find a mobile phone in the pocket of Peebles’ jeans. This is being given priority.
‘The rest of the house looked as if Peebles had been living there for several days. Judging by the bottles, frozen-food packets and dirty dishes, it looked as if he was doing most of his eating and drinking there and not going out for meals. We’ve started door-knocking the street and surrounding area, including the local off-licence and supermarket, and of course the CCTV cameras in the vicinity.’
Bren paused, and Brock said, ‘Any other drugs in the house?’
‘Not that we’ve found so far. But I did wonder if there could be a drug angle to this. Suppose Moszynski was using his companies to bring drugs into the country and had upset some locals, who decided to bring in an outside contractor to take care of him.’
‘Hm. What do we know about Peebles? Any gangland drug connections there?’
Kathy spoke. ‘We’ve got his record, and yes, plenty of drug connections. He was gaoled twice for dealing and his last spell in Barlinnie was for the killing of a user who owed one of the big Glasgow drug gangs a lot of money. The Crown Office settled for manslaughter. Peebles was also a heroin user. He was on drug and alcohol rehabilitation programs while he was inside. No known connections to London dealers though. He told his parole officer about an offer of work in London, and was given permission to go south for a trial period of one week.’
‘Maybe Moszynski was moving into the Scottish market and upsetting people up there,’ Bren suggested.
‘Anything else, Kathy?’ Brock felt drained, remembering that he was due to take another Tamiflu tablet.
‘We’ve been checking the cameras at Heathrow to see if Peebles was met off his flight on Wednesday, but nothing so far.’
‘Right.’ Brock stood up. ‘Well done, everyone. Go home and get a good night’s sleep. We’ve got plenty to follow up tomorrow.’
As he made his way out Kathy caught up with him and said, ‘One other thing. I thought I’d have the text of the letter that Moszynski sent to The Times authenticated.’
‘Haven’t we done that already?’
‘The notepaper and signature were passed by forensics, but we should make sure the language was his. We can compare it with other letters he sent to newspapers. But the thing is that the two specialists the Yard normally uses are both unavailable. There is someone else, a Canadian staying in the hotel next to the Moszynskis in Chelsea, where Nancy Haynes was also staying. He’s had experience doing this kind of work for the police in Canada. In fact, it was he who suggested to me we should get it done. I thought I might ask him to have a look.’
Brock gazed at her for a moment and thought he detected a slight awkwardness in her manner. It did sound a bit odd.
‘Have I met him?’
‘I don’t think so, no. His name is John Greenslade, a professor of linguistics at McGill University. I’ve checked him out.’
‘So he’s not a possible suspect?’
Kathy hesitated. ‘Well, I suppose no one in Cunningham Place is completely in the clear until we find whoever was paying Peebles. But it seems unlikely.’
Brock frowned and rubbed his chin. ‘I remember the hotel, but haven’t been inside. When I get on top of things I must go and take a good look. Okay, go ahead.’
It was almost ten o’clock that night when Kathy called in at Cunningham Place on her way back to her flat in Finchley. She might have left it till the following day, but told herself it would be another job done.
Deb was at her usual station at the front desk, the radio playing softly behind her. She looked up at the sound of the front door bell and cried, ‘Aha! Congratulations!’
Kathy hesitated. ‘Sorry?’
‘It was on the news just now. A breakthrough in the Chelsea murder cases. You’ve got somebody.’
‘That was quick. Yes, we had a bit of luck today.’
Toby had heard the noise and appeared, a glass of Scotch in hand. He raised it. ‘Well done. It was definitely him, was it, that murdered Nancy?’
‘We believe so, yes.’
‘In heaven’s name why? Drugs, I suppose?’
‘We’re looking into that.’
‘You look tired, dear,’ Deb said. ‘Can we get you something?’
‘A drink?’ Toby offered.
Kathy suppressed a yawn. ‘No, thanks. I just came to have a quick word with Mr Greenslade, if he’s in.’
She was aware of them giving her quizzical looks. Toby lowered his glass. ‘He’s surely not involved, is he?’
‘No. There’s just something he might be able to help me with.’
‘Really?’ They eyed the files under her arm, then Deb said, ‘Yes, I believe he is in. Let me give him a ring.’
She picked up the phone and dialled, and after a moment purred, ‘John, dear? You have a visitor,’ in such a suggestive tone that Kathy winced and wished she’d arranged to meet him at the local police station.
‘Would you like to use the guests’ lounge, Inspector?’ Deb said. ‘There’s no one in there.’
‘Fine, thanks.’
When John appeared his hair was dishevelled and he looked as if he’d been asleep.
‘Sorry to disturb you so late,’ Kathy said.
‘No, not at all. I was doing some last-minute editing on the paper I have to deliver at the conference tomorrow, and I fell asleep. It’s one thing to nod off during somebody else’s lecture, but falling asleep during your own is a very bad sign. So what can I do for you?’
‘I’ve had approval to ask you to look at Moszynski’s letter.’
He straightened and his face lit up. ‘Really? That’s great.’
‘I have some papers here you’ll have to sign-the terms of your appointment and a confidentiality agreement.’
‘Sure.’
He pulled a pair of glasses out of his pocket and Kathy watched him as he quickly scanned the pages. The glasses made him look older and more serious.
‘Not a problem,’ he said at last. ‘Got a pen?’
He scrawled several signatures then said, ‘We’ll need to get hold of some comparable things he’s written in English.’
She handed him the file. ‘We’ve found these other letters he’s written to newspapers.’
‘Excellent.’ He pondered for a moment. ‘Do you know how he composes the letters? I mean, does he dictate them into a machine or to a typist, does he write a draft longhand, or does he type them on a computer?’
‘We can ask his secretary.’
‘Yeah, that would be good. I’d like to know if someone else edited them before they were finalised.’
‘Do you need to speak to her yourself?’
‘It might be as well.’
He was giving his conference paper the next morning, and would be free after one p.m. Kathy said she’d arrange something for the afternoon and text him with the details.
‘I do appreciate you asking me to do this. I was afraid you didn’t trust me. Did you have to okay it with your boss, DCI Brock?’
‘Yes, so don’t let me down, John.’
FIFTEEN
S undeep Mehta had Harry Peebles’ naked body on the stainless-steel table, carefully checking his arms and torso and between his fingers and toes for puncture marks.
‘How long has he been out of prison?’
