Patrick Logue’s dubious claim to fame was that he’d never had a hangover. Today that boast was under pressure. He was subdued; his face was pale, his eyes bloodshot, his usual bonhomie absent. Underneath the table his hands would be shaking. It didn’t take second sight to know how the night before had ended; Patrick had met his match and was suffering. I ignored his pain and asked a question, although the answer was in front of me. ‘So how did it finish with Yannis?’
His reply was short on detail. ‘Fine.’
‘Where did you end up?’
‘Got round a few places.’
Patspeak: he couldn’t remember.
‘You were getting on like a house on fire when I saw you.’
He faked a smile that died on his lips. ‘He’s an interestin’ guy.’
‘What did you find out yesterday, anything?’
He took a breath deep into his lungs and let it out slowly. This was a trial for him and he was clearly struggling.
Patrick changed the subject to something more important. To him. ‘Don’t happen to have a beer, do you, Charlie?’
I reached into the bottom drawer of the desk and brought a bottle of Chivas Regal out. ‘No beer. Give you a shot of this if it’ll help.’
The secret of serious drinking was flexibility. He eyed the bottle. ‘I’ll take it.’
The whisky disappeared in a couple of gulps. I gave him another and watched the colour return to his cheeks.
‘So, back to Yannis. Did he have anything we can use?’
Patrick shook his head.
‘Nothing we don’t know already, Charlie. But I’ll tell you one thing, the Greeks can’t half drink. My finances are beleaguered.’
‘Meaning what?’
‘I’m buggered. Don’t suppose you could sub us a—’
I beat him to it. ‘Don’t you ever give up?’
He accepted the rebuke and rubbed his hands together, the Patrick of old reborn.
‘Worth a try, Charlie, always worth a try. What’s the next move?’
‘We’ve run out of witnesses. That just leaves what connects them. Get me the link, Patrick, just get me that link.’
Yannis arrived at five minutes to ten and, in contrast to Pat Logue, was relaxed and fresh: a different man from the glassy-eyed whisky drinker. I remembered the grin – it was still there. From behind it, he studied me. In his business, over the years, the Greek was bound to have come up against heavy characters. He’d survived and I understood why: there was a strength and an easy charm I hadn’t noticed yesterday. The ponytail dropping to his black T-shirt must go down well with female tourists: very Shirley Valentine.
I filled him in on my interest in Joe Franks; he didn’t comment.
‘When we spoke on the phone you told me Joe was a fine man.’
His features cracked in a smile revealing white teeth and he replied without answering my question. ‘The Scottish are like the Greeks. Unfortunately, the weather is not so good.’
I tried again. ‘How well did you know Joe?’
‘For more than twenty years he was my friend. We drank together many times. Always it was Joe who took me home. Always. In the morning I didn’t have to look in my pockets to see if my money was still there. Do you understand? I trusted Joe Franks and he trusted me.’
‘Did he have enemies?’
He slapped his thigh as if I’d made a joke. ‘A successful man can’t go through life without making enemies.’
‘I mean serious enemies.’
‘I understand what you’re saying. I’ve dodged more than one bullet in my time. Ours can be a dangerous game to be in. But Joe was a good man; a man you could rely on. He never took chances.’
‘Would it surprise you to hear he was broke?’
Yannis shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t believe it.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because. It’s impossible.’ He drew his fingers through the once-black beard, glanced round the room and slowly came back to me. ‘You never met Joe Franks. He knew his business. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds: he could assess their quality in his sleep. Joe didn’t make a bad deal in his life.’
‘Did he tell you about the last deal he was involved in?’
‘Sure, we respected each other’s opinion and spoke all the time. He used to joke that my country invented diamonds because the word diamond comes from the Greek word adamas, meaning invincible.’
‘Did you tell him to be careful?’
The question puzzled him. ‘Joe was a professional. There was no need.’
‘Then why did he keep the last parcel – the one that got him killed – in his home instead of in the office safe?’
I was suggesting his friend had been reckless or, worse, a fool. The Greek’s dark eyes mirrored his displeasure; he defended the dead jeweller. ‘If Joe kept them at home you can be certain he had a good reason.’
His loyalty was admirable. I moved past it. ‘Except somebody murdered him, Yannis. Somebody stole those stones.’
We stared at each other across the desk until he said, ‘Do you think it was me?’
My reply was blunt. ‘I don’t know. Was it? According to Dennis Boyd, you argued. Three hundred thousand pounds was mentioned. What was the row about? Were you involved in the deal?’
He nodded, appreciating the candour, and I knew this man had nothing to hide.
‘No. Joe wanted me to come in on it but I was stretched in other directions and couldn’t. He got frustrated and we argued. An hour later, he called me and we laughed about it.’
‘Did the stones ever surface?’
‘No. After Joe died, I waited for them to come on the market. They never did.’
‘Would you have recognised them?’
‘As a package yes, the individual stones, no. There are other signs.’
‘Like what?’
‘Provenance.’ Yannis saw the blank look on my face. ‘The seller and the documentation he provides. If he has none…’ He let me finish the thought.
