(2013) The Catch Page 13

  They filed through to the kitchen. Gordon’s beloved Sony Vaio laptop was up and running on the table. Setting his bag down beside it, Jerry glanced at the coffee maker and muttered – with reckless courage, Gordon thought – ‘I’m parched.’

  Ignoring the hint, Patricia dragged the bag away from him and opened it up. ‘This is Hank’s laptop?’

  ‘Yeah. I ain’t had a chance to look at it yet—’

  She peered into the bag. ‘Where’s the camera? You’re two hours late and you’ve forgotten to bring the damn camera!’

  ‘Hang on a minute—’

  ‘No, Jerry, I won’t “hang on”. This is intolerable. It makes me wonder why we ever believed we could entrust you with ...’

  Gordon took a step towards his wife, fearing he might have to physically restrain her, but Jerry had stepped out of her range and was dredging the pocket of his too-tight jeans, performing what looked like a squirming dance before his hand emerged and he slapped a tiny square of plastic on to the table.

  ‘Memory card.’

  Patricia regarded it for a long second. ‘I see.’

  ‘You don’t need the camera. Pictures are on there.’

  ‘Yes.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Well, let’s examine it, shall we? Gordon will make you a coffee.’

  At first Jerry didn’t move, and Gordon wondered if he would demand an apology: the mouse that roared.

  Then he nodded brusquely, pulled out a chair and said, ‘Two sugars, ta.’

  ****

  It was ironic, as Gordon was to reflect later, that Patricia’s initial outburst ending up saving Jerry’s skin. The misunderstanding over the camera served to dilute her anger, so that when the moment came she lacked the appetite for another tirade.

  Because the results of last night’s expedition were a disappointment. The memory card yielded a single photograph, a poor-quality shot of a car that was undeniably a BMW. Gordon enlarged the photo to 150%, then to 200%, but the number plate remained unclear, a maddening blur of shapes that might have included a B, a 2, possibly a W.

  They were staring at the screen in dismay when Jerry, perhaps emboldened by his earlier moral victory, said, ‘I know you can’t read it too well, but I was thinking you could get it enhanced somewhere. They reckon NASA have software that—’

  ‘We’re not minded to involve NASA, now, are we?’ Patricia said.

  Jerry gave a half-hearted shrug. ‘I dunno.’

  ‘What about utilising this little gizmo?’ Patricia tapped her skull. ‘Why didn’t you memorise the number?’

  ‘It was too quick. Anyway, I thought the picture was gonna come out fine.’

  ‘You should always have a backup plan. Always.’

  Gordon decided it fell to him to stay positive. ‘We have something here, at least.’

  Patricia snorted. ‘Only in as much as Stemper got this exactly right. Which demonstrates the wisdom of having him on board.’

  Jerry wore a grim look. ‘So I’m off the case, am I?’ To Gordon’s ear, he didn’t sound entirely unhappy at the prospect.

  ‘Not unless you wish to sever your relationship with us?’ Patricia asked.

  ‘No, of course I don’t—’

  ‘Good. Because I’m sure you’ll have an opportunity to redeem yourself. Beginning with this.’

  She nodded towards O’Brien’s laptop. Gordon opened it up and pressed the power button. Jerry, still uneasy, scratched his head fiercely enough to make Patricia wince.

  ‘But I’m gonna be working alongside Stemper?’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  As Patricia focused her attention on the laptop, Jerry glanced in Gordon’s direction, as if hoping to share a moment of fellow feeling. Gordon pretended not to notice.

  ‘Great,’ said Jerry weakly.

  CHAPTER 30

  Cate bought a cappuccino and retreated to the furthest recesses of the cafe, ignoring vacant tables at the front. She was meeting DS Thomsett for the second day running and her instinct was to find somewhere discreet.

  Despite her best efforts to shrug it off, last night’s conversation with Dan and Robbie kept playing on her mind. It was hard to define exactly what made her feel uncomfortable. She had asked them, quite bluntly, if they were involved in O’Brien’s death, and they had denied it outright.

  She tried to remind herself that, whatever reservations she might have about her brother’s honesty, she had none where Dan was concerned. He had been at the wheel, not Robbie; therefore his denial ought to be good enough for her. It was time to stop torturing herself with pointless speculation.

