like a spoilt child.'
Fascinating as it was to listen to a fresh point of view on an episode that was becoming familiar, Diamond fixed his mind on the facts as he continued to listen, rather than looking for insights into character. Dana Didrikson's account corresponded impressively closely with what Jackman and Junker had said. She had noticed Geraldine's blatant passes at Junker and she repeated that lady's mischievous suggestion that Jackman should show his gratitude by taking her – Dana Didrikson – out for a meal.
'Just for the record, you made no arrangement to visit the house again?'
'Didn't I make that clear?' she said. 'I was ending our association with the Jackmans.'
'And did you?'
'Yes.' She leaned back, fatigue showing in her brown eyes. 'That's it. I've nothing else to tell you.'
Diamond stared at her, uncertain for a moment whether she had spoken out of mischief or defiance. Suddenly he was fazed, mentally unprepared for the show to stop in mid-performance.
'You mean you need a break now?'
'No,' she said. 'That isn't what I mean.'
'Come now, Mrs Didrikson,' he said gently. 'There must be more to come. We know there's more.'
Her eyes may have given a clue that he was right, but she wasn't willing to admit to it. 'Am I under arrest, then?' wasn't willing to admit 'Not up to now.'
'In that case I'd like to leave.'
'In that case,' said Diamond, 'I shall be forced to arrest you.'
'For what?'
'Driving without due care and attention will do.'
'That's absurd.'
'Sorry. You're nicked, Mrs Didrikson.'
'What does that mean?'
'It means we can detain you for twenty-four hours, or thirty-six, if I so decide.'
Her lip quivered. 'But I'm expected at work tomorrow. My boss relies on me to drive him about.'
'He'll have to use a taxi, won't he?' He looked at Wigfull. 'Stop the tape there. We'll need a fresh one shortly.'
Chapter Two
'Before we go back, John…'
'Yes?'
'A word.'
Wigfull, eyebrows arching above that comic-opera moustache, appeared to have no idea what was on Peter Diamond's mind. Leaving Dana Didrikson in the interview room to mull over what she had so far failed to disclose, the two detectives had busied themselves independently for twenty minutes or so, Diamond at his desk, Wigfull at a phone in the incident room. They now faced each other at the top of the stairs.
Diamond came to the point. 'We're at cross-purposes in there. I get her going and you keep chucking spanners in the works.'
'Such as…?'
'You know damned well what I mean.'
'If you have a complaint about me, I'd rather you specified exactly what it is, Mr Diamond.'
How typical of his whole nitpicking approach, Diamond thought in a spasm of anger which he had difficulty in containing. 'It's more fundamental, John. You and I are not on the same wavelength. You're basically hostile to the woman and it shows.'
This was received with a cold stare. 7'm hostile? She did a runner.'
'That doesn't mean we have to come down hard.'
'Great,' muttered Wigfull, plainly implying that this kind of talk from the man who had put Hedley Missendale away didn't cut much ice.
Diamond would not allow himself to be deflected. 'Look, the object is to gei at the truth.'
'Yes, and the truth is that she was besotted with Jackman and murdered his wife.'
To Wigfull, it was all so obvious.
'You could be right, but there's still another dimension to this,' Diamond told him.
'The sob story, you mean?'
'I can't say. There's definitely more to come, if we give her a chance to tell us.'
'In other words, you want me to button my hairy lip.'
The note of self-mockery was a concession, a step back from cold-eyed hostility, and Diamond acknowledged it with a grin. 'The chance of that has gone. She's dug a bloody trench for herself. We've got to move in, but to a purpose. In my judgement, she won't respond to threats.'
'Okay, I said I'll shut up.'
'No, I want you to chip in. I need your command of the details. That's how we'll tackle her, with the truth, testing her story with the facts we know to be true, you and me, John, working as a team.'
This earned a grudging nod from Wigfull, and a sharp enquiry as to what line the questioning was to take.
Diamond was equal to it. They would begin by suggesting to Dana Didrikson that she had been at the Jackman house on the day of the murder. Whatever her response, they would commit her to an account of her movements on that Monday. Only when they had got a full picture of her day would they probe her motives or point out inconsistencies. It was the structured interview so beloved of training school instructors, and Wigfull couldn't fault it. Diamond added, to bring a human dimension to the exchange, that all this would be at great personal cost, because his wife Stephanie was using the late nights as ammunition in her campaign to have her kitchen modernized. She was serving him burnt offerings nightly.
'You should get her a microwave oven,' Wigfull advised him.
'I don't trust them.'
'They're part of the new technology. I wouldn't be without ours.'
That figures,' said Diamond, prepared to believe that Wigfull's home was indistinguishable from an electricity showroom.
'Maybe you saw me on the phone just now,' Wigfull went on. 'I wasn't calling my wife. I don't, now that we have a microwave.' While Diamond was pondering the cause and effect behind that, Wigfull added casually, but with a note of archness. 'As a matter of fact, I was phoning Mrs Didrikson's employer, Buckle.'
'What for?"
'I told him she wouldn't be in to work tomorrow.'
'Wasn't it a bit late for that?'
'I got him at home.'
'I see.' Slightly put out, but wary, Diamond started walking towards the interview room. 'She'll be grateful, I'm sure.'
Behind him, he heard Wigfull raise his voice to say, 'I didn't do it out of the goodness of my heart, Mr Diamond. I asked him if she reported for duty on Monday, 11 September.'
He wheeled around.
Wigfull was looking as smug as a cat in the best chair. 'And she didn't. Buckle checked his diary. She took the day off. She wasn't at work on the day of the murder.' He spaced the words like an actor in a radio serial rounding off an episode. It demanded a burst of music.
Diamond wasn't moved to supply any.
He merely nodded his head.
'You knew already?' Wigfull piped in disbelief.
Diamond answered in throwaway style, 'The statements are in from the door-to-door lads. I've just been through them. A woman in a black Mercedes was seen turning into the drive of John Brydon House shortly after 11.15.'
It was a much better pay-off.
She had her back to the door when they returned, and the tension was evident in her stance. A slight figure staring out of the window at the lights of Bath, arms crossed in front of her. Diamond was moved to think how little he'd learned of this woman's character in the two or three hours of question and answer. Part of the difficulty was that she'd obviously rehearsed her story in her mind, knowing that sooner or later the police would catch up with her. The smoothness of the performance had given few insights, save for those bursts of waspishness at Wigfull's interruptions towards the end. Admittedly she had projected a strong sense of moral obligation, whether towards her disagreeable son, her dodgy boss or the knight in shining armour, Professor Jackman, but how much of that was window-dressing remained to be discovered. One other pointer Diamond had noted: the still-potent sense of triumph in her account of the quest for the Jane Austen letters – the letters that looked increasingly like the spur to murder.
'Shall we resume?' he said.
'I've nothing else to tell you.' She need not have spoken. He could read the defiance in the set of her shoulders.
He nodded to Wigfull to run another tape and speak the preliminaries. When it was done, he reminded her of the formal caution before saying, 'We've just had some information about you, Mrs Didrikson.'
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