Immediately, Grace knew he shouldn’t have said that, but it was too late to retract it.
Rigg’s face darkened. ‘We’re in the middle of a bloody recession. Businesses in this city are hurting. Tourist trade is down. Brighton’s had an unwarranted reputation as the crime capital of the UK for seven decades and we are trying to do something about it, to reassure people this city is as safe as anywhere on the planet to visit. The last thing we need is the bloody American Mafia headlining in the press here.’
‘We have a good relationship with the
‘You are, are you?’
Rigg was starting to look angry. It was the first time Grace had seen this side of him.
‘I think if we handle them carefully and give them plenty of information in advance of the national press, yes, we can, sir.’
‘So what about this reward?’
The word hit Grace like a sledgehammer. ‘Reward?’ he asked, surprised.
‘Reward. Yes.’
‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean, sir.’
Rigg waved a hand, summoning Grace round to his side of the desk. He leaned forward and tapped on his keyboard, then pointed at his computer screen.
Grace saw the banner THE ARGUS in black letters underlined in red. Beneath were the words: Latest Headlines. Updated 9.25 a.m.
MAFIA BOSS’S DAUGHTER OFFERS
$100,000 REWARD FOR SON’S KILLER
His heart sinking, he read on:
Fernanda Revere, daughter of New York Mafia Capo Sal Giordino, currently serving 11 consecutive life sentences for murder, this morning told
Police are appealing for witnesses. Inspector James Biggs of Hove Road Policing Unit said, ‘We are anxious to trace the driver of a white Ford Transit van involved in the collision, which drove off at speed immediately after. It was a callous act.’
‘You know what I particularly don’t like in this piece, Roy?’ Grace had a pretty good idea. ‘The wording of the reward, sir?’ Rigg nodded. ‘
‘It could just be that the woman was tired – and it wasn’t actually what she meant to say.’
Even before he had finished, Grace knew this sounded lame.
Rigg looked back at him reproachfully. ‘Last time we spoke, you told me you had this reporter, Spinella, in your pocket.’
At that moment, Grace could happily have killed Spinella with his bare hands. In fact a quick death would be too good for the man.
‘Not exactly, sir. I told you that I had forged a good working relationship with him, but I was concerned that he had a mole somewhere inside Sussex Police. I think this proves it.’
‘It proves something very different to me, Roy.’
Grace looked at him, feeling very uncomfortable suddenly.
Rigg went on, ‘It tells me that my predecessor, Alison Vosper, was right when she said I should keep a careful eye on you.’
29
Grace drove out of the police headquarters and threaded his way around the outskirts of Brighton towards the hospital, seething with anger and feeling totally humiliated.
All the goodwill he’d built up with ACC Rigg on his previous case, the hunt for a serial rapist, was now down the khazi. He had hoped the spectre of Alison Vosper had gone away for good, but now he realized to his dismay that she had left a poisonous legacy after all.
He dialled Kevin Spinella’s mobile phone number on his hands-free. The reporter answered almost immediately.
‘You’ve just blown all the goodwill you ever had with me and with HQ CID,’ Grace said furiously.
‘Detective Superintendent Grace, why – whatever’s the matter?’ He sounded a tad less cocky than usual.
‘You bloody well know what the issue is. Your front-page splash.’
‘Oh – ah – right – yeah, that.’ Grace could hear a clacking sound, as if the man was chewing gum.
‘I can’t believe you’ve been so damned irresponsible.’
‘We published it at Mrs Revere’s request.’
‘Without bothering to speak to anyone on the inquiry team?’
There was a silence for some moments, then, sounding meeker by the moment, Spinella said, ‘I didn’t think it was necessary.’
‘And you didn’t think about the consequences? When the police put up a reward it is in the region of five thousand pounds. What do you think you are going to achieve with this? Do you want the streets of Brighton filled with vigilantes driving around in pick-up trucks with gun racks on their roofs? It may be the way Mrs Revere does things in her country, but it’s not how we do it here, and you’re experienced enough to know that.’
‘Sorry if I’ve upset you, Detective Superintendent.’
‘You know what? You don’t sound at all sorry. But you will be. This’ll come back to bite you, I can promise you that.’
Grace hung up, then returned a missed call from Glenn Branson.
‘Yo, old-timer!’ the Detective Sergeant said, before Grace had a chance to get a word out. ‘Listen, I just realized something.
‘
Branson sounded crestfallen. ‘Oh, you’re there already.’
‘Yep, sorry to ruin your morning.’ Grace decided not to spoil his rare moment of one-upmanship on films with his friend by revealing his source. Then rapidly changing the subject, he asked, ‘What’s happening?’
‘We got doorstepped outside the mortuary by that shit Spinella. I imagine there’ll be something in the
‘There’s already something in the online edition,’ Grace said.
Then he told him the gist of the piece, his dressing-down from ACC Rigg and his conversation just now with the reporter.
‘I’m afraid I couldn’t do anything, boss. He was right outside the mortuary, knew exactly who they were and took them aside.’
‘Who tipped him off?’
‘Must have been dozens of people who knew the parents were coming over. Not just in CID – could have been someone in the hotel. I’ll say one thing about Spinella, he’s a grafter.’
Grace did not reply for a moment. Sure, it could easily have been someone at the hotel. A porter getting the occasional bung for tipping off the paper. Perhaps that’s all it was. But there was just too much consistency about Spinella always being in the right place at the right time.
