The Summons by Peter Lovesey Read Free Book Online Page A

sides.
    “Presumably she wasn’t dressed like this on Saturday?”
    Julie Hargreaves answered, “A black knitted top and blue jeans with black tights underneath. Plus long black socks. It gets cold on the streets. And a well-worn pair of Reebok trainers. She had her violin with her, of course, and the case.”
    “And the violin hasn’t been found?”
    “No.”
    Diamond reached for a sandwich. Whether by accident or design he tipped two more on the table and added them to his plate. While the others watched this maneuver he said casually, “What’s the plan, John?”
    This bolt from the blue shocked Wigfull into displacement actvity: a hand dragged down the side of his face, a shuffling of shoes and some hefty throat-clearing. “That depends whether we have your cooperation,” he said finally.
    “No it doesn’t,” said Diamond. “Look we’re not haggling in a Cairo bazaar. You have a plan and I’m entitled to hear it.”
    “True.”
    “Well?”
    “Em . . .”
    “Yes?”
    “We, em, we recommend that you go along with whatever arrangement Mount joy suggests. We’ll supply a car for you fitted with a monitoring device.”
    “Mountjoy doesn’t suggest that. He prohibits it. Specifically.”
    Wigfull nodded. “But the bugs we use are so incredibly small now that it would be quite impossible for him to locate it, short of dismantling the car in a garage. We can monitor your position and keep a discreet surveillance. I emphasize discreet, Peter. There’s no question of moving in while you are with him. The object will be to track him afterwards.”
    “To the place where Samantha is being held?”
    “Hopefully, yes.”
    “I’m glad you say hopefully,” commented Diamond. “I can’t see Mountjoy falling for this. He’s not so naive as to believe you wouldn’t use bugs just because he asked. My guess is that he’d have a stolen vehicle at the rendezvous ready to drive me off to some remote place where he’d top me before you lot blew the whistle.”
    Wigfull shook his head. “He isn’t out to kill you.”
    “How do you know what’s in his mind?”
    “It would destroy his case. He claims he was stitched up.”
    The blood pressure peaked again. “I didn’t stitch him up. Are you suggesting I was corrupt as well as bloody-minded?”
    Tott said, “Take it easy, Mr. Diamond.”
    “I withdraw ’stitched up,’ “ said Wigfull. “He claims there was a miscarriage of justice, that in fact he was innocent of murder. He has maintained this consistently since he was sentenced. Through his solicitor he has three times asked for leave to appeal. The governor of Albany informed us that the man is untiring in protesting his innocence. This isn’t a thug who wants to murder the officer who put him away.”
    “Mountjoy is a killer,” said Diamond. “We all know it—don’t we?”
    “Regardless of that—”
    “You’re joking!”
    Wigfull continued doggedly, “He believes he has grounds for appeal. All his requests have been turned down. We think he wants to canvass your support. I know he’s in cloud cuckoo land. We all remember the Britt Strand case and there wasn’t any doubt. But Mountjoy has pinned his hopes on an appeal. This meeting with you is consistent with that.”
    “He’s a killer.”
    Julie Hargreaves said, “Which is why Samantha’s life is in danger.”
    Diamond gave Julie a look more surprised than reproachful. He hadn’t expected her to wade in as well. She, too, had succumbed to the pressure. Never underestimate the sisterly bond one woman feels for another in trouble.
    Tott tried putting the argument into a topical context. “All these verdicts being overturned in recent years. What publicity they get! Everyone in prison draws encouragement.”
    “Mountjoy hasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell.”
    “Agreed, but that isn’t the point,” said Wigfull. “He believes he has grounds for appeal. A few years in Albany would convince anyone that he deserves a retrial.