Deadly Secrets (Detective Erika Foster #6)(48)

‘Was she going to sell the diamond earrings?’ asked Peterson.

‘I know she wasn’t the brightest star in the firmament, but she knew the difference between singular and plural. She meant one diamond, and this was before the earrings appeared,’ said Martin. ‘She was either being cryptic, or talking shit. Sadly, with Marissa, it was often the latter.’

‘Were you here when she did her last gig on Christmas Eve?’

‘Yes. And she wore the diamond earrings on that night.’

‘Can you be sure?’ asked Peterson.

‘Yes, cos she came in here stark naked, asking me to fix her suspender belt. I kept my eyes above her neck. I’m not too keen on the female anatomy,’ he said, pursing his lips. ‘Especially when it’s shoved in my face with no warning.’

‘Who is the woman Marissa took with her to the jeweller in Hatton Garden?’ asked Peterson.

‘She was performing tonight, I’ll just give her a tinkle…’ He pulled a phone out, removing one of the clip-on earrings he was wearing to make the call.

‘Wench! Are you still here? The police want to talk to you… Nothing bad, just a couple of questions.’

A door outside creaked, and a small woman in jeans and a purple woollen jumper appeared at the door. Erika recognised her as the stripping stormtrooper.

‘You wanted to see me?’

‘Come in Ella, don’t skulk by the door jamb,’ said Martin, putting his earring back on. ‘This is Ella Bartlett.’

She smiled at Erika and ran an appraising glance over Peterson.

‘You went with Marissa to have her earrings valued?’ asked Erika.

‘Yeah. The guy estimated they were worth ten and a half grand. He offered to buy them as they had exceptional purity, he said.’

‘And Marissa didn’t take him up on it?’

‘Not when I was with her; she seemed pretty chuffed to have such a shit-hot pair of earrings. Like she didn’t want to part with them.’

‘When did you go with her?’

‘A week or so ago.’

‘Were you and Marissa good friends?’

‘Not really. I was just as intrigued as everyone else to see if they were real, and I was going up that way to my gym, so I thought I’d go with her.’

‘Can you remember which jeweller it was?’

‘No. It was close to the Gym Box where I work out, the one in Farringdon, like, two roads away…’ Erika looked at Peterson. That only slightly narrowed it down from the hundreds of jewellers in Hatton Garden.

‘Can I give you my number, and if you remember, let me know? It’s very important,’ said Erika, handing over her card. The girl nodded and was about to go.

‘Ooh, Ella, that reminds me. I got you some Febreze for your stormtrooper helmet. I know it gets very hot in there,’ said Martin, handing her a bottle. Ella looked at Peterson, embarrassed, and grabbed it from Martin. ‘And you owe me five ninety-nine,’ he shouted after her. ‘Officer, are there any more questions? I’ve got to run up six G-strings from scratch and I can’t miss the last train home.’

‘Thank you,’ said Erika.





Thirty-One





‘Oh my lord, this case,’ said Erika, as she and Peterson walked back to Charing Cross station. They took the quieter back streets so they could talk over what they had discovered.

‘And what is this diamond thing?’ said Peterson.

‘It was Marissa’s trademark. Perhaps she thought that she, Honey Diamond, would be the one to make a fortune from her career. Dita Von Teese has made millions, and she wanted to be the next Dita Von Teese.’

‘There just seems to be more and more layers of…’

‘Intrigue? Deception?’ asked Erika.

‘Shit. The word is shit. This case is a quagmire. Everyone hated her.’

Erika nodded. ‘Marissa had a big mouth and was indiscreet, but as far as I can tell, she only told Mrs Fryatt about being attacked by the guy in the gas mask.’

‘Just because Marissa was a fantasist and not well-liked by people, doesn’t mean she didn’t have fears and secrets. So many people are too scared to report when they are attacked or assaulted. And the most confident people can often be bluffers, and feign confidence,’ said Peterson.

Erika nodded. They had been so deep in discussion that they hadn’t noticed where they were walking, and they emerged from a side street out into Regent Street. Sleet had started to fall.

‘Do you fancy a coffee?’ asked Peterson, seeing a Starbucks still open on the corner. ‘At least until this sleet stops.’

‘Okay.’

They waited for a couple of red buses and then crossed the street, hurrying out of the snow and into the brightly lit coffee house. Erika found a seat by the window and Peterson returned with two coffees. Erika could see the Christmas displays in the shop windows opposite, and the canopy of Christmas lights strung above Regent Street. They took a sip of the hot coffee and watched the busy street.

‘So, we’ve got Joseph Pitkin, who stalked and photographed Marissa on several occasions and then filmed her, we think at her request, to blackmail Don Walpole?’ started Erika.

‘We have Ivan Stowalski, who was obsessed with her, willing to leave his wife at Christmas and go off with her to New York, and he tried to kill himself,’ said Peterson.