‘I’ll see what I can do, Tom. No promises.’
She got on the phone when she returned to her desk. Dr Prior was cooperative.
‘Yes, no problem, but could you make it tonight? I’m off to a conference in Germany on Monday and I won’t be back for a while.’
Kathy phoned Tom, who phoned Amy’s school (a small domestic emergency, he explained) to speak to Amy, and within twenty minutes it was arranged.
Tom gave Kathy a lift to Michael Grant’s constituency office in Cockpit Lane in his Subaru, saying he would pick up his daughter while she was busy.
‘I really appreciate you doing this for Amy,’ he said. ‘She’s beside herself.’
‘It’s a pleasure.’ Kathy felt she’d maybe been too defensive about Tom moving into Queen Anne’s Gate. Perhaps things would be all right.‘What do you think about Brock’s idea that the Roaches are behind all the killings?’ she asked.
‘I didn’t like it at first, though I could be convinced. But really, all we’ve got is a possible sighting of two white guys in a crowded pub, twenty-odd years ago. The witness could have got it completely wrong, you know how these things are. Maybe the two guys weren’t white, or maybe they had nothing to do with whatever was scaring Joseph.’
‘I know.’
‘You don’t think Brock’s got himself a mission, do you, putting the past to rights? That’s worrying you, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but you’ve doubted him before, don’t forget, on the Tracy Rudd case, and he was right then. I trust his instincts.’
‘Yeah,’Tom said,as if to himself.‘Loyal Kathy.I like that.’
Tom turned into Cockpit Lane and pulled over to the kerb. ‘Half an hour?’
‘Fine. See you.’ Kathy watched the grin form in his mouth and around his eyes, and realised how much it was growing on her.
A chill east wind buffeted her as she hurried forward. More snow was promised and the wind tasted of it. She noticed a slight, dark figure standing at a shop window filled with PlayStations and digital gear. The face was covered by the hood of a parka and she was almost past before she recognised the glint of Adam Nightingale’s glasses.
‘Hello, Adam. How are you?’
He shrugged, pushing his glasses back up his nose.‘Saw them packing up from the school window. Leaving are they?’
‘Yes.’
He looked forlorn, as if a moment of meaning or excitement in his life was coming to an end, and she felt sorry for him.‘You’re interested in that forensic stuff, are you?’
He nodded.
‘Actually I’m on my way over to the laboratories where they’re working on the skeletons, reconstructing their faces.’
‘Wow. Cool. I wish . . .’ His sentence trailed off into inarticulate silence.
‘Well, I could probably arrange for you to come, but we’d have to get your mother’s permission.’
‘She’s at work.’ He whipped a mobile phone out of his jacket pocket and offered it to her.Kathy watched him press the keys,then she took the phone and spoke to his mother, who was delighted that someone was willing to take Adam off the streets for an hour or two.
‘Okay,’Kathy said to the boy.‘I’ve got some business to do.Be here in half an hour.’
The shopfront next to the pub was plastered with pictures of the MP’s handsomely smiling face alongside public service posters reading, ‘Stop the Guns’, ‘Crack Kills’, ‘Let’s Work Together’. She pushed open the door and stepped into a fug of heat and clamour, Magic FM competing with clattering keyboards, a whistling kettle and a group of women arguing loudly over the messages on a noticeboard. An electrician stood on top of a stepladder fixing a light, and in the middle of it all, oblivious to the turmoil, Michael Grant posed for a photograph being taken by a reporter from the local paper. Grant was wearing jeans and a T-shirt with the slogan OUR STRUGGLE and a clenched black fist.
He caught sight of Kathy and clapped the reporter on the shoulder and swung over to her.‘Hi! DS Kolla,right?’
She shook his hand, unable to resist the dazzle of his smile. It wasn’t just the mouth; his whole face seemed animated by it, and as they spoke he focused on her as if nothing else in the world interested him. A politician’s trick perhaps, she thought, but he did it brilliantly.
‘Come through and meet Kerrie, my office manager.’ They manoeuvred around the stepladder and approached a young black woman sitting behind a desk, arguing with someone on the other end of the phone, smacking the file in front of her to emphasise her point. She put the phone down and nodded at Grant.
‘He’ll see you at noon tomorrow. I’ll line up the media.’
‘Well done, Kerrie! Didn’t think you’d do it. This is DS Kolla from Scotland Yard.’
‘Kathy.’
‘Hello.Yes, we’ve got one or two leads for you.’ She handed Grant a sheet of paper.‘I’d better get on with organising things for tomorrow, Michael.’
‘You go ahead. I’ll take care of Kathy.’ He waved her through to a seat in a quieter area at the back of the shop and poured them both cups of coffee from a percolator.
‘It may not look like it, Kathy, but this is a war room. We’re involved in a life and death struggle, literally.’ He tapped the slogan on his chest. ‘This isn’t idle rhetoric. We have a three-pronged youth crisis here-unemployment, drugs and crime. My job is to motivate my community to action, to break the vicious circle. We’re on the same side, Kathy, and we’ll do anything we can to help you take the drug kings, the crime bosses, out of the picture.’
‘Right, I appreciate that, sir.’
‘Michael, please.’ He glanced at the sheet of paper.‘These are people we’ve found who can remember Joseph. They’ve all expressed a willingness to help. To save you having to traipse all over the district, one of the girls on the front desk can set up times when they can come in here to talk with you, if that suits. I think they’d feel more comfortable here than at the police station.’
Kathy scanned the list, half a dozen names and addresses. ‘That’s great.You’re doing my job for me.’
‘It’s a start.’
‘We’re making up posters of the three victims on the railway land. This is what we’ve got so far.’ Kathy handed him photographs of Dr Prior’s reconstructions.‘Joseph Kidd and the one we believe was called Walter.’
Grant gasped as he took in the lifelike images.‘How on earth did you get these?’
Kathy explained.‘Do you recognise them?’
‘Yes . . .Well, Joseph, certainly. It’s very close. The other one looks familiar, but I’m not sure.’
Kathy handed him the third image, based on Winnie’s sketchy memory of the other member of the Tosh Posse.‘This is the one we have the least information about-no name and no skull to make a reconstruction from.’
Grant stared for a moment, then shook his head. ‘No. This means nothing to me. But once you have the posters we can put them in the front window here, and I’m sure we can persuade shopkeepers in the area to do the same.’
‘You’re being very helpful, Michael. Thank you.’
They arranged for Grant’s office to set up interviews on the following Monday, and Kathy left. Adam was waiting outside.
The Subaru drew up a few minutes later and Tom got out and spoke to Kathy and Adam while Amy waited in the car, watching. Kathy led the boy over to introduce him.
‘Adam, this is Inspector Reeves’s daughter Amy, who wants to be a forensic pathologist. Amy, this is Adam, who is helping us with our inquiries.’ She paused while Amy’s face froze at the form of words.‘He’s coming with us.’
‘Coming with us?’ she whispered.‘In our car?’
‘Yes, that’s all right, isn’t it?’ Then she added casually, ‘Adam was the one who found the skeletons.’
‘Oh! It was you? You got the electric shock? Everyone’s been talking about you at school.’
