Read Online Peter Diamond - 09 - The Secret Hangman by Peter Lovesey - Free Book Online Page B

strolled towards the spot where he’d driven over the bags. Sainsbury’s staff had done a good job of clearing up. Just a few bits of eggshell were lodged in a crack in the tarmac. It wasn’t all that long since he’d worked as a trolleyman and dogsbody himself in London, at that low point after he’d resigned from the force. He knew what it was like to be called to a mess with his mop and bucket.
    He stood there, whistling quietly.
    Ten minutes passed and he was getting reconciled to her not coming. Reconciled? Relieved, really. Sensible woman, she must have decided she’d acted on impulse. Just as he had.
    Then a horn sounded behind him and he saw her at the wheel of a silver sports car. ‘I’ll find a space and join you,’ she called out.
    He pointed to one in the row behind. She raised a thumb.
    ‘Nice little run-around,’ he said when she got out.
    ‘It gets me where I want to be,’ she said. She, too, had decided on a change of clothes, a blue and yellow jacket patterned with chrysanthemums and worn with a terracotta top and white linen slacks. She’d put up her blonde hair with two combs. A musky scent was part of the makeover.
    ‘We could have that drink right here in the Brasserie,’ he suggested to keep it simple. The Brasserie was part of the old Green Park station complex. It had once been the booking hall and wasn’t a bad place for a drink.
    ‘Uh-uh,’ she said, wagging her finger and smiling. ‘My treat, remember?’
    ‘Got somewhere else in mind?’
    ‘I phoned ahead. It’s not far.’
    Phoned ahead? That sounded ominous.
    ‘You look worried,’ she said. ‘Are you thinking it might rain?’
    ‘Hadn’t even crossed my mind. I’m Peter Diamond, by the way.’
    ‘Paloma Kean. And before you ask, the nearest my parents got to Spain was the paso doble at the local Mecca ballroom. They simply liked the sound of Paloma.’
    ‘So do I. Good taste.’
    ‘I didn’t think so when I was going through school. I was known as Plum.’
    ‘Did you mind?’
    ‘I got used to it. There are worse names.’
    She stepped out across James Street with him at her side trying to guess where they were heading. No bar he knew in Bath insisted on advance bookings.
    ‘We agreed just a drink,’ he reminded her a little way up Charles Street.
    ‘Why – have you eaten?’
    ‘No, but I will later.’
    In Saw Close they passed the theatre and she stopped next door, at Strada, an Italian restaurant newer and smarter than Tosi’s.
    ‘You’re not bringing me here?’ he said in concern.
    ‘Why not? They’ll serve us a drink. I often come here.’
    To Diamond, this was unfamiliar territory. For years, it had been Popjoy’s, known for its fine cuisine and high prices. You couldn’t see any of the interior from the street. It had been a private house that had once belonged to Beau Nash, the man who made Bath fashionable in the eighteenth century. They were admitted by a waiter who greeted Paloma as Mrs Kean and showed them to a reserved table in the Georgian sitting room.
    She was handed the wine list, and she asked what he would like.
    ‘Do they stock a low-alcohol lager?’
    ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Live dangerously. They do a good range of wines.’
    ‘No, I mean it.’
    ‘Worried about the drive home?’
    ‘I’d better come clean with you. I’m in the police. The sure way to put a damper on the evening.’
    ‘I can’t think why,’ she said without even blinking. ‘You won’t find my name in your files.’
    If she wanted some banter, he was up for it. ‘Is that because you’re good, or good at getting away with it?’
    ‘I leave you to guess.’ She ordered champagne for herself.
    ‘Now I know why they call you Plum.’
    Another waiter approached with the menu.
    Diamond started to say, ‘I really didn’t—’
    Paloma made a slight downward movement with her hand. ‘It’s my choice.’
    He stopped protesting, ordered a mushroom risotto, and then said, ‘I owned up to my