A light went on in my head. I’d been coming at it from the wrong angle. In a case with so many unanswerable questions it might still be possible to discover who had fenced the diamonds. ‘If they didn’t pass through the usual routes, what would happen to them?’
He smiled at my lack of knowledge. ‘A parcel like this would be blood in the water, attracting sharks from many places.’
‘Who else did Joe work with besides you?’
‘Over the years, many people, too many to remember. Always ones he’d done business with before. No, to find the truth you will have to go in another direction.’
Yannis looked me in the eye and I knew what Joe Franks had known: the Greek was a straight-shooter. I said, ‘Did Joe seem different to you?’
‘Yes. Towards the end he became quiet. His marriage was in trouble so I assumed that was the reason.’
‘Did you ever meet his wife?’
‘Once. In Chania. She came with him on a trip.’
‘What did you think of her?’
He scratched the beard. ‘A fine-looking woman. Apart from that I don’t remember much about her.’
There was no more to say. At the door, the Greek shook my hand in an iron grip. ‘Let me know what you find.’
‘I will. I promise, I will.’
He seemed satisfied. ‘Your friend Patrick is another good man. Very smart. I envy him. Where does he find the time to read so many books?’
I could’ve told him. It was better he didn’t know.
Apart from losing a good friend, the rift with Andrew was a blow. Often in the past he’d used his connections to help me with a case. The deal was straightforward: I pretended to listen to him grumble about misuse of police resources and said nothing when he barked his usual question, “Do you imagine I’m working for you, Charlie?” and he’d be back a couple of days later with the information. Understanding the official thinking on where Joe Franks’ diamonds had gone would’ve been useful. Too bad that option didn’t exist any more.
Diane Kennedy was the next best thing. The last time I’d seen her she’d been distraught, breaking her heart, sobbing on my shoulder over Dennis Boyd. I’d expected her to blame me; she hadn’t. Her conviction that her old lover was being set up again to take the fall for something he didn’t do was so strong my involvement was overlooked and earned me a pass – a more generous assessment of my efforts than my own.
When I called, she sounded relaxed. ‘We’re at home all day.’
Domestic harmony? Or maybe she was warning me Ritchie was there and to be careful about what I said.
Diane opened the door, radiant in beige trousers and a scarlet blouse tied at the front, though the lines on her face told the real story of what she was going through. I followed her into the lounge. Over her shoulder she said, ‘Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee? Something stronger?’
‘I’m fine, thanks.’
Kennedy glanced up, expressionless. She sat beside him on the couch. ‘I’m surprised to hear from you again so soon. With Dennis in prison I thought that would be the end of it for you.’
‘That’s not my case. You hired me to look into Joe’s death, remember? That’s what I’m doing. What happened to his diamonds?’
Kennedy answered for her. ‘They were never found.’
I ignored him and put my next question to his wife. ‘Apart from losing your husband, no insurance meant you lost out on a small fortune. Did the police speculate on where the stones may have gone? There must have been follow-up?’
The surprise she’d admitted a moment earlier played on her face. ‘None that I know of. They thought Dennis had stashed them before they arrested him. I assumed the killer laid them off to a fence.’
‘You mean the real killer?’
‘Yes.’
‘But they spoke to you about them.’
‘They did, of course they did. More than once. And what a waste of time that was. They interviewed me at the station the day after the murder. Later, they came here asking questions about the diamonds. I was still in shock. My husband was dead. I didn’t twig at first until I suddenly realised where it was going. They thought I might have been in on it.’ Kennedy patted his wife’s hand. ‘Treated me like a bloody criminal, if you want the truth.’
I threw sympathy her way. ‘Family members are always prime suspects.’
She hugged herself like a child. ‘I couldn’t get through to them that I didn’t even know Joe had stones in the house. He was so secretive towards the end. Hardly said a word. They changed their tune when they found a second diamond and Joe’s blood in Dennis’s car.’
‘Did you get them back?’
‘We did. Eventually. Got a decent amount for them, too. God knows what the whole lot was worth.’
‘Who did you sell to?’
Diane said, ‘Joe kept me away from the business so I hadn’t a clue. I used a guy in the Arcade who probably ripped us off. I just wanted the nightmare to end. Except, thanks to my late husband, I needed the money.’
Her present husband gently massaged her shoulders. Relations between them, so obviously strained because of her connection to her former flame, must have improved. I guessed Boyd being in custody might have something to do with it.
‘Then, you can’t tell me anything?’
She shook her blonde head. I turned my attention to Ritchie and caught him off guard. ‘Weren’t you in business with Joe Franks at one time?’
The implication didn’t escape him; he reacted. ‘No. I approached Joe – must be eighteen years ago – about maybe getting together.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Wouldn’t consider it. Turned me down flat. Told me to stick to what I knew. Good advice. Though something good came out of it. I met Diane.’
A look passed between them; time for me to go. At the door I said, ‘Did you speak to Boyd about the visitor list?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You’re on it. He’s expecting you at eleven o’clock tomorrow.’
Kennedy put his arm round his wife and grinned fiercely at me. His rival was in prison and likely to stay there. He allowed the satisfaction to show. I guess he couldn’t help himself. From where he stood it had worked out all right.
He said, ‘Apart from his sister you’re the only one who wants to see him.’