The Tooth Tattoo(64)

Ingeborg had checked with the university music department and found that the Staccati would be in rehearsal at the Michael Tippett Centre the same afternoon.

‘Perfect,’ Diamond said.

‘They may not welcome it,’ she said. ‘They’ve got one of their soirées tomorrow night. This could be their last rehearsal.’

‘They can do overtime. We have to.’

‘Musicians can be temperamental,’

‘So can I. Haven’t you noticed?’ He gave the matter more thought. ‘Let them know we’re coming and it shouldn’t take long. A concert tomorrow night, you said? Where are they playing?’

‘Corsham Court.’

‘I’m thinking I should hear this lot.’

Ingeborg didn’t comment. She had an inkling of what he would say next.

As if he’d just thought of it, he said, ‘Care to come with me?’

‘Well … ‘ she started to say.

‘Good, I’ll need someone to stop me from clapping at the wrong point. I’d prefer you to John Leaman if you can make it.’

‘John knows far more about classical music.’

‘But you’re better company. Have you got a little black dress? This sounds like a smart occasion.’

Ingeborg didn’t pursue the matter of the little black dress. She thought she had another escape route. ‘I heard these concerts are hard to get into. There’s a long waiting list.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll get Georgina to pull some strings. She moves in high circles.’

‘Perhaps she’d like to partner you.’

‘Get outta here.’


The team descended on the Michael Tippett Centre early the same afternoon. They commandeered four practice rooms for interviews before any of the musicians showed up. As a result they were able to separate the quartet as they arrived. A united front might have been difficult to deal with.

Anthony Metcalf was the first. A glaze came over his eyes and he allowed himself to be escorted into a side room by Leaman. As a result, Ingeborg was able to inform Mel Farran when he showed up that interviewing was already under way.

She’d met Mel on her previous visit here. Knowing who she was, he should have been calm, if not relaxed. So it came as a surprise when he appeared startled and on the verge of panic, clutching his violin case to his chest as if Ingeborg was about to snatch it away.

‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘You’re not in any kind of trouble. We’re looking for help with an ongoing enquiry.’

Still twitchy, he allowed himself to be shown into the woodwind room.

Ivan Bogdanov was difficult in another way. ‘It’s out of the question,’ he told Halliwell. ‘We have a performance tomorrow and we need to practise.’

‘The sooner we get through, the more time you’ll have,’ Halliwell said.

‘And if I refuse?’

‘I arrest you and do it at the police station, ask to see your work permit and proof of identity, take your fingerprints and DNA.’

This put a swift end to Ivan’s protest.

Diamond was left to meet Cat Kinsella when she appeared, short of breath, grasping her cello. ‘Sorry, young man,’ she told him as he brandished his ID. ‘No autographs now. I’m late for rehearsal.’

He told her what he was there for. Shaking her head, she allowed him to escort her to the remaining practice room. Once she had rested her cello case against the wall and perched herself precariously on a stool behind a drum kit, Diamond drew up another stool and showed her a picture of Mari.

‘Ever seen this young woman before?’

She shook her head.

‘She’s a major fan. We think she came to Bath specially to see you.’

‘Not me, detective. One of the guys, possibly, but not me. I don’t have female fans, nor male, now I think about it. I’m past all that.’

‘The passions are on their side. You’d only find out if they threw themselves at you.’

She chuckled at that. ‘Get real. I’m a cellist. I don’t strut about the stage in skimpy underwear and sequins.’

‘But you won’t deny there are classical music groupies out there who follow the quartets?’

‘There may be a few crazies. Is that really what she was? She looks normal enough in the picture.’

‘She could have had a crush on one of you.’

‘You’d better find out from the men.’

‘We’re doing that right now. Have you ever performed in Yokohama?’

‘Never.’

‘Anywhere else in Japan?’

‘Tokyo a few times.’ Her face softened as she thought back. ‘There’s a place called Katsushika Symphony Hills. I remember it because of the Kat bit. Huge. Two halls, one seating over a thousand and the other three hundred. In my innocence I thought they’d booked the small hall for us. I was wrong. Every seat was taken in the thousand-seater, including one in the front row occupied by an urn containing the ashes of a man who’d booked to see us but died a few days before.’