Cold Justice (Willis/Carter #4)(25)

Carter finished the call. On the way to drop Willis back at her place, she read out the details Robbo had already sent on Raymonds.

‘Nicknamed “the Sheriff”. He was well thought of, kept local crime rates down. He was pretty “old school” in his approach by the looks of it. A couple of complaints on record for excessive use of force in restraining suspects. Charges dropped in all cases.’

‘Personally speaking,’ said Carter, ‘that’s whetted my appetite for getting up at five to head off to Cornwall in February. I’m looking forward to meeting him.’

He drove up Holloway Road and parked as near as he could get to the pub. He didn’t feel enthusiastic. He checked his watch. He wished he’d made Chief Inspector Bowie agree to meet at Fletcher House, but Bowie had been desperate for a drink. True to form, Bowie was necking back a large Scotch when he found him at the bar. Carter ordered a glass of white wine and they moved to a table out of earshot of the few punters.

‘Haven’t we got anything else? The media are going to get wind of you down in Cornwall pretty quick,’ Bowie said, shaking his head.

‘No. It’s been over twenty-four hours and we haven’t found Samuel. We’ve had a thousand officers searching door to door, bin to bin, searching nonstop. He isn’t here. Whoever took him left Greenwich pretty quick. We have the mittens outside Bristol en route.’

‘But to Cornwall?’

‘There is no way he could be headed for a port – we have them all covered. He didn’t get on the Eurostar. This is narrowing it down now for us. He is headed somewhere specific in the UK. If he just wanted to kill or abuse he would have done it and dumped the body,’ replied Carter.

‘Could still have done that.’

‘Yes, but we have sniffer dogs all round the services. We have search teams looking for any more of Samuel’s clothing, but so far it’s just the mittens.’

‘Why those?’ asked Bowie.

‘I don’t know. The idea must have been to disguise his identity. But, why go to that trouble if you mean to kill him quickly? We know they can’t leave the UK now,’ said Carter.

‘Except by private plane or boat,’ Bowie cautioned.

‘Granted, but we have small airfields alerted to any out of the ordinary activity or requests to use.’

‘There are so many loose ends here, Carter. Did Jeremy Forbes-Wright have some sort of relationship with the village of Penhal? Seems unlikely.’

‘Yes, I think there was a hint of a threat coming Toby’s way at the funeral. It’s like this village came up to remind Toby of some commitment he had to them. More a show of strength than sympathy. He seems unable to remember most of the funeral.’

‘Even though he doesn’t know them, and didn’t know his father from Adam?’ replied Bowie.

‘Yes, even though,’ answered Carter. ‘And now we hear that Samuel seems to have been taken in that direction.’

‘What’s the truth about JFW’s finances?’ asked Bowie.

‘We’ve got access to all his bank statements. Basically, he was broke. All he had was this big house in Cornwall. He spent a fortune living the high life on a politician’s wages.’

‘What’s the house in Cornwall worth?’

‘Close to a million.’

‘Why didn’t he sell the house if he needed the money?’ asked Bowie.

‘That’s the question, isn’t it? I’m hoping to find that out,’ said Carter. ‘Did you hear specifics about him?’

Bowie nodded. ‘Back in the day, when I infiltrated the paedophile ring that made money from supplying kids from care homes to prominent politicians – he was on the edge of that inner circle. It was never enough to open a case against him. Helping to bring down one part of the operation felt like a massive achievement at the time, ten years ago,’ said Bowie. ‘Just a shame that all we did was pick off the scab.’ He picked up his drink and swirled the last of the Scotch round the glass. He smiled ruefully. ‘Disappointing to have him top himself – he took the coward’s way out.’

‘Looks like it. DC Willis and I will drive down first thing tomorrow. If it leads nowhere, I’ll be back soon as. The fact remains that several people travelled up from Cornwall to come to a funeral of a man that most of them should have despised – second-home owner and probably a posh paedophile,’ said Carter.

‘I doubt the reason has anything to do with the missing child,’ said Bowie, visibly wilting from the whisky. ‘More about country folk wanting a day out and maybe hoping the rich guy in the village would leave them something in his will. Willis is a good one to cut through the bullshit.’

‘What about Willis? She passed her sergeant’s exams over a year ago. Is it going to happen for her?’

‘She’d stand a better chance if she went out into the sticks. She’s going to have to wait a long time to get a promotion in an MIT team.’

‘She has her whole career in the Met mapped out,’ said Carter. ‘She’s already beginning to think she’s failed because she hasn’t been promoted to sergeant. If the force loses someone like Ebony they lose a precious resource. No one understands life like her. Willis is one of the best.’ Carter breathed deeply. He suddenly felt the need to get home; the drink had begun to dull Bowie’s senses. He wasn’t looking forward to going to the flat, but he wanted to see the mess for himself; then he’d head over to Cabrina’s parents’ place before it got too late.