I wasn’t going to admit that. I wasn’t able to. I looked beyond him to the row of spirits behind the bar.
‘Why was this man happy to tell you now?’ I said.
‘Timing. New way of doing things. Some familiar faces won’t be hanging around the corridors of power any more…’
I frowned.
‘You mean Simpson’s on his way out? Hmm. Maybe.’ Kate popped into my head. ‘How are we going to tell Kate exactly what’s going on with her father?’
Tingley shrugged.
‘Not my area of expertise.’ He looked across the room. ‘I want you to have a chat with someone I know.’
‘That’s always interesting. Who?’
Tingley gestured towards a table in the opposite corner of the pub.
‘A grass.’
I’d noticed the short, middle-aged man with the comb-over when I’d come in. He was with a strikingly pretty woman, taller than him. She was wearing full make-up and might have had plastic surgery to define that jawline. But there was a puffiness about her face. I’d wondered if she was an alcoholic and he the man who kept her drinking under some kind of control. There was an empty bottle of white wine and two empty glasses on the table alongside two further glasses. His was almost full, hers almost empty. They were doing a crossword in the paper and she was looking bored, but maybe that was because she wanted another drink.
‘What’s he got to say for himself?’
‘Let’s find out,’ Tingley said, leading me across the room.
Sheena Hewitt looked older. The Acting Chief Constable’s face was gaunt and there were dark shadows under her eyes that her inexpertly applied make-up couldn’t conceal.
‘What’s so urgent, Sarah?’ she said, tapping her pen on her desk. She sounded weary, too.
Gilchrist was seated in an uncomfortably low chair to one side of the desk, conscious of her knees sticking up in front of her.
‘I had a further interview with Gary Parker this morning. He told us that the male prostitute known as Little Stevie was attempting to blackmail William Simpson, the government adviser.’
‘He has proof of this?’
‘Not direct proof, no, ma’am.’
‘Then it’s hearsay evidence. There’s nothing to be done with it.’
‘But, ma’am, it’s a lead.’
Hewitt sat back in her seat and dropped the pen on her desk.
‘Sarah, the Milldean affair is old news. The Hampshire investigation has concluded no individuals should be prosecuted. Nobody is publicly pressing for any further enquiry and I don’t intend to stir things up again. Enough damage has been done to the reputation of this force already. My job is to contain it and move on. All the officers involved have left the force, retiring on the grounds of ill-health. You are the lucky one. You are working again.’
Gilchrist was indignant.
‘But, ma’am, that means nobody is being held to account for what happened.’
‘Our lax procedures are largely responsible and we are making strenuous efforts to put new ones in place.’
‘That’s just a whitewash,’ Gilchrist said heatedly. She saw Hewitt’s face. ‘Sorry, ma’am.’
Hewitt leant forward and stabbed her finger at Gilchrist.
‘DS Gilchrist, the Milldean affair is not your case, nor has it ever been. You are meddling in things to the detriment of this force and your other duties. You will desist forthwith or you will face disciplinary procedures. Am I clear?’
Gilchrist’s face was burning with a mixture of anger and frustration.
‘Am I clear?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Then you’re dismissed,’ Hewitt said, picking up her pen and pulling a sheaf of papers towards her.
The woman picked up her glass and went to sit at the bar when Tingley and I approached. The grass’s name was Stewart Nealson. I was expecting him to be shifty but he was articulate and open.
‘Bob here is interested in knowing a bit more about what the families are up to.’
‘What they’re up to?’ Nealson touched his nose. ‘The usual dodges and scams. But they’re under a lot of pressure from outsiders. Specially on the smuggling racket through Newhaven and Shoreham.’
‘What do you hear about Milldean?’ I said.
Nealson looked over at the woman at the bar.
‘A real mess from every side you look at it. And best kept away from.’
‘The Bosnian Serb connection?’ Tingley said.
‘Not a people you want to piss off.’
‘Tell us about it,’ I murmured. Tingley and I had not enjoyed our Bosnian tour.
‘And Hathaway and Cuthbert?’
‘Not involved, as far as I’m aware. Though Cuthbert’s on the warpath for you, Jimmy. You need to watch out.’
A thought occurred to me.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about Cuthbert in relation to Ditchling last night, have you?’
Nealson smoothed down his comb-over.
‘Well, he would have been in the neighbourhood. He always goes to Plumpton races – prefers it over the jumps to flat-racing. Plus he has a bit of business going on, of course.’
I exchanged a glance with Tingley.
I thanked Nealson and we left about five minutes later.
‘How’s he connected to the gangs?’ I said as we walked through the Laines. ‘Seems too straight.’
‘Accountant,’ Tingley replied. ‘Strictly legit and only handles their legit businesses, but he hears things.’
‘Taking a bit of a risk, isn’t he?’
‘His missus has expensive habits. Most of what he makes goes up her nose or down her gullet.’
I was contemplating her ruined beauty when my mobile rang.
‘Gilchrist,’ I mouthed to Tingley.
‘Had another meeting with Gary Parker,’ she said.
‘And?’
‘He gave us William Simpson’s name. I told Hewitt. She’s not interested.’
‘I’ve a feeling we can do something,’ I said. ‘I feel certain we’re closing in.’
‘That’s not my feeling,’ she said. ‘My feeling is that we don’t have a clue what’s going on.’
‘We have clues aplenty. It’s fitting them together that’s the problem. Let’s meet later at Kate’s place.’
Gilchrist ended the call. She was lying on the bed in Kate’s spare room. She was restless. She jackknifed off the bed and went over to the chest of drawers to change. She opened the top drawer and saw the framed photos lying face down. Absently, she turned them over.
I eventually found a parking space near Kate’s flat – Brighton is not car-friendly – and walked the few hundred yards to her door, working out what I needed to say to her. When she buzzed me in, Gilchrist was sitting on the sofa. Gilchrist gave me an intense look.
‘Kate,’ I said. ‘You don’t need to worry about this stuff that’s going on now. It’s nothing to do with that scare you had.’
‘Are you excluding me?’ Kate said.
‘Just didn’t want to bore you,’ I said. ‘You’re in if you want to be.’
‘Let me find some booze,’ she said, disappearing into the kitchen.
‘Something I want to show you in my bedroom,’ Gilchrist hissed at me.
‘You haven’t found the head in there, have you?’
She looked totally thrown.
‘The Trunk Murder victim?’ I said. ‘Forget it – bad joke.’
Gilchrist looked exasperated.
