‘Douglas Christmas,’ Halliwell said.
‘Yes, he’s part of it. He may have an office in London, but he makes the key decisions and I wouldn’t mind betting he turns up for the foreign gigs.’
From across the room someone had started humming a tune.
‘Who’s that?’ Diamond said.
Silence shut everything down like a power cut.
‘Come on,’ Diamond said. ‘Share it with us.’
Everyone in the team knew it was best to come clean when the boss was in this sort of mood. The junior member, Paul Gilbert, cleared his throat and started up again with a halfhearted rendering of the old Band Aid number, ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas?’
‘That’s more than enough,’ Diamond said, flapping his hand. ‘You must be older than you look. I was a mere youth when that came out. If that’s your take on my comments, DC Gilbert, you’d better investigate Mr. Christmas. Make him your specialist study. Get his background, how he took on the quartet and where he was at the time of these two murders. With your investigative skills we can look forward to finding out if it really is Christmas.’
Gilbert had got off lightly. Humour can be the saving grace of something as grim as a murder investigation, but it has to be well timed. He’d picked the wrong moment.
The evening soirée at Corsham Court had taken on an added importance, a chance to see the four main suspects in performance. Ingeborg collected Diamond from his home in Weston and watched him wedge himself into her Ka.
‘You’re looking different, Sergeant Smith,’ he said when he’d got the belt across his middle.
‘Is that meant as a compliment?’ She’d fastened the blonde hair high on her head with two glittery combs and was in a burgundy-coloured suit.
‘Statement of fact.’
‘Now come on,’ she said, laughing. ‘If we’re supposed to appear like a couple enjoying an evening of culture, you’d better start acting the full gent. It’s a posh do, this one.’
‘Okay, you look like the Queen of Sheba. How’s that?’
‘Better.’
‘Better? It’s spot on. It’s a musical reference, in case you didn’t know. What do you think of my get-up?’ he asked.
‘Not very different.’
‘It’s the best I’ve got. Will it pass?’
‘It passed a good ten years ago. If you want a musical equivalent, it’s the “Dead March” from Saul. Are we quits?’
‘But this is my best tie.’
‘I’d call that the Pathétique.’
‘You win,’ he said. ‘Don’t know enough to compete. Seriously, am I dressed right for a soirée?’
‘You’ll get by, guv – just about.’
‘Good enough.’
‘If we sit at the back.’
‘I didn’t get a lot of time for thinking about my wardrobe. I was still at the office at six, on the line to Vienna.’
‘Any joy?’
‘They promised full cooperation. This was the police I’m speaking of. They regarded the case as closed, but they’re willing to send over everything they have on file. And the Austrian embassy are going to look at their records.’
‘It’s worth pursuing,’ Ingeborg said. ‘Too close to our case to be a coincidence.’
‘I just wish I’d cottoned on before this.’ He checked for the crease in his trousers and found two. Should have been more careful before hanging the suit last time he put it away. ‘Is there much socialising at these things?’
‘I couldn’t tell you. I haven’t been to one.’
‘There’s got to be some. You do the chat and I’ll drink the bubbly and watch the action.’
Corsham Court, off the A4 to Chippenham, is a grandiose hotchpotch of English architecture, originally Elizabethan and home over the centuries to the elite of Wiltshire families, the Hungerfords, the Thynnes and the Methuens. They all brought in builders, with mixed results. Even the illustrious Capability Brown had a go. As well as landscaping the grounds and extending the building he converted the East Wing into a magnificent picture gallery, and this was the setting for the Staccati concert.
The guests were assembling in the anteroom, where it soon became obvious that most of them knew each other. Diamond spotted several who could be numbered among the great and the good of Bath society.
‘Forgot to wear my chain of office,’ he muttered to Ingeborg as they faced each other on the fringe of the gathering.
‘What’s that, linked handcuffs?’
‘Where are the musicians?’
‘They’ll be tuning up. Can’t expect them to circulate.’ She froze.