  ****

  The detective had requested an urgent meeting. He’d sounded slightly irritable on the phone. To avoid office gossip she’d suggested they meet at Giardino’s, one of the cafes in the food hall on the top floor of the Churchill Square shopping centre.

  It was almost eleven o’clock. The cafe was only moderately busy, though there was a constant stream of teenagers and young mums passing to and from the McDonald’s across the way. Cate added a single sugar to her coffee, wishing she could have more, then noticed she’d received a text.

  It was from Martin: one of the puerile jokes he liked to dispatch to his entire address book. Cate knew he’d deleted her number during their acrimonious separation, so he must have restored it – perhaps after his visit on Tuesday night. Evidently she was back in favour, but whether that fact pleased her or not she couldn’t actually say.

  She looked up and saw DS Thomsett walking into view past the cafe’s stand of complimentary balloons. He gave her a taut smile and indicated the shelves of pastries at the counter: Did she want anything? She shook her head.

  He was wearing a charcoal suit with a crisp white shirt and a spotted purple tie. Boots rather than shoes, and they were dark brown, not black. His hair was a little more tousled than before, as though he’d been running his hands through it. Even while buying coffee, his posture exuded authority. You would not underestimate this man, Cate thought. You would not lie to him.

  Except that she was lying to him. She was lying to a police officer in a fatal-accident investigation ...

  He picked up his tray. As he approached, Cate took a deep breath, willing herself to be calm. Thankfully there was no sign of his sidekick, Avery.

  ‘Hi, there,’ he said.

  ‘Morning – oh, you’ve got tea!’

  ‘Yes.’ He gave her a curious look. ‘Is that permitted?’

  ‘Of course. It’s just ... don’t most people drink coffee these days?’

  He frowned, as if correctly deducing he was in the presence of a madwoman. ‘Coffee’s trendier, I suppose. But I’ve always preferred tea.’

  ‘I like the aroma, but not the taste.’ Cate laughed, far too heartily for such an innocuous comment. She wasn’t just making an idiot of herself; she was betraying her nerves, giving Thomsett reason to wonder why she was so jittery.

  He sat down opposite her, deftly transferring the contents of his tray to the table. He’d bought a couple of croissants, and invited her to share them.

  ‘Have to eat when you get the chance in this job,’ he said with a rueful smile.

  ‘Mm. I know the feeling.’

  ‘Well, you’ve probably gathered that I didn’t ask you here to debate the relative merits of hot beverages.’ The smile had vanished, and there was a wary look in his eyes. ‘This money you gave to Mr O’Brien, three thousand pounds in a brown envelope?’

  Cate nodded, struggling to make out his voice over a sudden ringing in her ears.

  ‘It was found this morning, in the field beyond the accident site.’

  ****

  He said nothing more. Cate waited, perplexed, and then said, ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’

  ‘It should be. Except that yesterday the field in question – the whole area, in fact – underwent an extremely thorough search.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Normally in this situation the SOCOs would get hauled over the coals. But they’re
trained to find the smallest traces of evidence, like glass fragments, flecks of paint. I don’t see them missing an A5 envelope, do you?’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘The other notable fact is that the money was found by a farmer.’ He tore off a piece of croissant and popped it into his mouth. ‘The same man who discovered the body yesterday morning.’

  ‘Do you think he’d pocketed the money ...?’

  ‘Then got cold feet and put it back.’ Thomsett nodded. ‘It’s plausible. DC Avery is interviewing him as we speak. He has rather a knack for frightening people.’

  It was said with a chuckle, but did he also send her a warning look? Cate could feel a cold dread crawling over her skin.

  She said, ‘This farmer, you don’t believe he had anything to do with O’Brien’s death?’

  ‘I doubt it. But if he’s hiding something, we’ll know soon enough.’ Another chunk of croissant was consumed, quickly but with a certain delicacy. Thomsett dabbed a napkin to his lips. ‘That drizzle overnight hasn’t done us any favours. The envelope was wet and muddy, so it might not yield any prints.’

