photograph during this period or before; accounts of any unusual incidents in or around the shop during the period; accounts of any unusual incidents in the service road areas and service corridors during the period. Questions with both open and hidden intent, hoping to draw out witnesses, observations, insights, but also designed to sniff out discrepancies, and to harvest names to match against the roll-call of known offenders.
Then Brock asked Phil, their action manager, to distribute the plans provided by Harry Jackson, and to read out the lists of officers’ names and the sections of the centre each would cover. Later there would be an exhibits officer and a statement reader and all the other stock characters from the cast of a major investigation, if indeed that was what this was to be. Because of course it could still turn out to be something altogether simpler and cruder than they were assuming. A tiff, a rape, even a mugging, done on impulse and readily uncovered, the compactor a panicked improvisation.
As the briefing broke up, Lowry said to Brock, ‘Could I have a quick word, chief, off the record?’ He sounded uncharacteristically tentative.
Brock looked up. ‘Certainly.’ He raised his eyebrows at Kathy beside him, who began to move away.
‘No, I don’t mind Kathy hearing it. In fact I’d prefer if she did.’
‘All right. I know the problem. You haven’t got enough men to do a thorough search.’
Lowry shrugged. ‘That’s true.’
‘Do what you can, Gavin, and as quickly as you can. If the killer took that much trouble to dispose of the body, the chances of him leaving her clothing behind are slim. It also seems unlikely that there would have been blood stains. Our best chance is that someone noticed something unusual, so I want your team to do a reasonable search as fast as possible, then join the others interviewing staff.’
‘Sure, I understand. That wasn’t what I wanted to ask you. It’s awkward really. I’m in a slightly difficult spot.’
Lowry stared at his shoes. Brock said nothing.
‘Mr Forbes has asked me to report to him, on a daily basis, chief. On the progress of the investigation. Without reference to you. I don’t feel comfortable about it.’
‘I see.’ Brock looked annoyed. ‘Did you tell him that?’
‘No, sir. At the time I didn’t think too much about it. We’ve known each other a few years, him and me. But I can see now that I’d be putting myself in a false position. Like a spy.’
‘Yes… well, I’ll speak to him. All right?’
Lowry hung his head. ‘Thing is, he’ll be annoyed I mentioned it to you. I wondered if you might put it to him that you brought the subject up first-asked me straight out if I’d been asked to report independently, and I had to admit that I had.’
Brock gave a little snort. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll do it tactfully.’
‘Thanks, chief. Thanks a lot.’
Lowry nodded and left. When he was behind Brock he glanced back and gave Kathy another of his guarded little smiles.
‘Well,’ Brock grunted at Kathy. ‘What do you make of him?’
‘I think we’re making him nervous. Bren knows him, apparently. Maybe you should ask him. Lowry thinks they’re very alike.’
Brock caught the intonation, raised his eyebrows and turned back to his paperwork.
Behind him the room was emptying, men and women, both uniformed and plainclothes, collecting clipboards and interview kits as they went out to find their designated areas.
Kathy returned to the Herbert Morrison estate after the briefing, her task to find out more about Kerri Vlasich. She parked in one of the visitor parking spaces inside Primrose Court, skirted the exploded TV set on the ground and walked up to the first deck level. A woman she didn’t recognise, a neighbour, answered the door and led her inside.
Alison Vlasich was seated in an armchair, motionless and very pale. When she lifted her face to Kathy her expression was blank, the empty stare signifying that nothing mattered any more. She didn’t even recognise Kathy, who had to explain they had met the previous day. After ten fruitless minutes Kathy got to her feet. The neighbour could tell her nothing useful, and she left.
She made her way along the access deck to the next court, Crocus. Naomi’s front door was decorated with a Christmas holly wreath, the effect of its bright red plastic berries and sparkly message, YULETIDE GREETINGS, marred somewhat by the signature of the yobs graffiti gang sprayed in black aerosol across it.
The woman who answered the door responded immediately to Kathy’s ID, as if she’d been expecting her. She was in her sixties, Kathy judged, hair pulled hard back from her face and thin framed glasses giving her a serious, slightly strained appearance.
‘Do come in,’ she said, speaking softly. ‘We wondered if you’d come again, after we heard.’
‘You know about Kerri, then? Mrs Parr, is it?’
‘No, Tait’s my name. I’m Naomi’s grandmother.’ They shook hands. ‘Yes, we heard about Kerri’s ring last night. News like that travels fast round here. Lisa’s mother knows the Vlasich’s neighbours. Lisa came straight round here, and she and Naomi were comforting each other till late. In fact Lisa stayed the night, and she’s only just gone home. So upset they are. It’s just so hard to believe. Kerri was such a lively girl, so full of life.’
She showed Kathy into a living room, full of old but comfortable furniture, and introduced her to her husband, who struggled to his feet as they came in. His right arm was stiff and held to his side, his right eye watery.
‘It’s the police, Jack, just as we thought,’ Mrs Tait said, and he grunted and gestured at a chair for Kathy. ‘If you’re wanting to know,’ she went on, patient and well-practised in her explanation, ‘Naomi’s mother, our daughter, passed away a couple of years ago-’
‘Two years ago this Christmas,’ her husband interrupted, scowling at his frozen hand.
‘And we took responsibility for the three girls. Naomi and her small sister live here with us. Her older sister, Kimberley, is away at present. So that’s why you find us here with Naomi.’
Kathy nodded with a sympathetic smile. She could imagine how many times this explanation had been necessary -to social security, the doctor, schools, inquisitive neighbours, parents of friends of the girls. ‘I’m sorry to bother you, Mrs Tait. I would like to have a chat to Naomi if it wouldn’t be too upsetting for her. You knew Kerri yourself then?’
‘Oh yes. Kerri was round here often.’
‘The three mouseketeers,’ Jack offered. He had a newspaper beneath his good hand on the arm of the chair, folded to the racing section.
His wife smiled weakly at him. ‘They did a fancy dress once, the three of them, Kerri, Lisa and Naomi. They were close. And how is poor Alison Vlasich coping?’
‘Not too well at present.’
‘I must go over and see her. We know what it’s like, to lose a child.’
‘Give her a bell. Ask her to come here,’ Jack said. ‘You know I don’t like you going over Primrose. Rough buggers in that court. It’s not safe.’ He glared at Kathy, ready to argue the point if she cared to deny it.
‘Kerri was a lively girl, you say?’
‘Oh yes, very lively, full of beans.’
‘A handful,’ Jack offered.
‘Yes,’ Kathy agreed. ‘Mrs Vlasich gave me the impression that Kerri was being a bit rebellious lately, not telling her where she went and so on.’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s not easy for a woman on her own to cope with a lively teenager.’ Mrs Tait looked sadly at a group of four framed portrait photographs mounted on the wall. ‘Our daughter had three girls to bring up on her own.’
‘Would you say she was adventurous enough to take off by herself to see her father in Germany?’
Mrs Tait gave it a little thought. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s the sort of thing she would do.’
‘Pain in the neck,’ Jack Tait said grumpily.
‘Don’t say that, Jack. Not now.’
He looked sheepish and cocked his head to one side to acknowledge the scolding.
‘She liked to tease Jack sometimes,’ Mrs Tait explained. ‘It wasn’t cheek, really. More high spirits. Is that what happened, then? She ran away to find her dad?’
‘We’re not sure yet. Had she mentioned him to you recently? Maybe plans to see him for Christmas?’
