Diamond Dust Read Free

for immediate consumption.
    'On the way back from Bristol.'
    'Nice surprise.'
    'Mm.'
    'There's the difference between you and me,' she said. 'I don't mind surprises.'
    'You're saying I do?'
    'You hate them. That's why you're such a good detective. You take out the surprise element by thinking ahead, every angle.'
    'I wish it were true.'
    'Of course it's true.'
    'Yeah? How many times have I needed your help to second-guess a suspect? More than I can count.' He held up his glass.
    'Is this to anything special? Another villain off the streets?'
    'No, this is to my pretty, wise and understanding wife. Cheers, Steph.'
    Accepting a compliment is one of the hardest things to handle. She could have made some flippant response, but she didn't. Coming from her Peter, the awkward little speech was as near as he got to a love poem. She felt for his hand and held it, and they sipped their wine.
    'Speaking of surprises,' she said presently, 'certain of your old colleagues know you're reaching a landmark this year.'
    'My fiftieth?' He stared at her in alarm. 'How the hell did they find out?'
    'You had your picture in the papers last summer when there was all the hoo-ha about the body in the vault.'
    'Oh, and the bloody press always give your age. "Peter Diamond, forty-nine." It doesn't take a genius to work out I'll be half a hundred this year.' His eyes read her face. 'They're not planning anything?'
    'It was being whispered about. They asked me, and I did my best to cool it. I said you wouldn't appreciate a surprise party one bit.'
    'Dead right. Who was this?'
    'I'm not at liberty to say.'
    'They've dropped the idea, I hope.'
    'I think so, but we may need to think of something ourselves.'
    'Like being away for the week?'
    'Good thinking. I like it' Steph smiled. 'You're way ahead of me. What do you have in mind - a cruise?'
    He vibrated his lips. 'I can't think of anything worse.'
    'A surprise party is worse.'
    'Christ, yes.'
    'Oh, come on. They only thought of it because they're fond of you, in spite of the hard times you gave them. They want to show you some affection.'
    'Who are these misguided people?'
    'I promised not to say.'
    'They should know I get all the affection I want from you.'
    'Hint, hint?' She put aside her wineglass and turned to kiss him.
    Still troubled by the thought of opening a door on a roomful of smiling faces, he curled his arm around her and returned the kiss in a perfunctory way. She wriggled closer and the second kiss was warmer and they got horizontal in the same movement.
    'Well, now,' Steph said as he pressed against her. 'You're quite a surprise party yourself.'

3
    B y morning the scratches on his face had darkened and were more obvious. He checked them in the car mirror on the way to work, in a line of traffic on the Upper Bristol Road. No sense in kidding himself people wouldn't notice. Nobody at the nick would be bold enough to ask how they'd got there, but he was damned sure the place would hum with gossip. His team would have noticed he hadn't turned up at the pub, of course. 'I had to go to another scene,' he'd tell them without saying that the other scene was his home.
    He had this bullish reputation that shielded him from comments on his appearance, but inwardly he was more self-conscious than anyone realised. So he entered the nick by the back door, went straight upstairs to his office and closed the door. No one came in.
    Just after eleven he was summoned upstairs to Georgina's lair. Georgina Dallymore, the Assistant Chief Constable, gave the scratches a look and may even have winced a little, but made no reference to them when she gestured to him to sit down. 'So one of the Carpenters is off the streets now. Nice work, Peter.'
    'Don't know how long for.'
    'Yes, he's going to appeal. His solicitor said so on TV.'
    'Did he? I didn't watch the box last night.'
    'His friends outside the court made a lot of noise.'
    'Rentamob, ma'am.'
    Georgina picked up a pen and scrutinised it as if the writing on