‘I’ll meet you at the incident room in Hornchurch Street as soon as I can get there.’
As she made her way there Kathy reflected that if North was in Tulip Court then they had been coming and going within yards of him all this time. And, whether he had murdered her himself or not, he must surely be the reason that Kerri Vlasich had died.
It took several hours to secure Tulip Court without the residents realising what was happening. During this time the tenant of the flat was identified from council housing department records as Sophie Bryant, a single woman living with one child, a five-year-old girl. Once Brock was satisfied that the area was secure, a policeman in a postman’s uniform went up to the flat with a registered parcel marked for a Mr Brown at that address, and rang the bell. After getting no reply he rang the adjoining flats, and learned that nothing had been seen of the Bryants for several days. Their visitor, a middle-aged man known as Keith, hadn’t been noticed for a week.
Later that evening Brock, Kathy and two detectives entered the flat using keys supplied by the housing department on production of a search warrant. It was clear that Mrs Bryant and her daughter had taken most of their clothes and personal belongings with them. The whole apartment had been carefully wiped clean of fingerprints.
When he got home to Warren Lane that night, Brock found that Suzanne had a cooked dinner ready for him. The smell of it, beef bourguignon, percolated deliciously through the house and lifted his spirits as soon as he stepped through the front door. He opened a bottle of burgundy and they ate a companionable meal, telling each other about their day. The pantomime had been a great success, and further expeditions had been planned for the following day.
‘I’m really sorry I missed it, Suzanne,’ he said.
‘Oh, it doesn’t matter.’ She patted his hand.
‘Yes it does,’ he said, and meant it. The chance wouldn’t come again. He took hold of her fingers and gave them a squeeze. ‘I was really looking forward to it, the atmosphere, the children’s faces. Was Captain Hook good?’
‘Terrifying. And the crocodile. The kids were absolutely captivated. Do you know, it was the first time they’d seen live theatre? I’m just worried I might have got them stage-struck and blighted their little lives for ever.’
‘Would that be so bad? Miranda’s got stage presence, I reckon. Tragedy, though, not pantomime. Lady Macbeth rather than Cinderella.’
‘She can be rather intense, can’t she? Coming back on the train she asked if you were very lonely, living on your own.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I said she should ask you, if she could catch you in.’
Brock laughed. ‘Tomorrow, I promise. Where are we going?’
‘The zoo, but don’t make promises, David. Sergeant Kolla may ferret out another lead. Now she does sound intense.’
‘Determined, certainly. But I thought she was becoming a bit more relaxed recently.’
‘Does she have a man?’
‘Not sure.’
‘Don’t you know? Don’t you discuss such things with your colleagues?’
‘No. And I’m not sure in the sense that I thought I’d detected some mutual interest between her and someone, but now I don’t know.’
‘Another copper?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is that a good thing?’
‘Probably, yes. Why not?’
‘I just thought life might get a bit in-bred, you know. Anyway, how can I say? I’ve never even met Sergeant Kolla.’
‘Do you want to?’
‘Yes, I think I do. Then I can stop being jealous of her.’
‘Eh?’ Brock lowered his fork to his plate in surprise.
‘Yes, of course. You obviously have a lot of, well, respect for each other.’
‘I should think so.’
‘Don’t get huffy, David. Tell you what, why don’t you invite her and this possible mutual admirer over for a meal, and I’ll tell you whether they’re made for each other or not. Make it tomorrow evening. I’ll cook something nice.’
‘Are you sure?’ Brock looked doubtful.
‘Why not? Unless you’re trying to keep me a secret?’
‘No, no…’ He frowned at his plate. ‘Why would I do that?’ But it was true, he realised. He didn’t want… what? To have to define their relationship to people who had nothing to do with it? Was that it? Or to have to explain when, or if, it came to nothing.
Suzanne burst out laughing. ‘Oh, David. I hope you lie better than that to your villains.’
He grinned back. ‘They’re not usually as perceptive as you.’
They held each other’s eyes, smiling, then leant towards one another across the corner of the table and shared a gentle kiss.
‘Let’s go to bed,’ Suzanne suggested, and they got to their feet and carried dishes through to the kitchen. Brock watched her at the sink, rinsing plates, and was filled with a sense of gratitude. He took hold of her again, and again they kissed, longer and deeper.
They were disturbed by a small shuffling sound at the door, and looked over to see Miranda there, face puffy with sleep, staring fixedly at them.
‘Are you all right, darling?’ Suzanne said, going to her.
‘I had a bad dream,’ the little girl muttered, and rubbed at her eyes. ‘I saw a monster.’
‘Don’t worry, my darling.’ Suzanne gathered her up in her arms. ‘There are no monsters here. Uncle David would never allow it.’
Miranda stared across at Brock with the same uncertain look he’d seen on her face before.
Suzanne stroked her hair and said, ‘Probably it was the crocodile in the pantomime that gave you the dreams, darling.’
The little girl pressed her face against Suzanne’s cheek and whispered something.
‘What, darling?’
‘The monster turns people into dwarfs, and eats them for his dinner,’ Miranda whispered, and again stared at Brock, then at the dinner plates on the kitchen table.
18
K athy was at Euston in plenty of time the following evening, Thursday the twenty-third of December. The train was late and her feet were frozen by the time it arrived. She felt her heart give a lurch when she saw him, and she thought, That’s how you know, isn’t it?
He walked steadily towards her through the milling people, the slamming doors and baggage trolleys, his eyes on her, the barest smile, and they embraced and kissed each other on the cheek.
‘You’re cold,’ he said.
‘Freezing. How was your trip?’
‘Pretty good.’
‘Tell me all about it in the car.’ She turned towards the exit.
‘Kathy, wait. I’m not going back to the flat.’
‘What?’ She thought she’d misheard him in the noise of the station.
‘I’m getting a taxi to my parents’ house. I’ve arranged to spend Christmas with them.’
The roar of people and banging doors seemed to fade to a buzz in Kathy’s head. She stared at him.
‘I’m sorry. I just decided this afternoon.’
