Cathy came on the line sounding equally knackered and I heard Carrier telling her in the background that I’d sworn at him. You had to hand it to the bloke, he was a born whistleblower. There wasn’t a tale he wouldn’t tell. Cathy told me that she thought we’d got over all the childish namecalling and I apologized, thinking that that would be the easiest tactic, and asked whether I was still having Rachel the following weekend.
‘Well, can you fit it in round your work?’ she asked, with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. ‘The last time you were meant to have her—’
‘I know, I know. I’ll make sure I’ve got the time off. I haven’t seen her in close to a month. I won’t let her down.’
‘You promise? I’m not having her looking forward to seeing you and then you dashing her hopes.’
‘He can’t be allowed to do that again,’ said Carrier in the background. ‘Just because he’s unreliable.’
Not for the first time, I tried to understand what Cathy saw in the bastard. I’d always thought of her as a pretty decent judge of character, someone who knew a creep when she saw one, so it was doubly disheartening to have my view proved so emphatically wrong.
‘I promise,’ I said wearily. ‘I mean it. I’ll come and get her Friday evening and bring her back Sunday.’
‘Thanks, that’d be nice. Come about six, can you?’
‘Sure, six is fine.’ I started to say something else but she cut me short, saying she wanted to get back to sleep.
‘See you on Friday,’ she said, trying to sound pleasant, and hung up, leaving me staring at the phone and thinking that she never used to lie in that late on a Sunday.
‘Morning, John. Nice to see you in bright and early.’
I looked up to see Capper come walking in, his suit jacket slung jauntily over one arm, a cheesy smile on his face. There were already sweat stains appearing on the underarms of his faded yellow shirt. It was, I thought, strange how unpleasant people often had unpleasant side-effects to their normal bodily functions. Perhaps it was some sort of divine justice, a punishment from God. I liked to think so.
‘Morning, sir.’
‘Everything all right?’ He motioned towards the phone and I wondered if the bastard had been listening in. Probably.
‘Fine. And you?’
‘Very well. Had a quiet evening in and an early night for once. Done me the world of good.’ He dropped the jacket at his desk, and walked over to the kettle. ‘Do you want a coffee?’
‘No thanks. I’ve just this minute finished one.’
Capper made general small talk as he prepared his coffee and waited for the kettle to boil, and I played the game, sounding interested and occasionally making comments of my own. The thing about Capper was that he was nice to you if he thought you were going to be useful to him and he clearly thought I had potential, that maybe I wasn’t going to be stuck under him for ever, which I suppose was one good thing. I think he also thought we got on well and, although I couldn’t stand him, it suited me to remain cordial. One thing I’d learnt in the Force was that you never make enemies unless you have to. Pragmatism. That was what it was all about.
Capper grabbed a chair and sat down on the other side of my desk with his coffee. ‘How did it go with the doormen yesterday?’ he asked, after explaining that his absence from duty the previous day had been down to a ‘family matter’, whatever that was meant to mean. Capper was a bachelor who looked like the sort of person any right-minded sibling or parent would avoid like greasy dogshit on the pavement. He sat there now with a think-of-me-as-one-of-the-guys smile, showing yellowing teeth, etched firmly on his face.
I gave him a brief rundown, explaining that we hadn’t got much that we didn’t know already, but mentioning the possible girlfriend lead, as well as John Harris, the doorman who’d fallen out with Matthews.
‘Who’s chasing Harris?’ he asked.
‘The DCI gave it to WDC Boyd. She’s on it today, apparently.’
He nodded, satisfied. I didn’t tell him about the Vamen/SO7 angle. Knox would probably bring it up at the meeting the following day but for the moment it could wait. I didn’t want Capper sniffing round and taking hold of leads I’d worked hard to build up myself. ‘No sign of Fowler yet, then?’ he asked.
‘Nothing at all. He might have a connection to this Jean Tanner, though.’
‘How’s that, then?’
‘You know I said she was a prostitute? Apparently she used to work at a brothel which was or is supposedly run by Fowler.’
‘Really?’
‘A place called Heavenly Girls.’
Capper tried to hide it but I saw immediately that he knew the name, and that for some reason he wanted to keep that knowledge quiet. ‘Hmm, that’s interesting.’ His words tailed off, and we sat in silence for a few moments. ‘Where did you hear about this brothel?’ he asked eventually.
‘From McBride, the one who gave us most of the information.’
‘I’ve never heard of the place,’ he said, a little too forcefully. ‘Do you reckon he was telling the truth?’
I shrugged, not bothering to mention that we’d effectively blackmailed the information out of him. ‘I would have thought so. There’d be no point lying about something like that, would there?’
Capper nodded, acknowledging this fact. ‘No, I suppose there wouldn’t.’
At that moment, Berrin came in, looking dishevelled but considerably better than he had the previous morning.
‘A bit late, Berrin,’ said Capper, getting to his feet.
Berrin quickly apologized to both Capper and me in that order, and took a seat. Capper told him bluntly to get his house in order and went back to his own desk. He might have thought that I was potentially useful, but he clearly didn’t feel the same way about the younger officer. Plus, Berrin was a graduate, and though he
