‘My neighbour,’ Gilbey muttered, staring at the floor, apparently intimidated by his client.
The boisterous mood seemed suddenly to desert Beaufort, and he became serious.‘Not the mad woman?’
‘You know her?’ Kathy said.
He took his time to turn his gaze to her and respond, as if to make the point that it was his habit to interrogate police officers and not the other way around. Then, at the last minute, he flashed what might have been intended as a disarming smile. ‘Yes indeed. We’ve seen her in the street, haven’t we, Reeves?’
‘Sir.’
‘She was being pursued by a flock of little girls, at a safe distance. What were they calling her?’
‘Batty Betty, I think it was.’
‘Yes. Were you close friends, Gilbey?’ Then he stared again at the painting and realisation lit his face.‘It’s her, isn’t it? The Woman in a Bath was the lady next door, yes? How fascinating.’ He turned to Kathy.‘And is this of interest to you, Sergeant?’
‘Yes.’ Kathy bit off the ‘sir’ that almost followed. ‘It seems probable she was murdered.’
‘Really!’Beaufort looked startled.‘But…why? Was it a robbery?’
‘We’re not sure at the moment.’
‘But you people are looking into it, are you? Not the local division? So you think…’
‘It’s too soon to say, sir.’
‘Well… yes, that is a shock for you, Gilbey. Northcote Square is becoming quite a hotbed of crime, it seems…’ he regarded Kathy with a malicious glint in his eye,‘… despite the heavy presence of Special Operations.’
Kathy caught the sarcastic tone and noticed a thoughtful frown cross the face of DI Reeves in the background.
‘Well, anyway, I’m here now, Gilbey old chap. You need something to distract you, and our deadline is fast approaching, so let’s get on with it, shall we?’
The way he spoke to the painter reminded Kathy of the way Tait had spoken to Gabriel Rudd that first morning, as to a distracted child needing to be brought into line. And Gilbey seemed to accept it, giving a resigned sigh and shuffling across to his easel while Beaufort draped himself on the chair placed by the window. It was the same place where Betty had sat almost thirty-five years before, Kathy thought. She also noticed that the pose Gilbey had given Beaufort had his head facing towards the window, although his eyes were turned back at the painter, as if the sitter had just been caught looking out at something-the children in the playground, perhaps.
‘I will need to speak to Mr Gilbey again soon,’ Kathy said.‘I’ll call back at eleven.’
Beaufort said,‘Reeves, old chap, how about making us some coffee?’ and the Special Branch inspector followed Kathy down the stairs.
‘Talks to me like a bloody butler,’ he said when they reached the kitchen. He seemed more amused than annoyed.‘Fancy a cup?’
‘A quick one, thanks. He is a bit of a pain, isn’t he? Is anyone really trying to kill him?’
‘Hard to say, but we don’t want anything to happen to him right now.’ Kathy caught Reeves’s glance at her, as if to see whether she’d followed the significance of the remark, but she hadn’t and he went on,‘Did you ever see him in court?’
‘No.’
‘Worth reading his sentencing speeches. Venomous, they are-a pungent mix of sarcasm, self-righteous outrage and contempt. The barristers say they’re an art form and should be published.’
Kathy smiled, thinking that his vocabulary was different from that of most coppers she met, and wondered if he was a reader. She noticed what looked like paperbacks in a carrier bag, and supposed he’d have plenty of time for that in his present job.
‘I’ve no doubt that anyone on the receiving end of one of those must have spent a good part of their time inside dreaming of putting a bomb under his car, or something worse… You’re thinking this woman’s murder has something to do with the missing girl, are you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Must have.’ Reeves poured boiling water into the mugs.‘Milk? Sugar?’
Kathy shook her head. He took a splash of milk.
‘Smoke if you want,’ he said.‘Reg does.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Me neither.’ Kathy had the feeling she was being assessed.
‘They were setting up crime scene tapes closing the whole lane when we arrived.’
‘She was found in the building site.’
‘Really?’ He thought about that, sipping from the mug. ‘Have you seen how much they’re selling those flats for?’
‘No.’
‘Four hundred k each, off the plan, four in each house. I wonder how much they offered the mad woman. Or Gilbey, come to that.’
‘Mmm. Incidentally, did you tell Beaufort we’re from Special Operations?’
‘Didn’t need to. He’s come across Brock before. And then, of course, he has a particular interest.’
‘What’s that?’
Reeves lowered his voice. ‘He’s doing a review of SO for the Met. You didn’t know? No, you and I are too lowly to be told-strictly senior management only at this stage. I only know because I saw documents he was reading in the car and he dropped a few hints. Could be radical. He murmured ominously about amputations.’
‘Well, if he knows of Brock’s reputation, he should be kind to us.’
‘With Beaufort the opposite’s more likely to be the case. That’s something else he’s famous for-puncturing other people’s reputations.’
Kathy thought about the man upstairs and felt a sudden sympathy for the people who’d faced him in his court.
There was a roar from above. ‘Reeves! Where’s that bloody coffee? I can smell it! We’re dying up here.’
‘Promises, promises,’ Reeves murmured, and got reluctantly to his feet. ‘Funny thing… the morning after that bloke fell from the tower block, Saturday, his lordship had a session here. It was my day off and my offsider drove him. Afterwards he told me that Beaufort told him to drive here by way of the Newman estate, just to have a look.’
Another cry from above. ‘Reeves! Put that damn woman down!’
The inspector winced and picked up three mugs. ‘See you later.’
16
Mr Sundeep Mehta could usually be relied upon for a joke and a few wisecracks. When Brock and Kathy arrived at the autopsy room the pathologist was in the middle of a story about a man and a frog that he was relating to his unsmiling pathology technician and the bored photographer. For the benefit of the newcomers he quickly recapped, taking no notice of the grim looks on their faces.
‘Man walking down street, frog stops him and asks him to buy it a drink, takes it to a bar, frog also starving, man buys it sandwich, frog says it’s exhausted and could he give it a bed for the night? Man agrees, takes it home. Frog asks for goodnight kiss. Good Samaritan hides disgust, kisses frog, frog turns into beautiful princess. “And that, Your Honour, is how I came to be found in bed with an underage girl.” Ha!’
Nobody laughed.
‘Oh, come on you lot!’ Dr Mehta protested.‘What’s the matter with everyone this morning? Is it your dismal weather getting you down?’
‘Where did you hear that one, Sundeep?’ Brock growled.‘The Dirty Raincoat Club?’
‘Ah, Brock, your other case, of course. How tactless of me. But still, if we can’t laugh in the face of life’s tragedies we have no business coming to a place like this. So, let’s get to work.’
Betty was laid out on the table just as she had been found, hands bound and face blindfolded. Mehta
