The Tooth Tattoo(92)

‘He’s out, too.’

‘Any idea where?’

‘He walks in the park sometimes.’ She pointed along the road in the direction of Sydney Gardens.

‘Your mother seems to believe you have a stalker,’ Diamond said. ‘Has he troubled you before?’

‘Who – me?’

‘That’s what I’m asking, Tippi.’

‘A stalker? Give me a break.’

‘What’s that meant to mean? Don’t you believe your own mother?’

‘I wasn’t here, didn’t see him.’

‘And nothing like it has happened before?

‘Dunno, do I? If he’s any good at it, I wouldn’t notice him.’


They drove down to Sydney Gardens, originally an eighteenth century pleasure garden that suffered a major assault soon after its opening when the Kennet and Avon canal was driven through. And forty years later it was sliced through a second time by the track of the Great Western Railway. But thanks to deep cutting and the building of ornamental bridges and a parapet, the worst horrors were averted. Jane Austen walked there often in its heyday and remarked that one of the advantages was that it was wide enough to get away from the music. These days the gardens are a haven of quiet in a busy city. Helpfully for Diamond, it wasn’t the sort of park where you had no chance of finding anyone. There is a central path almost from end to end with views to either side.

They spotted Mel Farran near the Temple of Minerva, the faux Greek structure of Corinthian columns at the centre of the gardens. Clearly he saw them coming and seemed undecided whether to make an about turn, but thought better of it.

‘How are you doing?’ Diamond said when they got close enough. ‘You had a run-in with a Renault Megane yesterday, I was told.’

Mel was quick to dismiss. ‘It was nothing. My landlady got excited, but I’m fine.’

‘Any idea who was driving?’

‘It all happened too fast. As much my fault as his, I reckon. I don’t want to make a complaint.’

‘How was it your fault?’

‘I was dead set on speaking to him and I kept going when he started the car. Walked right into it.’

‘When you say “dead set” – ’

‘I thought I recognised the car. Saw one just like it the same day outside the Tippett Centre, some idiot who drove off fast and almost knocked down a student. But I could be mistaken.’

Diamond didn’t let that pass. ‘You think you saw him twice the same day?’

‘I didn’t get the number or anything. I’m not a hundred percent sure.’

‘Can you think of any reason why anyone is tailing you?’

Mel hesitated. ‘No.’

‘Just that you seemed nervous at the concert last night, as if you were looking out for him.’

He pulled a disbelieving face, as if somebody else was being discussed, and then seemed to remember and gave a shrill laugh. ‘That’s nothing to do with the driver of the Megane. I was playing a new instrument in public for the first time and I thought the owner might be in the audience.’

‘Don’t you own your viola?’

‘I couldn’t possibly afford an Amati. They’re worth a fortune. This sometimes happens with professional players – if you get lucky. We get offered top quality instruments by the people who own them. In a few cases they’re gifts, but mostly they’re on extended loan.’

‘I guess that would make anyone nervous.’

‘Especially as I once had my own instrument stolen.’

‘When was this?’

‘Years ago, when I was doing orchestral work.’ Mel related the story of the mugging outside the Royal Festival Hall and it was obvious that the experience had deeply affected him. Even at this distance in time his voice broke up a little in telling it.

‘That’s so cruel,’ Ingeborg cried out suddenly.

‘Mean,’ Diamond said. ‘What would they want with a viola that had very little value?’

‘Maybe they thought it was worth more,’ Mel said. ‘For me, it was valuable.’

‘A young musician, trying to earn a living?’ Ingeborg stressed in sympathy. ‘I should think it was irreplaceable.’

‘So who does your Amati belong to?’ Diamond asked.

Mel vibrated his lips and became cagey again. ‘I’m not allowed to say. The owner likes to remain anonymous. That’s a condition of the loan.’

‘From what you were saying, you only acquired it recently. Can I infer that he lives in Bath?’

‘No, you can’t.’

‘Meaning he doesn’t live here – or I shouldn’t be asking?’

‘No comment.’ Followed by a twitchy grin.