Once the coffeewas drunk, the paracetamols had kicked in and the Mac was up and running,Morton loaded up YouTube and typed the words ‘Chief Constable OliviaWalker’. Four hits. Chief Constable Olivia Walker swaps policingduties for a taster with Kent Fire and Rescue; Kent Chief Constable OliviaWalker gets tasered; Appointment of Chief Constable Olivia Walker; ChiefConstable Olivia Walker welcomes Defence Secretary to Ashford. Mortonclicked the last hyperlink and watched a thirty-three second video clip of theSecretary of Defence shaking hands with a uniformed woman. The quality ofthe video (from a cheap mobile by the looks of things) was so terrible that theuniformed officer could just as easily have been Juliette as the woman he’dseen yesterday in the pinstripe suit. The first video clip showed OliviaWalker speaking directly to the camera about what she’d learnt by becoming afire officer for the day. The clip had the Meridian News logo inthe bottom left corner and, consequently, the video resolution was much higherand Morton could identify, beyond reasonable doubt, that she was the woman he’dseen yesterday at Charingsby. The same woman who’d been in charge of theinvestigation into Mary Coldrick’s death was overseeing the investigation intoPeter Coldrick’s death. The same woman licensed on Daniel Dunk’scar. With that in mind, Morton watched with gleeful Schadenfreudeas Olivia Walker was willingly tasered by one of her minions. She seemedto be overacting, as if the video was actually for propaganda purposes. The last clip was filmed at a press conference where ‘Cllr Paul Buzzard’ announcedthat Olivia Walker was, by unanimous decision of the panel, to become the newChief Constable of Kent Police. Morton watched as the camera panned tothe right and Olivia read a short statement about how proud she was to beleading one of England’s largest forces in crime prevention anddetection. Morton wondered what part of crime prevention and detectionher association with the Windsor-Sackvilles and Daniel Dunk had played?
Morton recalledwhat Juliette had said about it not being possible that he had seen Oliviacanoodling with Philip Windsor-Sackville, as he was happily married to someoneelse. Just to be clear in his own mind, Morton returned to www.windsor-sackville.organd clicked the ‘Family Tree’ tab. Philip Windsor-Sackville had beenmarried to Andrea Rhys-Jones since 1971. Judging by the unflatteringphoto of her on the website, where she seemed to have been snapped unawares, itseemed a classic case of her being traded in for a younger, more successful,more beautiful model. Arise Chief Constable Olivia Walker. Mortonhad to concede that Andrea did look a bit of a dowdy old frump. Still,she had borne him three children, all of whom were in the lower political ranksof government – one was the Junior Minister for the Environment - and thatought to count for something.
‘Look. See, I told you,’ Morton said, dumping the laptop down in the space he’dvacated in the bed. Juliette looked like she hadn’t moved a muscle sincehe’d got up more than an hour ago.
‘What now?’Juliette moaned, struggling to open her eyes.
‘PhilipWindsor-Sackville is married to her, not Olivia Walker,’ he said like atriumphant primary school child.
‘Jesus, Morton,it’s Saturday morning. Go away,’ she said, turning her back sharply andalmost heaving the new laptop off the bed. She pulled the duvet over herhead and disappeared into a sleepy cocoon.
Taking thehint, he shut down the laptop and dressed in a new outfit from Jeremy’swardrobe. It was a big cliché, but his gay brother’s wardrobe wasinfinitely more stylish than his own had ever been. He mentally wentthrough his own wardrobe, considering all of his clothes that had gone up insmoke. Perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing to start all over again, he thought,as he rooted through Jeremy’s underwear drawer. Even Jeremy’s boxershorts were all Calvin Kleins. How had he not suspected anything? It certainly made him more interesting, especially since he was in the army -of all the careers that he could have chosen. In the process of tellingJeremy what had gone on in the past few days, Morton had confessed to borrowingvarious items of clothing. Jeremy had just grinned and said it was fine,that he could help himself.
Morton lookedat his watch – ten twenty. Was ten twenty on a Saturday considered tooearly to disturb someone by phone? Maybe for some people but it wasSoraya Benton that he wanted to call and she probably would have been woken byFinlay several hours ago. Ideally, he had wanted to visit her, but thatinvolved too long a round trip with a banging head; not the best ofideas. Besides which, the paramedics had told him to rest for twenty-fourhours and definitely not to drive. He felt bad for not having madecontact with Soraya since Peter’s funeral, but then what could he havesaid? How did the cremation go? It was hardly a questionthat needed asking, much less answering. He pulled out his iPhone,dialled her mobile and hoped for the best. She answered after severalrings and sounded slightly breathless, as if she’d just run in from thegarden. ‘Sorry, it’s just Morton,’ he said, feeling the need toapologise.
‘Oh, hi,’ shesaid, sounding immediately brighter. ‘I was just cleaning Fin’sroom. It’s like a bomb’s gone off in there. I’m trying to keep ittidy, what with it being my sister’s study and all. Oh God, bomb’sgone off, sorry, Morton. I wasn’t thinking.’
‘It’s fine,’ hesaid, ‘really,’ having not actually made the connection between what she hadsaid and his own demolished house. ‘I had a couple of things I needed toask you about. Is now a good time to talk?’
‘Yeah, fireaway. Fin’s at his friend’s all day and I’m just doing housework. I’d be glad of the distraction.’
‘It’s a bitdelicate, really. I don’t know how you feel and I really won’t beoffended…’ Morton began, only to be interrupted.
‘Oh, spit itout, for goodness' sake, Morton,’ she said playfully.
‘Sorry. Iwas wondering how you might feel about me taking
