Gregory's Game (23 page)

‘Well, apart from the photographs, precisely because he's been around for a long time. He knows a lot, has seen people come and go, get locked up, get dead.'

‘And why would he shop Nathan Crow to us?'

Vin laughed. ‘I asked that too. The local DS I talked to reckons Franks will do anything for devilment. But it occurred to me—'

‘That Nathan Crow is too canny to have left anything behind by accident,' Tess finished. ‘You think he arranged this with Bernie Franks?'

‘Um, don't know what to think. About any of this, if I'm honest. I know you shouldn't think like this, but you know what really gets to me? I don't like any of them. I mean, you can usually empathize with the victims, with the families, even with the people you interview on the periphery of it, you know?'

Tess nodded.

‘But Ian Marsh, I mean the guy is so cold, somehow. It's like he's going through the motions. And that Crow guy – it's like he's superior, or thinks he is. Same with that photographer and her husband. It's like they think they're special, somehow, you know what I mean?'

‘I know what you mean,' Tess said.

‘And I keep thinking about Katherine Marsh and her little girl and wondering how the hell she got mixed up with someone like Ian Marsh in the first place. And I don't quite know why I feel like that about him. He's a nice enough man, comes over as ordinary and helpless and scared and … But it's like there's something else going on, you know?'

Tess nodded again, remembering her last meeting with Professor Marsh. He had scared her, she realized now. Not by anything he'd really said or anything he'd really done, but just that … what had Vin called it? That undercurrent.

She glanced up from the files she had been perusing on Vin's tablet. ‘Well,' she said, ‘you might be glad to hear that Bernie Franks looks like he's just a good old-fashioned villain.'

Vin laughed. ‘I don't believe that,' he said. ‘He'll have his secrets and his undercurrents just like the rest of them. I've been chatting to Jaz,' he said. ‘She reckons we got a visit from a mysterious man in black the other day. Reckon's Branch was most put out.'

Tess squinted at him. ‘Johnny Cash?' she asked.

‘What? No and not Will Smith either. And no, we've not had any UFO sightings. Home Office, Jaz reckons. She's having to send regular reports to him on the QT.'

‘Not so much on the quiet if she's telling you.'

‘Jaz likes me,' Vin said. He grinned. Truth was he liked Jaz too and Tess wondered why they didn't just get on with it and become the item most people wrongly assumed they already were. ‘The Gustav Clay connection, I suppose. Vin, what do you make of Ian Marsh?'

‘You really don't like the man, do you?'

She shrugged, not sure why she held back on telling her partner what had happened on the Friday. The unease she had felt; the sudden change in the professor's demeanour.

N
aomi had arranged to meet Patrick in town on the Tuesday morning, a day he had only one lecture. They'd spend some time shopping and meet Harry and his mother for lunch. Alec had said he'd try to join them.

Naomi valued her friendship with this son of her oldest friend and it wasn't unusual for them to do things together, but the invitation to shop had come out of the blue and she guessed there was something on his mind. George Mallard's son dropped her outside the new shopping centre that had opened up in the spring.

‘Looks like he's already here.'

‘He would be. Patrick is as punctual as his dad.'

‘Maybe I could get him to give lessons to my two. I have to tell them we're leaving immediately half an hour before we go anywhere.'

He helped Naomi from the car, checked that she'd got a lift home and then drove away.

‘Hi,' Patrick said. ‘Thank you for coming.'

‘Pleasure,' Naomi said. ‘So what are we doing this morning?'

Patrick slipped his arm through hers. She'd left Napoleon with Alec, knowing Patrick was more than capable of looking after her and that it would probably be easier with just the two of them in the shopping crowd.

‘Three things,' Patrick said. ‘One I really need your help with and so does dad. It's Gran's seventieth in about ten days' time and we want to get her something special, so we could do with some advice.'

‘OK. And the other two things?'

‘Well, one is a uni assignment. I've chosen to do a mini module on portraiture. It's one of the optional things and I thought I'd get on better with something that was kind of less abstract. I would like to paint you, if that's all right. We're supposed to be exploring our subjects. I thought I'd rather explore someone I know.'

Naomi laughed. ‘You know how I hate having my photo taken. I think being painted is going to be much worse.' She could sense his disappointment and said hastily, ‘But for you, yes, of course, that's fine.'

‘Good.' Patrick relaxed. ‘I'll make it as painless as I can. The third thing is Gregory.'

‘Gregory. Right. Harry mentioned he'd appeared. I've seen him too. Is he upsetting you?'

‘What? Oh, no, nothing like that. He's fine. I like him, actually.' Patrick took a deep breath and then said, ‘He knows this artist I really admire. He's called Bob Taylor and I wondered … I wondered if you thought it would be out of order if I asked Gregory if he'd ask Bob Taylor to maybe look at some of my work.'

Wow, Naomi thought.
Of all the things I thought you were going to ask
.

‘I mean,' Patrick went on, ‘I know it's maybe an imposition but there are things he does … there's this kind of ethereal quality to his work and I don't know how he does it. He just seems to catch the moment, the second, like he's frozen it, you know what I mean. I knew his work before, but after Gregory mentioned him, I took a better look.'

And you were star-struck, Naomi thought. ‘Ask him,' she said. ‘Does he know this Bob Taylor well?'

‘I don't know. You don't think he'd mind?'

