‘No, can’t say I have. Have you asked Harry?’
‘It doesn’t matter. It’s all history now. I just had to cover any possible similar incidents in my report. You don’t know of any, do you? Girls reported missing?’
‘You don’t think Speedy-’
‘No, no. The case is closed. And as I say, I’d be grateful if you didn’t mention to anyone that I was in here tying up these loose ends. I should have done it before.’
Kathy left, avoiding Harry Jackson and the TV people.
At Hornchurch Street she found Bren and Gavin Lowry together in the incident room, checking through interview statements. They looked up as she came in, and Bren said, ‘Something going on, Kathy? You look pleased with yourself.’
‘Not sure,’ she replied. ‘Have we got Harry Jackson’s statement about last Saturday here?’
‘Yeah,’ Lowry pointed at a pile of paper. ‘Silvermeadow staff statements. Why? What’s up?’
‘Tell you in a moment.’ Kathy pulled off her coat and sat down at the table, searching through the papers until she found what she wanted. The two men waited in silence while she read, nodding as she scanned the single page.
‘Right,’ she said, handing it across to Bren. ‘Harry Jackson says that he was at the conference at the Barbican all day Saturday until five p.m., and then caught a train out to Upminster where he’d left his car. He then drove home, arriving there about six-thirty.’
‘Well?’
‘I have a witness who saw him in Brentwood high street at about two o’clock. They say he looked as if he was waiting for someone he’d arranged to meet.’
Bren said, ‘Interesting,’ but Lowry looked incredulous, shaking his head. ‘No, no,’ he said. ‘Not Harry. They’ve mistaken him for someone else. Who is it anyway?’
‘Someone who works with him every day, Gavin. Sharon, one of his security staff. And she and her boyfriend talked to Harry in Brentwood, and he was embarrassed and told them to keep it quiet that he was there instead of at the conference.’
Bren was on his feet. ‘I’ll get Brock.’
Kathy and Lowry remained sitting at the table in silence for a while, then Lowry, scowling, shook his head and said softly, ‘No. Not Harry.’
Lowry sat with his hands locked together on top of his crisp haircut. Brock took delivery of more coffee and a plate of sandwiches and closed the door again, catching a glimpse of the faces in the outer office, peering over to see what was going on.
‘You must know him as well as anyone,’ he said, putting the plate on the table between them.
‘He was my DI for four years at West Ham when I was getting started. He looked after me. More than that, he was a mate. And I think you’re wrong about this,’ Lowry added, eyeing the file that lay closed in front of Brock’s place. ‘There’ll be an explanation. Ask him.’
‘I shall, but not yet. You’d describe your DI as a mate, would you?’
‘I was newly married at the time, and Connie, my wife, got to be friends with Harry’s wife, so we got to know each other socially.’
There was something, the hint almost of a sneer, Brock thought, as if Lowry didn’t approve of Harry’s wife.
‘He and I played snooker, though he was out of my league. We just hit it off. Yeah, he was a mate. Still is.’
‘Did you remain friends after you moved to Dagenham?’ Brock asked, helping himself to a sandwich.
‘At first, then they got divorced. You know how it is. We were friends with them both, felt awkward about them splitting up and ended up losing touch with both of them. We met up again with Harry by accident, when he left the force and went to work at Silvermeadow. Connie went out there soon after it opened. Couldn’t keep away, could she?’
There it was again. Perhaps it was his own wife he despised, not Harry’s, and he had fallen into that little habit, the tiny curl of the lip, the put-down remark, whenever he mentioned her.
‘There’s worse things than shopping, I suppose,’ Brock said absently.
‘Depends what she spends!’ The response came back too fast. ‘Anyway, Harry came up to her in the mall. Said he’d recognised her on the security camera. Since then we’ve been out together a few times, and we keep in touch through work as well. I’ve become a sort of informal liaison with Silvermeadow.’
‘Have a sandwich.’ Brock pushed the plate across, but Lowry shook his head. ‘He didn’t remarry? What about a girlfriend?’
‘No. He’s past that.’
Brock smiled. ‘We’re never past that, Gavin.’ He watched Lowry’s face relax a little.
‘Well, he’s never let on to us.’
‘Expensive tastes? The horses?’
‘Nah, not Harry, chief. He’s steady, steady as a rock.’
‘Has he been pumping you while we’ve been working on the Vlasich case?’
Lowry looked uncomfortable. ‘No more than you’d expect. It’s his patch. Of course he’d want me to keep him informed of what we were doing.’
‘Naturally. But nothing you recall that seems significant, now, thinking back?’
Lowry shook his head, then said tightly, ‘If he’s been up to something, I’d like to be the one to nail him, chief.’
‘I don’t think that would be a very good idea.’
‘Why not?’ Lowry demanded.
‘Because the most important thing now is finding North. If Harry is mixed up with him in some way, we’re not going to get any closer by letting him know we’re onto him. I’m actually thinking, Gavin, that we might have to send you on a course somewhere far away. Or you might take Connie away on a surprise holiday until this is over.’
‘What?’
‘He’s an ex-copper, and he knows you well. You’re going to bump into him, and he’ll see it written all over your face. He’ll know, and our best chance of tracking down North will be gone.’
Lowry looked devastated. ‘Don’t you think he might be suspicious if I suddenly disappear in the middle of the investigation?’
Brock shrugged and took another sandwich. He was interested to see how far Lowry would press this point.
‘Look, chief,’ Lowry protested. ‘I’m the one who knows him! If he knows where North is, I’ve got the best chance of finding out.’
‘And how would you do that, Gavin?’
Lowry thought for a moment. ‘Maybe… maybe there’s some link between North and Harry that I could spot. Someone they both know, or a place. I don’t know. I could talk to Bren, go through everything he’s gathered on North.’
Brock considered this. ‘Maybe. But I don’t want you running any risk of meeting Harry. You stay here. Don’t go near Silvermeadow, okay?’
Lowry nodded.
‘You might think about places he may have mentioned to you in the past. A property somewhere? A caravan maybe, a place he used to rent?’
‘I’ll try.’
‘What about Connie? Could he have mentioned something to her?’
‘Possible, I suppose.’
‘Speak to her. Get her to think back. Then keep your head down. Warn Connie to tell him you’re out if he rings. If you have to speak to him on the phone I want to be beside you with a recorder going.’
After Lowry left, Brock opened the file and pondered. He felt reasonably sure that the help Lowry had given Jackson arose out of nothing more than innocent loyalty to an old friend. But if it was more than that he would certainly alert Jackson now. What would happen then? How steady was Harry’s nerve these days?
He scanned the page in front of him until he came to the note about Ilford. Two years before he retired from
