recorded and filmed. Then he called Bren.
Bren stared at the photographs in disbelief, then looked at Brock. There was a question written all over his face, but he wasn’t going to put it into words.
‘I’m sorry, Bren,’ Brock said. ‘I had to do this on my own. There are ramifications…’
‘The review of Special Operations, you mean?’
‘You know about that?’
‘I’ve heard rumours. Beaufort is involved.’
‘Yes, and I’ve been specifically ordered to leave him alone.’
‘But you can’t ignore evidence like this!’
‘No, of course not, provided it’s genuine. Morris Munns has had a look, and thinks these three may be genuine, and this one a fabrication. But he can’t swear to it. They could all be fakes. This may just be a ploy byWylie to stop us looking at his emails.’
‘That’s what he wants to trade?’
Brock watched Bren turn this over, visibly uncomfortable as he weighed the options. ‘Maybe… maybe you should cover your back. Get clearance from higher up. Talk to Sharpe.’
‘If I do that without firm evidence, he’ll stop me. It’s just too difficult for them at this moment. Look, I’ve got Wylie being brought here for interview in half an hour. I want to get something solid out of him. I wouldn’t mind some help, but I’ll understand if you don’t want to be involved at this stage.’
‘Come off it, Brock, you know I’m in. How do you want to play it?’
They talked it through until the word came that Wylie and his solicitor had arrived. Bren got to his feet and Brock said,‘Let them wait for a while.’
Twenty minutes later Bren opened the door to the interview room and walked in alone. The two men seated at the table interrupted their argument and looked up at him in surprise.
‘Mr Wylie?’Bren said, and gave a yawn.‘I’m DI Gurney, and you are
…?’
‘Russell Clifford, Mr Wylie’s legal representative. Is DCI Brock coming? We’ve been waiting now for…’
‘Sorry about that. There’s a lot going on. DCI Brock may not be able to make it.’
‘But he called me!’ Clifford complained. ‘He arranged this.’
‘Did he? Well, he’s very busy at the moment, another murder in the area. Most of us have been up half the night.’
‘That’s all very well…’
Wylie interrupted his solicitor.‘What murder?’
‘In Northcote Square, another one of the artists there.’ Bren paused, noting the alarm on Wylie’s face. ‘Anyway, I understand you want to give us some information, is that right?’ He opened the file and scanned it as if he’d never seen it before, oblivious to the whispered conversation across the table. ‘Oh, you’re the gentleman with the lost emails. I heard about that.’ Bren beamed happily at him. ‘Shouldn’t have much longer to wait now, sir. We’re expecting them any day, you’ll be glad to know.’
Wylie and Clifford stared at Bren as if at an imbecile. The solicitor recovered first. ‘Look, we want to speak to DCI Brock, no one else. Please get him on his phone and tell him we’re here.’
The amiable smile vanished from Bren’s face and his voice took on an icy menace.‘You’re not trying to tell me how to do my job, are you, sir? It so happens that it’s quite likely that DCI Brock won’t be dealing with you any more. I may be taking over his caseload, and I’ve got plenty more important things to do than sit around listening to your helpful suggestions. If you’ve got something to tell me then say it, otherwise get lost.’
The two appeared stunned, Wylie itching with the onset of panic. ‘Has DCI Brock not briefed you about the evidence I gave him?’
‘What evidence?’
‘Photographs.’ Wylie wheezed. He seemed to have trouble speaking.
Bren carelessly thumbed through the file. ‘No photographs here. What were they of?’
Wylie dabbed his face with a handkerchief and Clifford broke in quickly.‘They were of a confidential nature, and…’
‘Confidential?’ Bren loaded the word with such scorn that the solicitor’s mouth snapped shut. Then Bren leaned forward across the table and said suspiciously, ‘He wasn’t offering you some kind of deal, was he? He’s ruffled a few feathers around here. Don’t expect any favours from me.’
It was at that moment that Brock burst into the room. He appeared harassed and out of breath. ‘Ah, DI Gurney…’ He and Bren eyed each other mistrustfully. ‘I didn’t realise they were with you.’
‘I thought you were otherwise engaged, sir.’ He put unnecessary stress on the last word.
Wylie and Clifford looked from one to the other as if catching a glimpse of some chaotic office feud in which they had no bearings.
‘No, no. I’ve got time for this.’ Brock paused, then added unhappily,‘Ah, I see you’ve got the file. Well, I’ll take over now.’
‘I’d like to stay, sir.’
‘You haven’t been fully briefed.’
‘All the more reason,’ Bren insisted stolidly.
Brock took a deep breath as if summoning his last remaining strength. ‘I’d like a few words with Mr Wylie alone first, Inspector. I’ll call you when I’m ready to begin the formal interview.’
Bren looked angry, but got to his feet and slowly walked out of the room. Brock sat down in his place and leaned forward across the table to switch off the microphone.‘He can watch us,’he said quietly,‘but he can’t hear us.’
‘What the hell’s going on?’Wylie said.
‘There’s nothing I can do for you. I can’t stall the application for your emails, and they’ll probably take you back to prison tonight.’
‘Jesus.’ Wylie went even paler. ‘What about the pictures?’
‘Useless. They’re digital, aren’t they? I’ve had one of our top experts look at them and he says they’d be useless in court. They’re probably all fakes.’
‘No! I…I know they’re not.’
‘The last one, with the two of them in bed, he says that’s definitely a fake, not a very good one. The others he couldn’t be so sure about, but if one’s bad…’
‘All right, that one maybe.’Wylie was talking very fast now, the words tumbling out.‘I can’t rightly vouch for that one, but the others, I swear-I was there.’
‘Where, exactly?’
‘In the square, and in the gallery.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘I was giving Pat Abbott a lift one day and he asked me to drop him off at the gallery to meet this sculptor friend he was doing business with. Beaufort was there-I recognised him. The sculptor and the owner were trying to get him to buy some of their stuff. Pat and I hung around in the back, waiting for them to finish, then Beaufort came into the next room. I could see him through the blind. Then the girl came in, and I took those pictures. They’re real, believe me.’
Wylie was giving off an unpleasant odour as a sweat stain spread across his prison T-shirt. Brock eased his chair back into fresher air, brow furrowed as if struggling for a solution.
‘So you knew Beaufort, did you?’
Wylie nodded, a sly look in his eyes.‘We go way back. He was a customer of mine, years ago.’
‘A customer?’
‘When I had the shop. Adult material, pictures of little girls, imported stuff.’
Brock said, ‘People will find that hard to believe. Between you and him, whose word will they accept?’
‘I can prove it.’ He turned to his lawyer, who, looking unhappy, reached for his briefcase and drew out a yellow envelope which he handed to his client. Wylie glanced up at the camera watching them from the corner of the room and gestured to Brock to lean in closer. He drew two sheets from the envelope and slid them across. One was a photograph of two men on either side of a shop counter. They were viewed from a high angle and the quality was not good, like a grainy still from a security camera, but it was still possible to identify Wylie handing something,