  ‘That’s a shame.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see. They can work miracles these days. Correct me if I’m wrong, but what we should find on there is the farmer’s, Hank O’Brien’s, and yours. And your brother’s, presumably, if you were meeting Mr O’Brien on his behalf?’

  Cate nodded. ‘And other people from his office, potentially.’

  ‘So four lots of prints, minimum. Compton’s is just along Foundry Street, isn’t it?’

  ‘Frederick Street. That’s the one above Foundry.’ Cate felt sick. Would it look suspicious to ask where he was going with this, or was it more suspicious not to ask?

  ‘Perhaps I’m being dim, but I don’t see how testing the envelope will help in the search for the driver who hit O’Brien.’

  ****

  There was a moment of heavy silence, in part because Thomsett had the cup of tea at his mouth, and his eyes seemed to shine with regret. Cate felt sure that somehow, inadvertently, she had incriminated herself.

  The detective swallowed. ‘You’re not dim. The truth is, it probably won’t help at all. But the fact we only found it this morning is an anomaly, and therefore it has to be investigated. Same with the traces of paint on Mr O’Brien’s clothing. It’s gone off for analysis, but without more debris at the scene there’s little chance of pinpointing the vehicle.’ He sighed. ‘So now it’s down to the TV appeal.’

  ‘TV appeal?’ Cate echoed.

  ‘I featured on the local news this morning. Didn’t you see it?’

  ‘No. I don’t usually watch ...’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. Alexander Armstrong can sleep easy.’ He grinned, but she saw a hint of disappointment that she’d missed it. ‘There was one spot of good news, though. The couple who were dining in the pub have come forward and confirmed your account of the altercation. They also remember seeing your Audi in the car park.’

  Somehow Cate managed a wry smile. ‘I bet that came as a blow to DC Avery.’

  Thomsett chose that moment to take another drink, and didn’t respond. ‘Unfortunately they couldn’t tell us much about the men who broke up the fight. We’ve got the barmaid helping us put together e-fits this afternoon—’

  ‘I have a meeting with some insurers, I’m afraid.’ Seeing his face, Cate paused. Felt herself blush. ‘I mean, if you wanted me to ...’

  ‘It’s fine. What I will do is ask you to take a look at the images and tell us if you think they’re accurate.’

  ‘Oh, right. Okay.’

  Thomsett finished off the first croissant and pushed the plate in her direction. ‘Sure you won’t have some? Feels rude to be eating alone.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She took a small piece: if nothing else it was a distraction.

  Thomsett looked pleased. ‘You probably know yourself, witness evidence is notoriously unreliable. You end up with a suspect who’s tall and short, fat and thin, blond and dark, bearded and clean-shaven ...’

  ‘It doesn’t arise as much in my line of work. Civil law, it’s mostly accidents, compensation claims. We rarely have to do identity parades.’

  ‘You’ve got it cushy,’ he said, teasing her. ‘You never fancied getting down and dirty on the criminal side?’

  ‘I considered it, but the idea of being called to a police station at three in the morning didn’t appeal.’

  ‘I don’t blame you. Plays havoc with your personal life, too.’ A micro-pause, but both of them took note of it. ‘Are you married? Living with someone?’

  She narrowed her eyes, not maliciously but to show her surprise. ‘Is that an official question?’

  ‘Nope. Just general nosiness on my part.’

  ‘I was married,’ she said. ‘We divorced last year.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry. Same here, two years ago. Weekend dad.’

  She liked the fact that he didn’t try to sound jocular; instead the pain was there to see and hear.

  ‘For us, one of the saving graces was that we didn’t have children.’ Cate heard her voice wobble: dangerous territory, girl. She picked up her phone to check the time, remembering the silly text from Martin. ‘If there’s nothing else, I’d better be going ...’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Thomsett stood up and they shook hands. ‘I’ll be in touch with those e-fits, then. And watch out for me on the box. I’m hoping they’ll repeat it on tonight’s news.’

  ‘Yes. I will.’

  ‘Let’s hope we get a lucky break, eh?’ He smiled, perhaps quite innocuously, but to Cate it seemed to say: I know what you’re hiding, and you’re not going to get away with it ...

