The Tooth Tattoo(125)

Ingeborg nodded and ran a hand through her blonde hair. The session had obviously been stressful.

‘Anything I should be told?’

She shook her head.

Then Keith Halliwell came down the stairs followed by Mel.

‘We could murder a coffee,’ he said.

‘They did it!’ Cat said at once. ‘Take them down to the nick and throw the book at them.’

‘Do you want one?’ Halliwell asked Ingeborg.

She shook her head. ‘Why do you think I picked the kitchen for my interviewing?’

Diamond said, ‘The last two statements shouldn’t take long.’

Ivan said, ‘After that, are we free to go?’

‘I’ll need you all to read them through and sign them, but that can be done at the end of this afternoon’s recording.’

There were smiles of relief from three of the musicians. Even Anthony managed a nod.





29





‘What’s the boss up to now, letting them record their party piece?’ Ingeborg asked on the drive to Newton Park.

‘Don’t ask me,’ Halliwell said. ‘We had all four in that house this morning. We could have pulled them in and got to the truth.’

‘There’s a change in him today. He’s more like he used to be.’

‘Cocksure and pushy?’

‘I was going to say frisky, but I guess it’s much the same.’

‘As if he knows something we don’t.’

‘By the way he’s behaving, anything is possible. Only it could be down to something else,’ Ingeborg said. ‘His love life is looking up. He came in wearing aftershave this morning.’

‘Doesn’t he usually?’

‘Only when he’s seeing Paloma.’

They parked behind the Michael Tippett Centre and zigzagged around clusters of gossiping students on their lunch-break towards the two digital recording studios. Diamond was waiting outside, still unmistakably frisky. ‘Don’t look so hard done by,’ he said. ‘I’ve asked and this lasts only sixteen minutes.’

‘For one take,’ Halliwell said. ‘They’re never satisfied with one.’

Diamond hadn’t thought of that. ‘Today, they have to be.’

‘Have they all turned up?’ Ingeborg asked.

He nodded. ‘And so has Douglas Christmas.’

‘I’d almost forgotten him.’

‘He’s in there already. Shall we join him?’

Extra seats had been placed at the rear of the narrow control room. The technical team were already manning the digital audio workstation, headphones on, testing the controls. Through the glass the Staccati were seated in the usual formation, violinists to the left and Mel and Cat right. Deep in concentration, they were fine-tuning, obtaining the A from Ivan and making their own small adjustments. In addition Cat and Mel would compare C strings, a wise check for accuracy allowing that the pitch of the instruments was an octave apart. There was an air of anticipation, that mix of excitement and nerves that is the dynamic of any performance.

Diamond took the chair beside Douglas. ‘Glad you made it here.’

The manager nodded. ‘I support them whenever I can. After all, they’re my breadwinners.’

‘Enjoy your last meal, then.’

Douglas clearly missed the point but registered with a grin that it must be humorous. In fact, he followed with a quip of his own. ‘And what are you chaps doing here – making an arrest?’

Diamond said straight-faced, ‘All in good time.’

‘Are you familiar with the piece?’

‘That would be an overstatement.’

‘I’d better warn you, then. It can be difficult to the untrained ear, even brutal.’

‘Up my street, then.’

Everyone smiled.

‘Ghastly news about Harry,’ Douglas said. ‘A sad end to a fine musician. I’m going to suggest they dedicate this to his memory.’

‘Difficult and brutal?’

Douglas was lost for words. Clearly he wasn’t on Diamond’s wavelength.

The producer touched a switch on the console and spoke through his mic to the artists. ‘How are we doing, folks? Almost ready to go?’

In the studio Ivan turned to the others and got their agreement. He raised his bow towards the window.

‘In your own time, then. We’re running now.’

The players took their cue from Ivan and began.

The overture, as the composer termed it, of the Grosse Fuge, made no concessions. It demanded attention to what amounted to snatches of unrelated music separated by long pauses that would only have relevance as the piece developed. Eventually they would be identified as a kind of running order for what was to come, but perversely Beethoven had turned the whole thing on its head and started with the finale.