Down Among the Dead Men by Peter Lovesey Read Free Book Online Page A

of Tom’s MG by mid-afternoon. She didn’t feel like starting another or indeed anything else, so she went for a stroll instead. The grounds weren’t vast or particularly beautiful, but there were some wonderful old trees. She found a kitchen garden at the back and a swimming pool with a tiled surround and two larger than life black and gold masked figures in bronze with spectacular headgear and cassock-like garments.
    Across another stretch of lawn she spotted Ferdie with his wheelbarrow emerging from a walled garden. He was coming in her direction, so she waited to speak. He seemed surprised when she gave a friendly, “Hi. Is that where you grow the orchids?”
    A slow smile of recognition dawned. “Didn’t recognise you for a moment.” He grounded the barrow. “Yes, I’d offer to show you round, but they’re in controlled conditions.”
    â€œHumidity and stuff?”
    He smiled. “That’s about right. Some of them are extremely delicate. How’s the art coming along, young lady? Going to show me? I’ve been handling compost but I won’t touch.”
    She opened her sketchbook and showed the pastel drawings of the MG.
    â€œHa, the passion wagon. You’ve caught it perfectly. Tom will approve, I guarantee.”
    â€œD’you reckon?” she said. “He’ll be like, ‘You’ve spent too much time getting a likeness when you should have made it more dynamic.’”
    â€œLike a streak of red to show it doing a ton on the motorway? Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer it just as you’ve drawn it.”
    Jem had no thought of calling him old-fashioned. “If I’d had my head straight when I got here this morning, I could have drawn those amazing figures near the pool, or their reflections in the water, which would have been even better.”
    â€œYou like them? I’m pleased to hear that.”
    â€œThey’re awesome. They set it off incredibly.” Without pause she added, “Is that where Tom holds his parties?”
    â€œSomeone been telling you about the parties, have they?” Ferdie said.
    â€œOne of the artists mentioned them as if they’re rather special.”
    â€œNot all that special, unless I missed something. Just a social get-together for his art friends. In the summer they gather round the pool and he has some loud music going. Or they sometimes hold it by the lake.”
    â€œYou’ve got a lake ?”
    â€œWe call it that. Others might describe it as a pond. You should take a stroll down there. It would make a nice picture. Of course in cold weather they use the studio for the parties.”
    â€œThey’re all year round, are they?”
    â€œNight of the full moon.”
    â€œGo on.”
    He grinned. “I kid you not.”
    â€œCool. D’you think I might get an invite?”
    â€œI can’t speak for my son, but I doubt it.”
    â€œWhy? Do they, like, get up to something illegal?”
    He laughed. “No, no, no. Not on my property. Any nonsense of that sort and I’d ban the lot of them.”

5
    G eorgina Dallymore, the Assistant Chief Constable in Bath, was unusually tense, gripping the edge of her desk with both hands as if she meant to heave it over and use it as a barricade when the enemy burst in. “Shut the door, would you? This is for your ears only.”
    Detective Superintendent Peter Diamond, not without tension himself, did as he was told.
    â€œHow is everything in CID?” Her standard question. It might mean anything.
    â€œHumming, ma’am, humming.” His standard response. It meant nothing.
    â€œBusy, then?”
    He nodded. It is always wise to be busy.
    â€œThe jewel robberies?”
    â€œTaking up a lot of time, yes.” Far too many of the rich and famous had their homes in and around Bath. A gang of thieves had been at work for eight months depriving them of some of their best items of