Leon giving her his number. So long ago it seemed, before everything happened, before she had even imagined that it could happen. She was impatient to leave, to pick him up in Lambeth as they’d arranged, but there were things that had to be done.
Sharon gave her a wave from her console in the security centre as she came in. Speedy was working at another table, on what looked like a video-editing machine, with images flashing past on the screen in front of him. He spotted her reflection in his screen and turned to her with a big toothy smile. ‘Yo, Sergeant!’ he called.
‘Hello Speedy,’ Kathy said, surprised at this welcome, wondering what had put him in such a good mood.
‘Your tape’s ready, babe,’ he said. ‘All done.’
‘Thanks. We appreciate it.’ Bo Seager had arranged for Speedy to compile a tape of the walk-through from his monitors for Brock to view when he returned from Hornchurch Street.
‘Ms Seager said if you want you can use the video machine in her office,’ Sharon said. ‘The office’ll be open till late.’
‘Great. We might do that. It gets rather hectic in the unit.’ Kathy took the tape that Speedy offered her and turned to go.
‘Oh, and I’ve got this as well,’ Speedy said, reaching for a second tape in a sealed box.
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s some odds and ends I found,’ Speedy said, grinning rather wildly. He’s on something, she thought. ‘Just stuff from the monitors. But I thought there might be something there of use to you. You never know.’
‘Really? You think it could help us? Maybe I should leave this for my boss too.’
‘Oh, no.’ He sniggered as if at some private joke. ‘Have a look at it yourself first, babe, before you show him. Decide whether it’s worth a wider audience.’
There was something about the way he put it that she didn’t like.
Maybe it’s a dirty movie, she thought. Maybe this is Speedy’s way of flashing.
‘Okay. I’ll do that.’
‘Yeah.’ He grinned, and turned away. ‘You do that, babe.’
She turned to Sharon, who shrugged and gave her a look that said, that’s Speedy for you.
Kathy returned to the unit and phoned Brock. He was on his way back, he told her, having spent over an hour interviewing Stefan Vlasich, which hadn’t been very helpful. The man’s composure had been reimposed, his answers short and unilluminating. When pressed about his reaction to going into Silvermeadow he claimed that he had been unable to face the sight of another child playing the role of his little girl, but Brock knew that his panic had started before he had mentioned the walk-through. There was something odd there all right. Then they had gone to the morgue, where the people had done their best to make one side of Kerri’s face presentable. Stefan Vlasich had stared through the window at the small shrouded figure of his daughter without a flicker of reaction.
‘What about the walk-through?’ Brock asked. ‘How did it go?’
‘Fine. The girls did it very well. We’ve had a lot of reports from members of the public who say they knew Kerri by sight, but no one who can be specific about the sixth. The walk-through itself was like a circus. There’s a tape of it here for you to see, if you want. There’s a machine in the centre management offices, and they say they’ll be open till late if you want a bit of peace and quiet.’
‘Okay. Why don’t you go home now, Kathy? Get to bed early tonight. Boss’s orders.’
Kathy hesitated. ‘I’d like that,’ she said, with a little smile.
She drove into central London, phoning him on the way, so that he was waiting under the arch of the railway bridge when she arrived. He put the carrier bags he was carrying into the back and slipped in quickly beside her, and they grabbed each other as if their whole day had been spent waiting in furious impatience for this moment, which it had.
‘God,’ he whispered. ‘I’ve missed you. I can’t believe how much.’
‘Me too. Home?’
‘Yes please.’
‘What did you tell your mum and dad?’
‘I’m staying with a friend. We’re thinking of getting a place together.’
‘How did they take that?’
‘Fine. They seemed pleased.’
‘Did you specify the gender of the friend?’
‘No, and they didn’t ask. Funny really.’
Kathy pulled out into the traffic and turned north, heading for Vauxhall Bridge. ‘Have you been shopping?’ she asked, nodding over her shoulder at the bags in the back.
‘Just a few things for you. Food, a couple of bottles, one or two little things for the kitchen. You’re not offended, are you?’
She laughed. ‘Course not. What sort of little things?’
He reached back for one of the bags and brought them out: pepper and salt grinders, a corkscrew, two eggcups and a thing for drizzling olive oil.
‘ Drizzling olive oil! Wow.’
‘You’re sure you’re not offended?’
‘Not in the least. I did a bit of shopping today too.’
‘What did you get?’
‘That’s a surprise.’
Brock took the video down the mall to the centre management offices. The door was locked, but Bo Seager answered his knock. Her mood seemed much changed from the previous evening, relaxed and welcoming. She took the tape from him and put it in the machine, sat him down and offered him a malt.
‘That does sound tempting,’ he said. ‘Just a small one, thanks, Ms Seager.’
‘Bo, please.’ She smiled. ‘I’m sorry if we sounded kinda belligerent last night. David, isn’t it? Frankly, we were nervous about the impact of all this. And I guess Nathan Tindall felt he had to make a point.’
‘He did that all right.’
‘Nathan believes in covering all the angles. That way he may well end up with my job, if and when I mess things up good and proper.’ She said it lightly, as if it was to be taken as a joke. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers. So you feel less nervous now… Bo?’
‘After the way the walk-through went today, I feel we may have to make a big donation to the police widows fund, or whatever. Oh dear, you’re frowning at my tastelessness. Sorry.’
‘That’s all right. So it didn’t put your customers off?’
‘Quite the opposite! It seems a murder is a much bigger draw than Santa Claus. Isn’t that interesting? I might give a paper on it to the next marketing conference. Look, I’ll show you.’
She reached for the remote and sat back, crossing her long dark legs in a way that Brock found momentarily distracting. Then the screen came to life with a scene like a triumphal parade.
‘Good grief!’ Brock muttered.
There was no doubt that Speedy Reynolds had flair, heightening the drama of the occasion with rapid switches from camera to camera, distant shots alternating with close-ups, panning and zooming like a professional.
‘He’s good, isn’t he?’ Bo said. ‘Speedy, I mean. He does it really well.’
‘Good grief,’ Brock repeated, shaking his head as the edited film came to an end.
‘What’s the matter?’ Bo asked him.
‘It’s a bloody circus!’
‘You look shocked.’
He shook his head. ‘No, not really. We uncover a body in the woods, or a plane comes down somewhere, and suddenly the lanes are full of cars, like blowflies homing in on the smell of death. But still, this is something, isn’t it? Carnival time.’
‘Oh, come on! You called them here! You wanted them to take an interest. Then you sit back and call them blowflies!’
He saw that she was teasing him, and he smiled back. ‘Yes, well, you don’t seem to be wasting the opportunity- ten per cent discounts on food in the food court? And it all seems to be doing great things for your
