The Summons by Peter Lovesey Read Free Book Online

happen to be a father—”
    “No,” said Diamond.
    “Oh.” Tott wasn’t up to this. His attempt at persuasion ground to a halt.
    It was Julie Hargreaves who remarked quietly, “It’s going to take an act of courage to save this young girl.”
    Diamond was not an obvious hero; but he had an old-fashioned dislike of appearing a coward, particularly in front of a woman. Instead of backing off completely, he said, “Have there been any sightings of Mountjoy in this area? If his picture has been in the papers, there are going to be sightings.”
    “None in Bath,” said Wigfull. “Practically every other city up and down the land, but you know what Bath is like.”
    Diamond grunted his assent. Whether the city’s architecture was the distraction, he didn’t know, but the public seemed to lose the capacity to recognize faces. Members of the royal family sometimes shopped in Milsom Street and rarely got a second glance.
    “You’ll get sod all help from the locals while you have this press embargo. Have you thought about lifting it?”
    Tott gripped the arms of his chair. “I don’t think that would be wise.”
    “We’d rather keep the incident under wraps for all sorts of reasons,” said Wigfull.
    “Like the reputation of Avon and Somerset CID?”
    Wigfull was too polished a diplomat to hit back. He gave Diamond a look that was more injured than angry. “The main point is to deny Mount joy the opportunity of manipulating the media. He’s no fool.”
    Tott added, “And we don’t want the press or the public to hamper this operation.”
    “It’s an operation, is it?” said Diamond.
    “Investigation, then. Call it what you will.”
    “I’m not bothered about the terminology, Mr. Tott. I’m simply making the point that if you want me in on this, I’m entitled to know the ground plan.”
    “Absolutely,” agreed Tott, straightening in his chair, grabbing at what he took to be a lifeline.
    “What has happened up to now?”
    With a wave of his right hand Tott invited John Wigfull to respond. “We’re following the usual procedure for a kidnapping. Extensive searches of likely places within a five-mile radius of the city center.”
    “That’s a lot of places.”
    “We’ve got a lot of men deployed. Obviously we’re double-checking all reported break-ins and thefts of vehicles.”
    “You believe he’s in the city?”
    “He must have come in to snatch Samantha. She was busking in Stall Street.”
    “What do you mean by ’snatch’? You wouldn’t snatch a girl out of Stall Street on Saturday afternoon. It’s awash with shoppers and tourists. Was she busking alone?”
    “Yes.”
    “Positively seen?”
    Wigfull nodded. “One of her friends saw her playing at about four-fifteen. That was Una Moon, the same young woman who told us on Monday that she was missing. Miss Tott lives with a number of other young people in a house in Widcombe.”
    “A squat, do you mean?”
    Tott shifted uneasily. “Yes, it is a property occupied by unemployed young people. She left home almost a year ago, against our wishes I’m sorry to say.”
    If Samantha had rebelled against Mr. Tott, she was in good company and there was something to be said for her. “Presumably your search squads have a picture.”
    Julie Hargreaves produced a five-by-seven black-and-white print from her folder and passed it across the table. The original must have come from the Tott family album, for it showed a young girl in a taffeta evening gown with old-fashioned bouffant sleeves of the kind favored by young musicians on the concert platform. She was dangling a violin by her right leg and a boy by her left. A striking face with large, dark eyes and a finely shaped mouth that curved upward at the ends and so undermined the formality of the pose. Her hair was sensational—heaps upon heaps of natural curls in a triumphant version of the Afro style. Even more sensational when compared with her father’s flat-to-the-head short back and