The Last Detective by Peter Lovesey Read Free Book Online Page A

backdrops for television plays of the sort the British are supposed to do best. With two thousand years of history, Bath chooses to ignore all but the Roman and the Georgian periods. Some people say that it's just a theme park, that if you want to see a real city you might as well drive the thirteen miles further west to Bristol. If you tried, as Peter Diamond did most mornings, you'd suffer the curse of a real city - its traffic. With the soap-star and the stone-cleaners, he was content to make his home in Bath.
    His house on Wellsway was only twenty minutes' walk from here - south of the railway. Not the smartest end of town, but the best a senior detective could afford.
    He almost waltzed across the car park and up the steps of Manvers Street Police Station. Already he had brushed aside the trifling embarrassment of his remarks about the people who had phoned in to say that the dead woman was a TV star. He didn't believe in fretting over past mistakes. Infinitely more was at stake than his own self-esteem. What mattered in a major inquiry was the ability of the man in charge to seize his opportunity when it came. Diamond was sure that the moment had arrived. His luck had changed now that he had turned his back on that pesky lake.
    He was met by the desk sergeant, whom he knew well.
    'Is he still here?'
    The sergeant nodded and made a dumb-show of pointing towards a door.
    Diamond scarcely lowered his voice. 'What line is he taking?'
    'He's very concerned about his wife, sir.'
    'He ought to be after three weeks.'
    'He's been away from home a good deal, he says. He thought she was with friends.'
    'And left it until now to go looking for her? What do you make of him?'
    The sergeant vibrated his lips as if the question was all too much to cope with. 'He's not my idea of a professor, sir.'
    'They don't all look like Einstein. Is he telling the truth about his wife? That's what I want to know.'
    'I think he must be, else why would he come in here?'
    Diamond answered with a look that said he could think of a dozen reasons. 'Does he know about the body in Chew Valley Lake?'
    The sergeant nodded. 'Friends told him.'
    'And what's a murdered wife between friends? Has he seen the picture we distributed?'
    'He hasn't mentioned it.'
    'Right. Don't stand there like a Christmas tree. There's plenty to do. I propose to set up the incident room here. We were on our way to Bristol, but this has changed everything. Get it organized, will you? And I need someone to take a statement.'
    With the confident air of a man about to do the thing he enjoys best, he thrust open the door of the office where the professor who had lost his wife was waiting. 'My name is Diamond,' he announced, 'Detective Superintendent Diamond.'
    It was immediately clear what the sergeant had meant. The man standing beside the window had the look not of a professor, but a sportsman. He might have just showered and changed after a five-setter at Wimbledon. Some padding in the shoulders of his black linen jacket clearly contributed to the effect, but he still didn't pass muster as an academic. He could not have been much over thirty. He wasn't wearing a tie, just a sky-blue cotton shirt sufficiently open to show a double gold chain across the chest. His thick, black hair was expensively cut and he had a Mexican style of moustache. Young men were running the money markets. Had they now taken over the universities? 'Gregory Jackman,' he introduced himself in a voice that was pure Yorkshire. 'Do you have any news of my wife?'
    Diamond, in his customary fashion, declined to answer. 'You're a professor, I understand. Bath University?'
    Jackman gave a nod.
    'What's your subject?'
    'English. Look, I'm here about my wife.'
    A woman PC came in with a shorthand pad.
    'You don't object if she takes notes?' Diamond enquired.
    'No. Why should I ?'
    'Have a seat, then. Just for the record, I should tell you that you don't have to say anything unless you wish to do so, but what you say may