Cold Revenge (Willis/Carter #6)(48)

‘I would never . . .’ Sandford raised his hands, shook his head. ‘But are you going to ask him if he forgot to pay his apprentice back in 2000?’

‘Carter thinks the same thing.’

Sandford nodded. ‘I think this is all about Douglas, revenge on Douglas. Someone wants us to find something in this field that connects straight to Douglas and keeps him inside with a life sentence that means life. Something that puts him right back into a tiny cell with no privileges, and they know him, or knew him, well.’

Dermot called out to them as he stood at the new grave and loaded more soil into a bucket. ‘We have something here; it’s been put in with the body.’

‘It’s a plastic photo frame,’ said Sandford as he took it out of its bag. ‘The photo is destroyed but there’re marks, looks like someone’s carved “Ash” into the frame.’

‘If this is Ash here, Heather could be with him,’ said Dermot.

‘I don’t think that’s possible,’ said Maxwell.

Dermot looked at him. ‘Why not?’

‘Because the scan would have shown two bodies and it only showed one.’

‘We’ll get this chest removed and finish excavation then we can start on the next grave,’ said Sandford. ‘The last grave shows signs that it may also contain human remains. The woman’s skeleton has been removed now and is on its way to be DNA-tested, let’s hope we get a result soon.’

Willis got a call and stepped aside to take it.

‘Chris, you want to head back up to town now? I can see Douglas today.’

Willis had come to Wandsworth Prison, now transformed into a training establishment for Category C prisoners. The Bad Boys bakery was famous and Jimmy Douglas had spent the last four years excelling as a chef in The Slammer restaurant. It was one of three open to the public to come and dine in.

Willis waited with Officer Kowalski, the guard. He checked her bag, counted in the items. Looking at her curiously he asked, ‘What’s this about?’

‘Thank you,’ she said, returning her items to her backpack with a smile that said ‘no chance’.

‘Okay. You want to take a seat again, Detective Sergeant Willis, he’s being brought over from the kitchens. He’ll be about twenty minutes.’

‘That’s fine. He’s a chef, I believe?’ Willis sat back down to wait.

‘Yes, and a fantastic one too. He made me a special meal when it was my thirtieth. Me and my missus came to eat at The Slammer. I’ve never eaten food like it: braised ducks’ hearts, bone marrow stuffed with liver paté.’ He shook his head. ‘Incredible.’

Willis was nodding politely. ‘Sounds like you know him pretty well?’

‘I suppose so, he’s been here for the last five years and I’ve dealt with him most days. You get to know them, there’s a bit of mutual respect.’

‘Yes, of course, any advice?’

‘He’s no problem; he’s a humble man. He spends a good deal of his time helping the other prisoners, those who have trouble with the basics, like reading and writing. He helps with their letters, and other people come and get his advice about legal stuff they don’t understand. He’s a useful man to break up arguments. He likes peace and quiet, order, good manners. If something kicks off in here, you’ll find him doing his best to calm things down or staying out of trouble in his cell. He accepts every change in routine without question. As long as he can cook and create his dishes, he’s happy.’

‘What if he couldn’t do that?’

‘He wouldn’t like it but he’d adjust. He has a lot of determination. He can stare at the same spot on the wall for days, I’ve seen him do it. He can shut his system down. But I hope that’s not going to happen.’

‘When did you see him do that, stare at the wall?’

‘I think it was when his grandmother died and he wasn’t allowed out for the funeral. He took it hard. He didn’t speak, he just shut down.’

‘I see. Do you ever think he feels remorse for what he did to land him in prison?’

‘I think he does; sixteen years ago, he made a mistake. He’s a different man now.’

‘How is he around women?’

‘Very respectful. He works with them in the kitchens he goes to, and we’ve never had any complaints about his behaviour when he’s on work placement, quite the opposite. He’s charming, people can’t praise him enough.’ Officer Kowalski was staring at her strangely.

‘Is there something you want to ask?’ she asked, intrigued. She wondered if they’d met before, yet she knew they hadn’t. She had a good memory for faces; she had a way of turning them into objects and animals in her mind. Sometimes they crossed over. This guard had the face of a monitor lizard with constant licking of his lips when he talked.

‘No, I don’t think so. Jimmy should be back in his cell now, if you’d like to follow me.’

Douglas’s pretty boy-band looks had turned pudgy and slack-faced in the last few years but his eyes were just as mesmerising: the colour of still seaweed in a deep ocean. His bald head was perfectly smooth and shiny. His stubby hands stretched out on the desk in front of him – working hands, red fingers. He had a slouchy but clean look in grey tracksuit bottoms and a dark grey T-shirt.