Her Perfect Family(10)

Ice cream. Ice cream. You wait for the password . . .

By the time he reaches the café, he feels inexplicably tired even though it’s barely 11.30 a.m. Mel’s already seated in their favourite alcove.

‘Hi Matt. I’ve ordered coffee and carrot cake for both of us.’

‘Good. You look as if you need both.’ He takes in the dark circles beneath her eyes. ‘So the pressure’s really on then?’

‘Understatement.’ She checks her watch. ‘The suits upstairs and the press office want updates every five bloody minutes.’

‘And you so love politics.’ He’s trying to make her smile but it doesn’t work so he changes gear. ‘OK. So do you have a big enough team?’

‘Well there we do have a surprise. They’re throwing resources at it like you wouldn’t believe. Most unusual. I’m told I’m to do whatever needs to be done, mostly because of the national media crawling all over us. Universities up and down the country are watching like hawks. Everyone wants to know what to do. If this is a one-off. Or some weird new MO.’

‘And what are counterterrorism saying?’

‘All clear. No terror link and no intel so they’re backing right off. First twenty-four hours, there was talk of cancelling every graduation across the country until there was a proper steer. PM in the loop. Now it’s all suddenly changed. I was briefed first thing. They’ve found absolutely nothing. There’s been some big meeting and the new focus is to reassure the public this is not terrorism. My job to make everyone feel safe.’

Matthew at last understands Mel’s demeanour. ‘So all back on your shoulders?’

She just stares at him by way of response as the waitress arrives. They both lean back as the server places down their coffees, apologising as froth spills into one of the saucers.

‘Don’t worry.’ Matthew grabs a paper napkin from a stainless-steel carousel in the centre of the table to mop up the spill; the waitress smiles, saying the cake will be just a couple of minutes. He watches the woman return to the counter.

‘So my immediate problem, quite apart from finding the bastard, is calling what to do about this final graduation.’ Mel stirs the cocoa into the coffee. ‘The university wants to know what to announce. They’ve cancelled the two ceremonies which were supposed to be this week, but we expect to release the cathedral from forensics early next week so they want to know if they should go ahead with next Friday’s ceremony which is the last of the year. My call apparently.’

‘You mean the chancellor doesn’t want it on her shoulders.’

‘Something like that. Quite apart from public confidence, there’s a lot of money at stake. Hotel bookings and so on. Maidstead tourism bosses are panicking. Everyone’s looking to us to buoy confidence and wrap this up. You know how rare shootings are outside of drug crime. Let alone at a major event . . .’

‘OK. So where are you on the forensics?’

‘Your guess was right. The gun was fired up in that balcony. A handgun with a silencer’s the best assumption from all the video footage we’ve reviewed. Just one bullet into the girl’s leg. We’ve recovered the bullet but it’s not giving a lot away.’

‘And the sweep of the balcony?’

‘Unhelpful. Lots of people went up there to take pictures before the ceremony. A million footprints and fingerprints and no matches to anyone on our systems yet.’

‘What about the exit path for the shooter? Anything on the footage?’

‘No. There’s an easy exit from the balcony. A staircase to the lower corridor with a small side door straight outside. It’s tucked away – a bit like the door you used to get in on the other side. Usually locked. Sometimes left open on the quiet for staff which was the case during the ceremony. No CCTV nearby.’

‘OK. Not good.’ He lets out a long, slow breath. ‘So – motive. What are you thinking? Is this personal – to Gemma or the university or the cathedral – or just some lone lunatic?’

‘I honestly have no idea.’ Mel frowns as if weighing something up. She goes to say something but then changes her mind, sipping at her drink.

‘Come on, Mel. You called me so spit it out. You know you can trust me. And like it or not, I’m sort of involved . . .’

‘The victim’s pregnant, Matt. Parents didn’t know. I think her friends may be hiding something. She’d recently broken up with her boyfriend. He’s on my list obviously. Been questioned but nothing on him so far. Word is he fled early on and we’re still checking that against the footage.’

‘Right. Jeez. So do we know for sure who the father is?’

She shakes her head as the waitress places down their cakes and they again wait for her to retreat out of earshot.

‘Not yet. But we both know the pregnancy’s going to come out, Matt. Next round of questioning, it’s bound to leak. Her parents are dreading it.’

‘Yeah. Tough on them – but we can’t help that.’ He watches her scoop some of the topping from the carrot cake on to her fork and suck it, the pleasure of the sweetness lighting up her eyes for just a moment.

‘Anything from her phone and laptop yet? And what about a diary or blog? She studied English, didn’t she? A writer. Could be a diary?’