‘Is she into classical music?’
‘Not really. As an ex-journo, she’s done most things.’ He’d skirted around the real reason for his presence here. Paloma seemed so encouraged that he was doing the cultural bit that he didn’t want to disillusion her and admit he was on police business.
‘Invitations to these soirées are hard to come by,’ she said.
‘I got ours through Georgina. She’s well connected.’
‘Through her choral singing? Of course. So did you enjoy the Beethoven?’
‘I’d have enjoyed it more if I hadn’t got pins and needles in my legs. The seats aren’t the most comfortable.’
‘I know what you mean. I wanted to stand up halfway through. I expect they hired them specially for the concert.’
‘Those look better.’ He was eyeing the long row of padded chairs ranged along the wall below the pictures.
‘They’re Chippendale,’ Paloma said, ‘and not for sitting on. Not these days, anyway. I’ll tell you something that will amuse you. See the fabric they’re covered with? What do you notice about it?’
‘Matches the walls?’
‘Right. It’s exactly the same stuff, crimson silk damask. At some point the original chair coverings got worn to shreds and needed replacing. Unfortunately the same fabric couldn’t be got for love nor money, so some bright spark came up with the idea of cutting out patches of the wall-covering from behind the pictures and using them on the chairs. If you took the pictures down, you’d see a lot of large square holes. It means they can’t change the arrangement, so they’re stuck with this crowded display that was okay two hundred years ago, but looks all wrong now.’
‘How did you find out?’
‘I know the house well. It’s sometimes used for period dramas. Northanger Abbey. The Remains of the Day. They usually get my help.’
‘Should have realised. Seeing you here, I didn’t think of that. Is the business thriving?’
‘Doing okay. And yours? Still keeping the crime rate down?’
He smiled. ‘Mostly.’
‘How’s Raffles?’
‘The same, running the house the way he likes.’
The small talk would run out soon. Diamond hadn’t found out for certain if she was in a new relationship.
‘People seem to be returning to their seats,’ Paloma said.
‘Where exactly are you?’ he asked as if he hadn’t been watching her all evening.
‘Over there. Third row back. You haven’t met Mike, have you? The tall guy in the light grey suit. He’ll be wondering where I am. Better get back to him. Enjoy the rest of the music.’
She was away. A civilized exchange had been ruined for him by the way she spoke about the dog’s dinner: Mike – not Michael, but the shorter, more familiar name, suggesting a closeness that hit Diamond like a low punch. The very fact that she’d left the guy alone for the whole of the interval indicated that they’d passed the stage of dating. He’ll be wondering where I am. She could have been talking about her husband.
Diamond slunk back to his seat.
Ingeborg was already looking at the programme. ‘The cellist is doing a solo next.’
‘Ah.’
‘ “Salut d’Amour”.’
Cat Kinsella’s arrival was warmly applauded. The confident way this woman with the girth of a sumo wrestler carried in her cello and positioned it between her knees spoke volumes for her temperament. She began playing with a clear, strong note.
Elgar’s bittersweet music was never going to lift Diamond out of his low mood, but he was here for a reason and by degrees he forced himself to give all his attention to Cat. What was it that made her prefer playing in the quartet to giving solo performances like this? By all accounts she was in the first rank as a cellist, capable of any of the great concertos in the repertoire. She could be a virtuoso, a top name in her own right.
There are people who think of themselves as team players. Mostly they relish the support of those around them. He wasn’t sure if this was true of the Staccati. They were more like talented individuals who tolerated each other. Of the four he’d met, Cat had the most regard for the others. She spoke well of them all, even the nitpicking Ivan. With her sharp wit, she was good at defusing tensions between the men. As the solitary female, did she see her role as a peacekeeper or something more? Were they a foster family for a woman without children of her own? Or was she living the dream that she had three lovers? Who could say what her sexual fantasies might be – or what actually happened.
Out here alone, the focal point of the entire room, interpreting Elgar with skill and sensitivity that even Diamond could appreciate, she still left him puzzling how it could be that she was happier when performing with the men around her.