The Stone Wife by Peter Lovesey

case conference, her red-shoed feet on the desk. Her amblere was tethered to the radiator, feeding from a nosebag, and no one seemed bothered by it.
    He was next aware of the cat’s claws pricking his thighs. The doorbell was ringing. Raffles, startled, had just leapt from his lap. Clearly they had both been dozing. How long, he was unsure.
    He heaved himself out of the chair and jammed his feet into the flip-flops he wore around the house. He still ached from the fall in his office the day before. He shuffled to the door, muttering about people who came calling in the evening. If it was a local politician he’d tell them what they could do with their policies.
    Ingeborg was standing there, hands open in apology. This wasn’t her usual confident manner.
    “I know I should have phoned, guv.”
    “You’d better come in. Something the matter?”
    “No, I just thought this is the best way to see you away from the office.”
    “Coffee?”
    “No, thanks.”
    He showed her into the living room. Raffles had already returned to the warm armchair and was staring at Ingeborg in the way only a cat can, daring her to eject him. She chose another chair.
    And so did Diamond.
    “What’s on your mind?”
    “Am I right in thinking you’d like me to go undercover?”
    “Someone been talking to you?” he said, thinking Halliwell must already have called her at home.
    She shook her head. “I’m the obvious candidate, aren’t I? You only have to look at the rest of the team.”
    He shifted in the chair, unsure where this was leading.
    “But you haven’t actually asked me.”
    “It’s a dangerous job,” he said. “I’d rather have a volunteer. I’m not ordering anyone to take it on.”
    “You definitely need one of us to get among the hard men.”
    He was fully awake now, alert to what she was saying. “That’s true. They’re hard men, all right. Professionals. Admittedly they made a hash of the robbery, but they were carrying guns. We must find out who put them up to it.”
    “But who are they?” Ingeborg said.
    “Inge, you know as well as I do that there’s only one gang in our manor capable of mounting an armed hold-up. In Bristol there are three or four. If I were planning a crime here I wouldn’t hire the local mob. I’d bring in some of the Bristol boys.”
    “I totally agree,” she said. “And it puts one of my doubts to rest. Anyone from here trying to cosy up to the Bath lot runs the risk of being recognised.”
    “What are your other doubts?”
    She sighed. This was clearly difficult for her. “Whoever takes it on has to face up to what happens if some situation arises.”
    “Situation?”
    “Law-breaking.”
    “I get you. How are you going to deal with it if they commit another crime?”
    “Not just me. Anyone. If it comes to court and the undercover cop is found to have aided and abetted, he or she is as guilty as the perpetrators.”
    The “he or she” meant he couldn’t yet count on her.
    “It’s a grey area, I admit,” he said. “That’s why I want someone who can think on their feet. My own feeling is that the law would take a lenient view.”
    “If the cop doesn’t actually fire a shot?”
    “But it doesn’t have to come to that. We’re interested in a killing already committed. It’s about getting their confidence.”
    “Yes, but that could mean joining in some other heist. They’ll look for the recruit to show loyalty and they’ll be suspicious of anyone who doesn’t.”
    Diamond hesitated, searching for the right words. There was an obvious point here, but how could he say it without offending her? “The gang culture is macho, Inge. They’re unlikely to want a woman at the sharp end of a crime. You may not like it, but that’s the real world.”
    “So?”
    “There are other ways of getting on the inside.”
    The look in her eyes wasn’t promising. “Go on.”
    “Using your natural assets.”
    She held up a warning finger. “I knew it would come to that. I