‘You ungrateful bastard.’
‘You never answered my question. Am I the prize bull only fit for mating with your daughter or am I going to run this bank as well?’
‘You’ll run it well, but don’t go hitting my daughter.’
‘And you tell her to stop phoning daddy every time there’s a problem, and tell her to back off accusing me of something I did not do.’
***
Isaac still had an arrangement to meet up with Ann, Phillip Loeb’s PA. Their first attempt at getting together had been deferred due to the death of Rasta Joe; their second, scheduled for the weekend coming, looked doubtful as well.
So far, there had been four murders, with one investigation almost wrapped up once Negril Bob was found. One out of four was not good considering the time that had been expended. Isaac had to admit that he was becoming jaundiced by the ongoing investigation; he needed Ann, the attractive and personable PA. He made a phone call. ‘How are you?’ he asked.
‘Fine. Looking forward to the weekend,’ Ann replied. She was in Brighton, he was in London. It was an easy commute and ideal for a relationship, and she was giving hints that it would be more than a meal and a couple of drinks.
Isaac would have liked to spend more time talking to her, but Goddard, his DCS, was making his way into the office.
‘See you at the weekend, I hope,’ Isaac said to Ann and ended the phone call. She was a busy woman, the same as him, she would understand.
‘DCS, what can I do for you?’
‘Brice has been sounding off again on that damn radio programme of his.’
‘The usual?’
‘Yes,’ Goddard said. Isaac could see that he had something on his mind.
‘What is it?’ Isaac asked.
‘Commissioner Davies has had a few wins lately.’
‘He’ll hang on for a while yet?’
‘Until the next terrorist attack, I suppose. It looks as if you and I will be here for a while longer.’
‘If Davies is feeling secure, he’ll attempt to bring in his people.’
‘Be prepared. I’m aware that you and your team are working hard on the current investigations, but I can’t hold the man off for too long.’
‘Is he pushing?’
‘He is. He’s on the phone to me every other day. The man never gives up.’
‘A political animal,’ Isaac said. ‘Pushes when he can; holds back to ride out the storm.’
‘So am I,’ Goddard said. ‘You know that the usurper who took your seat for a while, made a right hash of it, is now a detective superintendent?’
‘Yes, I’ve been told. It grated at the time.’
‘Don’t let it get to you. Incompetency does rise to the top occasionally.’
‘Sometimes I feel like taking the easy life,’ Isaac said.
‘No, you don’t. You’re just frustrated by a difficult investigation, and the imminent interference of Commissioner Davies.’
‘Imminent?’
‘He’s about to start his visits out to see his empire. He’ll be here at some time. It’d be nice if we could head him off at the pass.’
‘By wrapping up this investigation?’
‘What about Brice’s daughter?’
‘We’re drawing blanks. We know the death was not committed by an amateur, but why? The woman was an open book. She was promiscuous, into drugs, and did very little with her life except for sponging off her father. It’s hardly a reason to be killed.’
‘Her father?’
‘We’ve not made any connection. He’s back in the house with his girlfriend, but we’ve never found there to be any animosity between father and daughter. If there had been, it would have been in the woman’s diary.’
‘And the other woman?’
‘Christine Devon. If we solve one, we solve the other.’
‘And her son, is there a tie-in?’
‘We don’t think so. Her son was playing with the big boys; he was running the risk of an early death. His mother must have known that.’
‘It must be difficult to deal with,’ Goddard said. Isaac could see that the man was happy to sit and talk.
‘I remember when Joe Brown became involved with a gang.’
‘Joe Brown?’
‘Rasta Joe.’
Bridget came into the office and gave the two men coffee. Goddard exchanged pleasantries with her; she appreciated his interest in what she was involved with, and how her day was.
‘As you were saying,’ Goddard said.
‘Rasta Joe, he was a good student, good friend, but then the ganja and the lifestyle took over. He enjoyed the life. For a while, his parents tried to bring him back, but it wasn’t possible.’
‘Where are they now?’
‘They’ve both passed on. Just as well, really. A murdered son would have been hard for them, and his mother was a sensitive woman.’
‘The father?’
‘Stern, but fair. Rasta Joe was close to both of them, but after he had left school and joined with a gang on a full-time basis, they went back home toJamaica.’
‘They couldn’t stand to see what their son had become?’
‘That’s it,’ Isaac said.
‘It must be the same with Brice. His daughter’s into drugs and men. And then, she’s not doing much. Brice, you’d have to admit, is a man with a lot of energy, a lot of drive. I listened to him this morning as he was laying into us. Full of fire and brimstone.’
‘But why? We’ve kept the man informed.’
‘Who knows? He’s a complex man; you can’t rule him out as a potential murderer.’
‘He’s not the murderer. It needed an agile person. Brice moves slowly, limps on one leg.’
‘He could be the organiser.’
***
Charisa Devon was doing fine; she had exams coming up, and Troy, the boyfriend, was back from America. With no sign of Negril Bob, there was the inevitable easing of the security surrounding her.
