Their Lost Daughters (DI Jackman & DS Evans #2)(53)
She was right. For all Jackman knew, some web-foot had already seen pretty blue lights out on the fen and rung the local rag. ‘Sorry, ma’am. Please buy me whatever time you can. Just enough to get the owner of Windrush interviewed and either held or released.’
Ruth Crooke nodded. ‘I’ll do that. Oh, and I’ve asked the other CID officers to reorganise their workloads and offer you whatever support you need, especially with the identification process. Just liaise with them directly. They are all yours.’ She straightened up, and something of the brusque old super returned. ‘Now go and sort out your debriefing, and don’t forget the new directive on psychological trauma. There’s confidential screening and a counselling service available, and it’s down to you to actively encourage anyone who is affected by this to talk to the shrink as soon as possible.’
Right, blow everything out of proportion, and make the ones who have got it all sorted out in their heads feel guilty because they’re not basket cases. ‘I’ll make sure they know their options, ma’am.’ Jackman turned to make his escape.
‘Just keep me abreast of every new development, Rowan. Everything. As it occurs.’
‘Wilco, ma’am.’
*
The debriefing took considerably less time than he had thought it would. Jackman was something of an expert on body language and he felt relieved that none of his officers seemed to be unduly disturbed. He was, after all, dealing with seasoned police men and women, not a bunch of impressionable schoolkids.
He had asked Marie to keep an eye open for anyone she considered to be struggling, but she agreed with him. It was just another job to most of them, only a bit more gruesome. Already the grim jokes had started to do the rounds and under the circumstances, he took that to be a good thing.
‘Who is at the hospital with Emily?’ he asked.
‘A uniformed WPC and one of DI Osborne’s detective constables. Oh, and Stefan found us a Latvian interpreter, just in case she turns out to be the missing EU national from Greenborough. They have instructions to ring you directly there’s any news,’ said Marie. ‘The last report was that she’s still in the resuscitation room, and they have no idea if she’ll pull through.’
Jackman prayed that she would recover. Just a few words, just one name, or a description, and they could nail the bastard that had done this.
The room slowly emptied, until Jackman was left with Marie and Rosie. He glanced at the clock. It was just after nine. ‘It’s too late to do a house-to-house tonight, Rosie, but I want you to organise one for first thing tomorrow. Get a couple of uniforms to go out to Roman Creek and call at all the properties in the surrounding area. There aren’t many, but they need to check them thoroughly, okay?’
Rosie nodded. ‘Will do, boss.’
‘Tell them to be careful. There’s nothing to say this is the work of Broome or Lee. It could be anyone at all. So they should tread carefully and report anything unusual.’ He turned to Marie.
‘The custody sergeant has agreed that we can talk to Broome, as long as we keep it short. He has his codes of practice to consider.’ He pulled a face. ‘Damned PACE, yet again.’
‘So we’d better get to it.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Jackman and Marie sat outside the interview room and waited for Benedict Broome to be brought up from the custody suite.
‘Before we go in, Marie, maybe we should just cram what little information we have on Broome. What do we know?’
Marie opened a thin file. ‘This is what Andy English and Kevin Stoner came up with. It’s not much.’ She stared at the notes. ‘Benedict owns that expensive place on the waterway. He’s been there for over ten years. His housekeeper has a small annexe. She’s been with him from the beginning, apparently, looks after the house, cooks and so on. Other than a gardener who comes in twice a week, that’s it.’
‘What does Benedict Broome do for a living?’
‘It doesn’t say. There’s no mention of any job.’ She read on. ‘There’s a note from PC Goode regarding Broome’s parentage. He says that he’s hit a brick wall trying to trace them.’
‘Sounds like a task for our Max, doesn’t it? Assuming that Broome gives us any satisfactory answers. I just wish Toni Clarkson had not been so heavily drugged. She might have been able to pick either him or Micah Lee out in an identity parade. As it is, all she can recall is that he had weird eyes.’
‘And the word of a kid who had just been fed a bag of “Ooblie” wouldn’t exactly hold water anyway.’ She looked up. ‘Ah, good, it looks like we’re on. The sergeant is beckoning to us.’
‘Right, let’s go see what Mr Benedict Broome can tell us.’
*
Benedict Broome was led into the interview room, but before the custody sergeant handed over to Jackman and Marie, he stepped back outside and said in a low voice, ‘Keep it brief. It’s getting late for a full interview, and I ought to tell you that he’s waived his right to have a solicitor present.’
Marie shrugged. ‘Well, that is his prerogative, but not advisable under the circumstances.’ As they entered the room, she wondered what kind of man they would find.
For the purposes of the tape, Jackman introduced himself, asked Marie and Broome to do the same, and explained the use of the tape recorder. Then he made quite sure that Broome understood the severity of his position.