detective to jog their memories and follow up anything that looks promising.’ He looked at her, raising an eyebrow.
‘Me? Oh…well, that would be great, but…’ She thought bitterly of her meeting with Robert, and explained to Brock, ‘I’ve just agreed to take on the chair of that bloody committee I’m on. I’ve been told it will require a full-time commitment for two or three weeks.’
‘What?’ Brock looked annoyed. ‘Why the hell did you do that? You didn’t talk to me about it.’
She didn’t remind him that he’d suggested it to her earlier. ‘I didn’t have much choice. It was put to me that I had to agree on the spot. I said they should discuss it with you, but he said it wasn’t necessary and that it had already been approved at DAC level.’
Brock’s face darkened. ‘Who said this?’
‘The admin guy who services the committee. Robert.’
‘Damn cheek!’ He gave a low growl, like an old bear contemplating an unruly pup. ‘Have you got this character’s number?’
Kathy handed it to him.
‘You might step out of the room, would you, Kathy? You too, Bren.’
‘I’ve got things to do,’ Bren said, getting to his feet.
Kathy closed the door carefully behind her and went out to chat with Dot. After a couple of minutes they stopped in mid-sentence at the sound of Brock’s bellowed voice, muffled through the heavy door. Dot smiled. ‘That’s good. I haven’t heard him do that for a while. He’ll feel much better afterwards. I’ve been a bit worried lately that his friend might be mellowing him. What do you think?’
His friend. Kathy knew Dot was referring to Suzanne and assumed that she was about to be pumped. ‘I haven’t noticed it,’ she said tactfully.
‘You don’t think she’s trying to get him to leave the force?’
Kathy was saved from answering by Brock’s face at the door. ‘All sorted. You’ve got leave of absence from the committee until next Thursday, when you take up your position there full time. Okay? You’d better get on to the McNeils and persuade them to leave with you tomorrow.’
In the event the McNeils, who jumped at the chance of an expenses-paid trip to Barcelona, couldn’t leave until the day after, Sunday. While Dot started booking flights and hotel rooms, Kathy spoke again with Brock.
‘Just make sure they understand about the subsistence rate,’ Brock said. ‘We’re not paying for their bloody bar bills.’ Then he added, ‘Maybe you should get Leon to go with you.’ He said it diffidently, and Kathy wasn’t sure if it was a serious suggestion or just a probe.
‘He’s up to his ears in an assignment for his uni course. I doubt if he could afford the time.’
‘Ah yes.’
‘To be honest, it’ll probably be a relief for both of us for me to get out of the way for a few days. The flat’s a bit crowded since he moved his computer and books in.’ The words came out without thought, and it was only when they were spoken that Kathy wondered with a small shock whether she really would be relieved to leave him.
‘It’s not a big flat, is it? Must be a bit tight for two.’
‘Yes. We’re thinking about finding somewhere bigger,’ Kathy said, puzzling over Brock’s tone, as if he were looking at the question from a completely different point of view, one which Kathy wasn’t aware of. She decided to change the subject. ‘On my way back from seeing Charlotte this afternoon, I stopped at a supermarket and had my car broken into. They took my briefcase, among other things, with the transcript of Clarke’s interview.’
‘Would anyone be able to identify him?’
‘I don’t think so. I didn’t have the cover sheet, with the names.’
‘Better send a report to the local boys, make sure they take it seriously. Was there much damage?’
‘The side window was smashed. I’ll get it fixed while I’m away.’
Brock nodded. ‘Keep your eyes open over there. You never know, someone may have missed something. That’s really why I want you to go. You speak some Spanish, don’t you?’
‘Very little. I started learning it last year.’
‘I wish I was going too.’ Brock looked regretfully around his office, at the files piled on his desk and the table by the window and spilling over the floor. ‘Maybe if you find something you’ll have to call me over.’
‘I’ll do my best.’ Kathy grinned and headed for the door.
13
Kathy accepted the small plastic container of orange juice and stretched her legs as far as she could under the seat in front. The other two seats in the row beside her were occupied by the McNeils, who were discussing something offered in the in-flight magazine. DI Tony Heron and DS Linda Moffat were several rows ahead, having checked in together before Kathy and the McNeils had arrived at the airport. In fact it now seemed to Kathy, although she hadn’t noticed anything previously, that Tony and Linda might have something going between them, or else were taking advantage of the trip to get something started. She had seemed positively flirtatious towards her Fraud Squad colleague when they had all eventually met up, while he had miraculously shed his funereal aspect and was transformed in a lightweight bomber jacket and navy T-shirt, and even, Kathy suspected, a touch of gel in his hair. Linda, too, was dressed for leisure rather than work, with white cotton slacks, a bright orange top, espadrilles and a pair of dark glasses propped optimistically on top of her head. The McNeils had also come in their Mediterranean holiday gear and Kathy, who had packed on the basis that this was a serious business trip, felt, in her black suit, as if she’d turned up at the wrong party.
But that didn’t matter. She tilted the seat back, tuned the headphones to a jazz channel and closed her eyes. This was an unlooked-for break, a welcome change from the
routine and familiar. Leon could take over the whole flat while he finished his assignment, and she wouldn’t have to feel guilty about making a noise or spilling things on his precious papers, as she had with Madelaine Verge’s romesco sauce on the Friday night when she’d told him about the trip. The coincidence of the Spanish food and the visit to Barcelona had made Kathy feel awkward, as if he might think she had been secretly planning to go away without him, but he had been pleased for her, and, as expected, turned down her suggestion that he come along.
‘Next time,’ he had said, and set about wiping the sauce from his textbook with paper towels. He had a sad air about him, which Kathy put down to a touch of the martyrs.
A steward offered drinks. Audrey McNeil and Kathy both asked for glasses of wine, Peter McNeil a scotch. Down the aisle Kathy saw Tony and Linda being handed glasses of champagne, and she smiled.
Peter had his Barcelona guidebook open and he and his wife began to give Kathy a briefing on the city. The hotel where they would be staying, on Linda’s recommendation, was very conveniently located, they explained. Just off the Placa de Catalunya, it was not far from the Passeig de Gracia, where they thought they had seen Charles Verge, and only a short taxi, bus or metro ride to the Palau de Justicia, if that was where Kathy was heading. And from the point of view of sightseeing, it was also very handy to La Rambla and the Gothic Quarter. Peter explained all this with the complacent superiority of the seasoned traveller, interrupted from time to time by his wife’s chirpy elaborations, delivered very fast before Peter could cut her off.
The original plan had been for the McNeils to stay just one night, flying home again on the Monday evening after spending the morning with Kathy on the Passeig de Gracia, but they had arranged to extend their stay by another day- principally, it transpired, to allow Audrey to meet her internet bridge partner on the Tuesday morning. ‘We’ve arranged to meet at a cafe opposite the cathedral. I have to brandish my copy of Fifty Favourite Bridge Problems.’ She reached into her handbag to show Kathy the book. ‘I’m really looking forward to it. It’s so strange to meet her in the flesh after getting to know her so well as my partner in cyberspace.’ She said the last word with relish, perhaps to make some point with her husband, who snorted indulgently and took a pull at his whisky. ‘Fine building, the cathedral,’ he said.
‘Yes, Audrey showed me your photos,’ Kathy replied.
‘Oh no, that was Gaudi’s church, the Sagrada Familia,’ Audrey corrected her with a smile and an unspoken undertone, do get it right, dear, so that Kathy felt obliged to repeat it.
‘The Sagrada Familia, right.’
