The Fourth Friend (DI Jackman & DS Evans #3)(16)
Ruth Crooke was shrewd, and very aware of what went on in her division. She was also straight-laced, and everything had to be done by the book. She had been an awesome and very active copper in her early years, and then when she finally made superintendent, she found that the post suited her. Although she would never admit it, she revelled in the bureaucracy. She understood all about service performance indicators, information cascades and the rest of that rubbish. Somehow, despite the red tape, the budgets, targets and flow charts she managed to keep the division ticking over.
Marie just could not understand why Ruth Crooke persisted in holding Carter back. Whatever, right now she felt genuinely sorry for the super. ‘Pound to a penny, ma’am, if you think someone was there, he was there.’
‘I appreciate your confidence, Sergeant. I just wish I felt as sure myself.’ She turned away. ‘Tell McLean to come to my office when he gets in, if you would.’
‘Yes, of course.’
Marie felt decidedly unsettled.
*
Danny Hurley looked out of place. Under the watchful eye of the shop assistant, he wandered around the upmarket handmade chocolate shop looking for the right gift. He took a while to decide on the right box and the gift wrapping, and then he paid the uneasy girl with a fifty pound note. She made sure to test it under the light box.
‘She must be very special,’ she said.
Danny’s eyes lit up. ‘Believe me, darling, she is.’
He left the shop and sauntered over to the bridge. He stood for a while at the bottom of the ramp, listening to a busker playing a guitar. Danny clicked his fingers and swayed to the beat. When the song ended, Danny threw a tenner into the open guitar case. ‘Sweet, man. Really sweet.’ He nodded appreciatively and walked off. The amazed musician grabbed the note and stared after him.
Another man joined Danny on the bridge and they walked together in silence until they reached the far bank. They strolled a little way along the riverside path until they came to a wooden bench where they sat in silence, staring at the slow moving water. The other man looked thin, unhealthy, with lank hair and skin like unbaked dough.
Danny glanced around briefly, reached into his trouser pocket and took out an envelope. Wordlessly, he passed it to the man, who put it in his pocket without looking at it. ‘Same as before?’ he muttered.
‘No.’ Danny nodded towards the university buildings, further along the towpath. ‘Her car this time. Red Citroen Saxo.’ In a whisper, he gave him the registration number and handed over a pass card and a key. ‘The card will get you in to the Emerson House car park, west side. She parks along the back row. Their CCTV is rubbish, just two cameras for the whole area. Go in at one forty exactly and you are clear for one minute fifty-five seconds. Plus, if she’s being watched by the Old Bill, they are coming up to shift change, so you’re safe as houses. Got it?’
‘Understood.’
Danny handed him the gift. ‘Place this in the passenger footwell, and be careful, they cost a bloody arm and a leg.’
The man gave a lecherous gap-toothed grin. ‘This bird really must be the dog’s bollocks.’
Danny glared at him. ‘You have no idea what she means to me. Now shut the fuck up and go earn your money.’
Danny made his way back down the path, seething with anger. His next job would be to find himself a different runner. No one made comments like that about his girl. No one.
*
Carter fought hard to concentrate, but lack of sleep and Ray’s final request were playing havoc with his brain. If it weren’t for the super’s “problem,” he might have thrown a sickie and tried to get his head down for a couple of hours. But after his earlier terse meeting with Crooke, it was clear that taking time off to sleep would not do much for his career. This was not how he had planned his return to full duties. He should be on the Holland case.
He finished his second black coffee and forced himself to focus on Leah Kingfield. Marie was busy scanning through a box of CCTV tapes of Leah’s home address. She trusted no one else to do the job properly, and was ploughing through the whole lot herself.
His mind wandered again. He’d had to dump poor Rosie because of Leah’s problem, and now the young detective was up to her armpits in statements and reports that he should be helping her with. They concerned a complicated drugs case involving a family of villains called Cannon. They were all vermin, especially the eldest son, Louis, who had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the law, and especially how to evade it. Rosie would need to sew everything up tighter than a duck’s backside if she wanted to make the charges stick.
Carter was very good at paperwork. It came naturally to him. His head for figures and his easy grasp of everything from spreadsheets to police law was about the only thing he had to thank his father for.
He scribbled down some points to discuss with Rosie as soon as he was free again, and then his mind wandered back to Ray and his missing money.
Maybe someone had found it already and pocketed it. Nothing would surprise him about the Barratt family. He had been so certain that Ray had concealed the money on the Eva May. Maybe he was on the wrong track altogether, and his mate had done the sensible thing and put it safely away in a bank.
He sighed, picked up the sheet of paper with all his ideas of places to hide money and stared at it morosely. Then he screwed it up and threw it into the waste bin.
Oh, sod it! Come on, Ray. Help me out here, for Joanne’s sake, and for mine. I want to find that bloody money!