  CHAPTER 31

  Willie Denham was a small, rotund man, with thick white hair and a neatly trimmed white beard. He had kind eyes and ruddy cheeks and he reminded Dan of Richard Attenborough, circa Jurassic Park.

  He was quietly spoken, too, but his gentle, twinkly manner concealed a savage desire to protect the family business. Over the years Dan had seen a number of staff make the assumption that the boss was a soft touch, and none of them had survived for long.

  Normally Denham’s fondness for floor-walking and deceptively innocuous chat didn’t worry Dan at all. He was proud of his sales team and knew they wouldn’t let him down. Today, though, he couldn’t shake off the conviction that Denham had rumbled him.

  It was bad enough that every TV in the store exerted a terrible grip. The 24-hour news sites were the worst, although none so far had featured the hit-and-run. Dan was now dreading the lunchtime news, when both BBC and ITV would broadcast local bulletins.

  If there was one tiny consolation, it was that Hayley wouldn’t be there to see them. She’d pointedly informed him that she was meeting her best friend, Miranda, who worked in a bank in North Street. Dan had no doubt that his erratic behaviour would be high on the agenda. While outwardly pleasant, Miranda was an emotional vampire, and this current crisis would give her plenty to feast on.

  ‘Slow day.’

  Dan jumped. Denham had materialised at his side. Because of the height difference, Dan found himself looking down at a small bald patch on the older man’s crown. There was a sprinkling of dandruff on the shoulder of his suit jacket.

  ‘Afraid so,’ he said.

  ‘Thursdays are always unpredictable, of course. Weather’s neither one thing nor the other ...’ Denham peered in the direction of the windows, the shop momentarily darkening as a bus rumbled past. ‘But I dare say things will pick up, given time.’

  Dan half turned, as if scanning the shop for a cluster of hitherto unseen customers. It was about as rude a dismissal as he dared, but Denham merely stood in silence, nodding to himself. Several excruciating seconds passed before he spoke again.

  ‘You know, I do feel you’re—’

  ‘Dan! Phone for you!’ It was one of the assistants, Maisie, who hadn’t noticed Denham’s presence. ‘Somebody called Cate?’

  Apologising to his boss, Dan hurrie
d away. When he reached the office he glanced back and saw a troubled-looking Denham gazing in his direction.

  ‘Dan?’ The tone of Cate’s voice made his stomach lurch. ‘They’ve found the money.’

  ‘Have they?’ Dan thought he sounded fairly normal, under the circumstances. He felt confident enough to add: ‘Good to hear it.’

  ‘That’s what I said. But DS Thompsett doesn’t think it adds up.’

  ‘It was the wrong amount?’ he blurted. Robbie must have palmed a few notes ...

  ‘No, I don’t mean that. He says the whole area was searched the day before.’

  ‘That’s a bit strange.’ Now he was beginning to doubt his delivery. Gauging the right level of concern was almost impossible.

  The office door opened and Tim Masters, the service manager, came in. Nodding at Dan, he sat down at the adjacent desk and began riffling through a stack of invoices. Dan turned away from him and said quietly, ‘In that case, I guess someone slipped up.’

  ‘Maybe. Although Thomsett has other theories.’

  ‘I see. Look, I’d like to hear more but it’s a bit tricky right now.’

  ‘I know what you mean. Are you free to meet after work? Same place as yesterday, six o’clock?’

  ‘Fine.’ He put the phone down, and told himself that this wasn’t too bad. He’d wanted the police to find the money, and they had.

  ‘Interview, is it?’

  Dan gave a start. Tim wore a sly smile as he gestured at the phone.

  ‘You can tell me, chum. Who’s poached you?’

  ‘No one.’ Dan knew his denials would fall on deaf ears. Tim was not only notoriously indiscreet, but he also behaved as though he and Dan were in competition, even though Denham was scrupulously fair in his treatment of the two departments. It didn’t help that, during Dan and Hayley’s brief separation, she had dated Tim for a while, claiming afterwards that it had been more a friendship than a romance.

  ‘Good luck!’ Tim called as Dan left the office. ‘Just don’t let the old man get wind of it till you’re ready to walk out the door.’