Peter Diamond - 09 - The Secret Hangman Read Online Free PDF

the best waitress he’d ever had, dependable, a lively personality and popular with the customers. He’s very emotional about the murder. Even wept a little while we were talking about it.’
    ‘What time did she leave after work?’
    ‘He thinks about eleven.’
    ‘Thinks?’
    ‘He’d already gone. His wife wasn’t well, so he left the restaurant early and his head waiter Luigi closed the place.’
    ‘Did you speak to this Luigi?’
    ‘I’m going back later. He’s on at five.’
    ‘I’ll come with you.’
    Before that, he spoke to the entire murder squad, seated around the incident room. ‘The press are waiting downstairs and I’m going straight to them after this. What I won’t be telling them at this stage is that the victim was fun-loving, as they say, and not getting much fun from her partner. Ashley is so wrapped up in his work he doesn’t even notice when she isn’t home. She has a child-minder for her two kids, and they don’t fret when she’s away. Why? Because she’s done it before. She’s that kind of mother. She needs space, according to Ashley. We have no clue where this space was, and if it involved another man. We’re damn sure it involved someone else on the night she was strangled.’ He spread his hands. ‘Of course it won’t take the press boys long to work this out for themselves, but I want to start with the shock of the young working mum strangled at night and left hanging in the park. We’ll issue her photo and hope to get some feedback from the public. She was a waitress, so we’re sure to hear from people who remember her, who could have spotted her with a man in the hours leading up to her death. We may even get lucky and hear from someone who saw her with her killer. The phone lines are ready. It’s a crucial time and we’re up for it, right?’
    The phone on his desk was beeping when he returned to his office. He gave his surname, as always.
    A woman said, ‘Hi, Peter.’
    He couldn’t place the voice, but she seemed to know him and she wasn’t going to help by saying her name.
    ‘Er, hi.’
    ‘So how was the cake?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘They did give it to you?’
    ‘Ah.’ The response was verging on ‘arrgh’ now he realised who was on the line. After the rousing speech to his squad he was in no mood for trivial chat with his secret admirer.
    ‘It was meant for you.’ She paused, and her tone changed. ‘The blighters. If they had it themselves, I’m going to raise hell.’ She was ready to go to war with the desk team downstairs.
    He had to deal with this. ‘Oh – the cake?’ All experience told him to say the minimum, but he’d been trained in good manners since he was a kid. After clearing your plate you say thanks. He’d eaten the damned cake and forgotten it. Where was his gratitude? ‘Am I speaking to the lady who made it? Very tasty. The cake, I mean.’
    She laughed.
    He didn’t. He wasn’t trying to be amusing.
    ‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘I’m not fishing for compliments. I know I’m not the greatest cook.’
    The good manners took over again. ‘Everyone said it was the best. I shared it round.’
    ‘You should have taken it home.’
    ‘I did – what was left of it.’
    ‘Let’s not talk about the wretched cake,’ she said. ‘You’re not daft. You know who I am.’
    ‘Do I?’
    ‘The woman you didn’t meet at the Saracen’s last night. Did my letter put you off?’
    ‘It’s nothing to do with your letter, nothing personal,’ he said. ‘That’s the point. It can’t be personal because I don’t know you. And you certainly don’t know me, or you wouldn’t bother.’
    She wasn’t giving up yet. ‘I told you quite a bit about myself in the letter.’
    ‘Yes, ma’am, and now I know you make a fine chocolate cake, but it doesn’t mean we’d enjoy a drink together.’
    ‘Why not? We haven’t tried.’
    He was getting annoyed. ‘Because I don’t do that stuff.’
    ‘What stuff?’
    ‘Going out with women I