residents' groups. Evidently on the Wednesday she'd had her hair done, which was usually a sure sign of some important occasion ahead. Another call to 'T' on Friday. And she'd said not a word about all this.
Hold on, he told himself, this is your wife Steph. Don't read too much into it. But the suspicion of a secret affair was planted. How could he interpret it as anything else?
For crying out hud, be realistic! Steph wasn't two-timing me. I'd have picked up some signals. She was as loving as ever in those last few days of her life, on our last night together. There's another explanation. Has to be.
He went methodically through the eight weeks up to the date of her death and found no other mention of this 'T'. It was no use looking for last year's diary, because she always threw them away at the end of the year. His hands still shook as he replaced this one in its pocket of the handbag and closed the zip.
There was no sense of triumph in handing the bag to McGarvie. He simply walked into the incident room, passed it over and said where he'd found it.
'I thought those bloody great things were solid stone,' McGarvie said as if Diamond himself had conned him. 'I suppose you looked inside?'
He nodded. 'You'll find some of my prints on it. And Warburton's, no doubt. The purse is in there, minus the money. And her diary.'
'The diary.' The tired eyes widened.
'She had an appointment in the park the day she died.'
'Who with?'
'Someone she called “T”.’
McGarvie looked around the incident room. 'Did you hear that, everyone? This is the breakthrough.' He looked animated for the first time in a month. 'Any thoughts?'
Diamond shook his head. 'Like I said, she hadn't mentioned a thing.'
'Boyfriend?'
'Some boyfriend, if he put a bullet through her head.'
'Sorry. I've got to cover every angle. And you think Warburton took the cash?'
'I'm sure of it'
'And tossed the bag in the vase?'
'He told me he did. Took me to the place. There was only forty quid. If you're thinking of charging him, don't. He gave me his co-operation.'
'I'll handle this my way. I still want to speak to him. Look, I'm grateful you found this.'
'But . . .' Diamond said.
'You know what I'm going to say?'
'Save it. I'm not trying to take over. I'll keep my distance.'
'That's not good enough, Peter.'
'It's the best you'll get.'
Specially, he thought, when I'm ahead of you.
He turned right outside the police station and walked the length of Manvers Street and beyond, where it became Pierrepont Street. At the far end he turned left into North Parade Passage, and straight to Steph's hairdresser, called What a Snip.
He asked for Jan. She was with a client.
'If it's about an appointment,' the receptionist said with a dubious look at Diamond's bald patch, 'I can do it from the book.'
'You can show me the book. And you can tell Jan to break off and speak to the police.'
She went at once.
Steph's name was in the book for one-thirty on Wednesday, February the seventeenth.
'Does this tick beside her name mean she definitely came in?' he asked Jan when she appeared.
'She did. Mr Diamond, I can't tell you how shocked I was when I heard what happened,'Jan said. She was the senior stylist and manager, meaning she was all of twenty-one with the confidence of twice that, blond, elfin, with eyes that had seen everything and dealt with every kind of client. You wouldn't mess with Jan. Steph must have liked her.
'I want you to cast your mind back to that Wednesday. I'm sure she chatted as you were doing her hair.'
'A bit, yes.'
'Can you remember any of what was said?'
'That's asking. The weather, naturally. My holiday in Tenerife. The night before's television, I expect. And the kind of cut she wanted.'
'Did she say anything about the reason for the hairdo?'
'Not that I remember.'
'Try, please. She wasn't one for regular appointments, as you know. She only booked you when she had something coming up. Did she mention what it was?'
She shook her
Hold on, he told himself, this is your wife Steph. Don't read too much into it. But the suspicion of a secret affair was planted. How could he interpret it as anything else?
For crying out hud, be realistic! Steph wasn't two-timing me. I'd have picked up some signals. She was as loving as ever in those last few days of her life, on our last night together. There's another explanation. Has to be.
He went methodically through the eight weeks up to the date of her death and found no other mention of this 'T'. It was no use looking for last year's diary, because she always threw them away at the end of the year. His hands still shook as he replaced this one in its pocket of the handbag and closed the zip.
There was no sense of triumph in handing the bag to McGarvie. He simply walked into the incident room, passed it over and said where he'd found it.
'I thought those bloody great things were solid stone,' McGarvie said as if Diamond himself had conned him. 'I suppose you looked inside?'
He nodded. 'You'll find some of my prints on it. And Warburton's, no doubt. The purse is in there, minus the money. And her diary.'
'The diary.' The tired eyes widened.
'She had an appointment in the park the day she died.'
'Who with?'
'Someone she called “T”.’
McGarvie looked around the incident room. 'Did you hear that, everyone? This is the breakthrough.' He looked animated for the first time in a month. 'Any thoughts?'
Diamond shook his head. 'Like I said, she hadn't mentioned a thing.'
'Boyfriend?'
'Some boyfriend, if he put a bullet through her head.'
'Sorry. I've got to cover every angle. And you think Warburton took the cash?'
'I'm sure of it'
'And tossed the bag in the vase?'
'He told me he did. Took me to the place. There was only forty quid. If you're thinking of charging him, don't. He gave me his co-operation.'
'I'll handle this my way. I still want to speak to him. Look, I'm grateful you found this.'
'But . . .' Diamond said.
'You know what I'm going to say?'
'Save it. I'm not trying to take over. I'll keep my distance.'
'That's not good enough, Peter.'
'It's the best you'll get.'
Specially, he thought, when I'm ahead of you.
He turned right outside the police station and walked the length of Manvers Street and beyond, where it became Pierrepont Street. At the far end he turned left into North Parade Passage, and straight to Steph's hairdresser, called What a Snip.
He asked for Jan. She was with a client.
'If it's about an appointment,' the receptionist said with a dubious look at Diamond's bald patch, 'I can do it from the book.'
'You can show me the book. And you can tell Jan to break off and speak to the police.'
She went at once.
Steph's name was in the book for one-thirty on Wednesday, February the seventeenth.
'Does this tick beside her name mean she definitely came in?' he asked Jan when she appeared.
'She did. Mr Diamond, I can't tell you how shocked I was when I heard what happened,'Jan said. She was the senior stylist and manager, meaning she was all of twenty-one with the confidence of twice that, blond, elfin, with eyes that had seen everything and dealt with every kind of client. You wouldn't mess with Jan. Steph must have liked her.
'I want you to cast your mind back to that Wednesday. I'm sure she chatted as you were doing her hair.'
'A bit, yes.'
'Can you remember any of what was said?'
'That's asking. The weather, naturally. My holiday in Tenerife. The night before's television, I expect. And the kind of cut she wanted.'
'Did she say anything about the reason for the hairdo?'
'Not that I remember.'
'Try, please. She wasn't one for regular appointments, as you know. She only booked you when she had something coming up. Did she mention what it was?'
She shook her
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