At the Christmas Day race, it had been Archie, the most unlikely of the four, who had taken the bronze medal, the other three just finishing.
A wave of nostalgia swept over Isaac, good times past. One of the police divers surfaced and came over to where he was standing.
‘Not much to see down there,’ the diver said, once he had removed his mouthpiece. ‘No visibility, not that it’s deep, but it’s the mud. As soon as we probe around, up it comes.’
‘No sign of a wallet?’
‘An old bike, even a shopping trolley, a few sad looking fish, but no wallet. We’ll try for a couple more hours, and then we’ll have to call it quits.’
‘Thanks for trying,’ Isaac said as he moved away. He hadn’t expected them to find anything; a serious jogger always travels light, although not finding a debit card inside the mobile phone cover was unusual. Even he carried little cash nowadays, preferring to flash the card across the machine when he was buying fuel or even a lifeless ham and cheese sandwich, as he had that day.
And now the trip to Jamaica was off, and he had to phone the travel agent, and then phone Jenny, and then…
After the look on her face when he had left, he wasn’t sure what to say to her. She deserved better, but he had a murder enquiry, although many would say that a personal relationship took precedence over work, and his leave had been approved, and that he should go. But that wasn’t how he was wired, he knew that. To him, a murder enquiry was personal, and whoever was responsible, they were answerable to him. It was he as the senior investigating officer and his team who would solve the crime and bring the perpetrator to account.
***
It was late on the first day, and the team were in the office in Challis Street. ‘The clothes and the shoes were good quality,’ Bridget said. ‘I’ve seen an initial report from Forensics.’
‘I’ve not,’ Isaac said. He was leaning back on his chair, not unusual for him when the heat was on. He had just finished speaking to Jenny back at their flat. She had sounded fine, but he was sure she was not. He knew that when he finally arrived home, much later, she would want to talk, whereas he would not. It wasn’t directed at her, but after a hard and long day, with a surfeit of facts to digest, an attempt to separate the murder from his personal life was necessary, even if he rarely succeeded.
He knew that Larry would use alcohol as the means of separation, but he had never been a drinker, not even in his youth. Larry wasn’t the first police officer who had used alcohol as a crutch. But Larry was on his team, and he didn’t intend to lose the man due to alcoholism, an easy way to be drummed out of the police force.
‘You will soon,’ Bridget said. ‘I’ve got a contact down there, let’s me see it before it’s been signed off by the Forensics officer.’
‘What does it say?’
‘The clothing and shoes could have been purchased in England, as well as overseas. I’ll work on it tomorrow, contact the importer, find out where the stock had been dispatched.’
‘Any more, seeing that you have friends in high places?’ Isaac said, a smile on his face, not that he felt jovial.
‘The SIM card in the phone. Vodafone, purchased in a supermarket probably, prepaid.’
‘A tourist?’
‘We can’t be certain. Plenty of people don’t want to tie themselves to contracts, others have more than one phone.’
‘And some toss the phone and the SIM card out after a week.’
‘Criminals would, but the man had the latest iPhone,’ Larry said. ‘If he were a criminal, then he would have purchased something cheap.’
‘The media?’ Isaac asked.
‘A death in Hyde Park, Chinese tourists, no more than a five-minute walk to Kensington Palace. It’s touched the public’s imagination, the fear that the man’s death was not random, and there’s a madman on the loose,’ Larry said.
‘Just what we need, public hysteria.’
‘Not yet, but it could become that if there are more.’
‘It would have needed something for him to have stayed in the water,’ Larry said.
‘Have you swum in there?’
‘Not likely. Too much dirt and duck poo for me.’
‘The dirt’s on the bottom, but it’s cold, freezing cold.’
‘You’ve been in?’ Wendy asked.
‘Not recently. The water comes from three bores in the park; it used to be fed from the River Westbourne, but that’s been diverted underneath and around the lake. If he wasn’t a good swimmer, the cold would have sapped his strength on contact with the water, and then panic sets in, and if it was dark, the man, uncertain of his bearings, strikes out for shore. Confusion, fear, possibly jet-lagged if he’s a tourist, and then death.’
‘Sad way to die,’ Wendy said.
‘Who was he? We need to know and within twenty-four hours,’ Isaac said.
‘Six in the morning meeting?’ Bridget said.
‘Until we solve the murder.’
‘Jamaica?’
‘It’s off for the time being.’
‘Someone will be disappointed,’ Wendy said.
Isaac chose to ignore Wendy’s comment, true as it was. He stood up, put on his jacket and left the office. Tomorrow was another day; he knew that tonight at home was another problem.
***
Torrential rain greeted Isaac as he left his flat at five o’clock the next morning, but it was a welcome relief from the frosty atmosphere inside.
He knew that he’d have to make it up to Jenny, and as soon as the
