‘Yes, we traced that call. Abbott made it soon after my people visited him the first time.’
‘When he got to the estate he discovered that Abbott was dead. He went to his flat and found all that stuff inside, and claims he was as surprised as the police when you discovered Lee in the cupboard.’
‘Rubbish. Why did he wait ten days to tell us this?’
‘His statement doesn’t explain that. No doubt they’ll come up with something. Why did he?’
‘Because the last person who could disprove it was found hanged last night.’ Brock told her what had happened.
‘My God. He was murdered?’
‘Maybe, or assisted suicide.’ Brock stared at his glass, surprised to see it empty. He had anticipated a number of possible strategies from Wylie to mitigate his guilt, but not outright denial.‘They must be confident they can pull it off.’
‘Yes. I don’t think I like this, Brock. There were no photographs of him with the girls, were there?’
‘No, he was the photographer.’
‘And the camera and computer equipment were stolen property and can’t be linked to him.’
‘Not so far.’
‘And no change to Lee?’
‘No, still in a coma. But we know she recognised him in that flat. Her eyes were only open for a few seconds, but she was terrified when she saw Wylie.’
‘Yes, but that will work against us. If she regains consciousness and identifies him, they’ll claim she’s confusing the memory of having seen him that night.’
They were both silent for a time, thinking, then Virginia said,‘No, I don’t like this. Why did they send his statement to us, and not to the police? It was my boss who phoned me about it. He told me to be very careful to get this one right. What did he mean? When I asked him, he made some lame remark about just doing my usual excellent job.’
Brock didn’t reply. Finally he said, ‘Have you come across a judge called Sir Jack Beaufort?’
‘Jugular Jack? Yes, of course. Appeared before him a few times in my youth. Why?’
‘Any rumours?’
‘Only that he’s got a savage tongue. What kind of rumours?’
‘No, nothing, Virginia. Forget I mentioned it. So, where do we go from here?’
‘You get us some hard evidence to pin Wylie down. Otherwise…’ she shrugged,‘… we’re just not going to be able to proceed against him.’
Their food arrived, the best pub food in London, but Brock didn’t taste a thing.
When he returned to Shoreditch he found the copy of Wylie’s statement waiting for him. He summoned Bren urgently and sat down to study it. Bren was stunned by Brock’s account of his meeting with the Crown Prosecutor.
‘That’s impossible! We found him in the flat, with the victim.’
Brock handed him Wylie’s statement and watched his face fall as he read it.
‘He can’t get away with this. It’s preposterous!’
‘Virginia Ashe thinks he can.’
‘His fingerprints were everywhere.’
‘He says he had a good look around before we found him. He’s thought it through, Bren. It does kind of fit with the evidence we have. We’ll have to speak to his wife, of course, but presumably he’s confident about what she’ll say. What have we really got to tie Abbott and Wylie together, in that flat?’
‘You think Dodworth saw them together?’
‘That would explain the timing of this, wouldn’t it?’
Bren pondered. ‘We found the shop that supplied the batteries in the camera. The assistant thinks he might recognise Wylie.’
‘That would help,’ Brock said, but they both knew it was thin. ‘There is one other avenue. Wylie claimed that Abbott must have destroyed his own hard drive in the microwave, but the smell of burnt plastic in the flat was fresh, and Wylie’s own computer is missing, supposedly stolen.’
‘Emails,’ Bren said.‘Yes, we thought of that, but it didn’t seem a priority to find out.’
‘Until now…’ Brock said.
Kathy was sitting in the central gardens of Northcote Square eating a sandwich bought from Sonia Fikret, whose mood had been markedly less accommodating than before, no doubt to indicate that the family’s patience was running out over the continual police harassment at the building site. Kathy finished the sandwich and shook the crumbs from the paper bag. Immediately a sparrow swooped down to the gravel at her feet and began pecking.
‘Ah, you miss Betty,’ Kathy said. The gardens seemed bereft without her, the last of the leaves suddenly fallen as if in grief and the birds all gone except for this one scruffy little sparrow.
Her phone warbled in the pocket of her coat and she wasn’t surprised to hear the voice of Bev Nolan. She sounded older, a quaver in her voice.
‘Kathy? I am sorry to bother you. I know you must be so busy. Do you have a moment?’
‘Of course, Bev. How can I help?’
‘I suppose I shouldn’t ask, but we’ve just been so upset about these terrible things happening in Northcote Square. We only just heard on the news about Stan Dodworth.
They mentioned suicide, is that right? I mean, did he leave a note? Did it have anything to do with little Tracey? Could he have …’
‘I’m afraid there’s not much I can tell you at the moment, Bev. We haven’t found a confession, if that’s what you were thinking, and we don’t know if it has anything to do with Tracey, but you can be sure that we will get to the bottom of it.’
‘Of course you will. We just…’ She seemed lost for words.‘The poor man. He was always polite when we met him, but very quiet. I felt Tracey didn’t… No, I shouldn’t say that.’
‘Go on,’ Kathy coaxed.
‘Tracey seemed very nervous around him. Maybe it was his manner. His appearance too, all dressed in black, his head shaved like a convict. But he wouldn’t have killed himself because of Tracey, would he?’
She appeared to need reassurance on this. Kathy said, ‘We’ve got no evidence of that, Bev.’
‘I see, yes. Thank you, dear. I am sorry to have bothered you.’
‘If we get any firm news about Tracey, I will phone you, I promise.’
Kathy rang off and saw that the sparrow had gone.
The laboratory liaison officer had encouraging news. The frozen dinner packet that Kathy had spotted in Reg Gilbey’s dustbin had once contained a meal very close to, perhaps identical with, that found in Stan’s stomach.
‘Perhaps?’ Brock pressed.
‘They’re doing chemical tests for additives, but even if they’re identical, it won’t prove that his food came from that particular packet. But we will be able to trace the shop where the packet came from.’
‘Fingerprints? DNA?’
‘No, we couldn’t find either in the rubbish, I’m afraid. But there was a pear, half eaten, in the same plastic bag as the meal packet. They’ve made a cast of the teeth marks and the forensic odontologist over at London Hospital Medical College is preparing a mould to test against Dodworth’s teeth. The trouble is, the pear was bitten into about forty-eight hours ago, and the flesh has lost some of its crispness. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to make a certain match.’
‘Was there anything else in the bag containing the meal packet and the pear that we can definitely link to Reg Gilbey?’
The LO handed Brock the list of items: the plastic food tray from the meal, food scrapings, banana peel, stale bread, a wad of plastic film, a screwed-up paper bag, two crumpled beer cans. Brock shook his head, disappointed. ‘He’ll be able to claim anyone could have dropped it into his bin.’
‘Fraid so.’
‘Still, it should be enough for a search warrant.’
The timing was bad, no doubt about it. Bren’s knock on the door was answered by DI Tom Reeves, whose eyebrows rose at the sight of all those police officers. Kathy realised what his presence meant, but she didn’t have