‘I think if he thought it was inappropriate he'd tell you. Gregory is very direct.'

‘True. OK, thanks,' Patrick said. ‘Now what the hell are we going to get for Gran's birthday?'

‘So, did we actually gain anything from that encounter?' Tess asked.

‘Two photographs and a positive sighting.'

‘From a career criminal who may or may not be yanking our chain.' Tess sighed and leaned her head back against the seat, closed her eyes. ‘We know there's a leak,' she said. ‘That's a photo from the crime scene. Question is who and why.'

‘And that's a problem for Internal Affairs. Why is this Nathan Crow looking for that woman, do you reckon?'

‘I'm betting Bernie Franks knows,' Tess said wearily.

‘And he's not saying. This Nathan obviously thinks it's all connected with the Marsh kidnap. Maybe she's involved? Maybe she killed our man Palmer. Maybe we should both go back and talk to your mate Alec Friedman.'

‘Maybe we should,' Tess agreed. Maybe that's all we've got – a whole load of maybes.

Bernie Franks waited for a few minutes and then called Rico Steadmann.

‘I've passed the pictures on to the police, like we agreed,' he said. ‘They seemed more bothered that someone had got hold of crime-scene evidence. I think Mae's a new thing for them, but you should watch yourself, Rico. She's a loose cannon these days. Unpredictable.'

‘She's never been predictable,' Rico told him.

‘Anything else?'

‘No, I don't think so. I can take it from here. Oh, yes, one more thing. You've got cameras at that place of yours?'

‘Security cameras. Yes.'

‘The man with Nathan Crow. I'd like a look at him. Could be someone I know.'

‘S
o, where do we stand?' DCI Branch rubbed his hands together in anticipation. A couple of people laughed; others settled more expectantly into their seats. Jaz, a little late for the briefing, slipped through the door and stood just inside.

‘Still no next of kin for our Mr Palmer,' Tess said. ‘We talked to his work colleagues, here and from his old workplace, but all they can tell us is that he kept himself to himself and didn't socialize. Nothing in the Church Lane house to suggest he had family. Not even photographs – and that's the other thing. Everyone else in the estate agency, here and back where he worked before, had work-related pics on their phone. Nothing untoward, just random stuff when they'd been out together. Apparently Mr Palmer never went out with anyone. The only time he socialized with the group was last year at the Christmas party and he didn't get much choice in that one: his old boss organized for a bit of a do after they'd shut up shop for the afternoon. And from that we've got this.'

Branch took the picture and looked puzzled. It was a group shot – ten people in various states of celebration. Silly hats and full glasses much in evidence.

‘Middle of the back row,' Tess said. ‘You can just about make him out. He's trying not to be there.'

‘Can we enhance it?'

‘Technical services are doing what they can. But it does make you wonder about him. Anthony Palmer doesn't seem to have left much of an impression. We didn't even find a driver's license at the house.'

‘But he drove a car.'

‘And according to Swansea, never actually applied for a photo license.'

‘Passport?'

Tess shook her head. ‘Of course, whoever killed him could have cleared the place of anything personal, but we found no trace of a search, never mind anything being taken.'

‘If the search was done right, you'd never know it had happened,' Vin pointed out.

Branch nodded. ‘Well, keep pushing. Someone must know something about the man. What else do we have?'

Jaz waved nervously from the back of the room. Branch beckoned her forward.

‘The second photograph you got from Bernie Franks,' she said. ‘I got a hit on the woman.'

She pinned an enlargement to the board, then looked meaningfully at Branch. ‘It's not from police resources,' she said. ‘I did … um … a kind of lateral search.'

Branch frowned and then nodded as he got her meaning. ‘Go on,' he said.

‘Well, she has half a dozen aliases. I've printed a list and some background. I'm just getting copies made. Her birth name was probably Maria Dubrovna, but we can't be sure even of that. She grew up in the old Yugoslavia, when it was still a communist state, moved to East Germany when she was in her late teens, then she disappeared altogether for a while. She surfaced in the early eighties, when she had an affair with a French diplomat – this was in Moscow. She's suspected of acting as a courier for both UK intelligence and for East Germany. She speaks a dozen languages, and she was a definite associate of this Gustav Clay's. I'll get more information soon and put it in the files.'

Branch called Jaz over at the end of the briefing. ‘You faxed the photo over to our friend Charles Duncan?'

She nodded. ‘The result came back fast.'

‘A bit too fast.'

‘I thought so too. He sent a note saying there was more, but he had to clear it first. Sir, what do you think is going on?'

Branch shook his head. ‘I think we've got to focus,' he said. ‘Kat Marsh and her little girl are all we should be concerned about now. The rest can fall into line.'

‘And what about Anthony Palmer – whoever he was?'

‘Jaz, I think that's the problem. The “whoever he was”. I have a feeling we're not the only ones looking into that. And we've got to be cold about this. We know he's dead. So far we don't even have relatives needing closure. We have to hope the woman and child are still alive, so they get our attention.'

Jaz nodded. ‘Anyone spoken to Ian Marsh today?' she asked.

‘I don't know. Tess hasn't been here. I made a routine call this morning, but after that … Why?'

‘I just think it's strange,' Jaz said. ‘If someone I loved had been taken, I'd be making a right nuisance of myself, hassling anyone that could tell me anything.'

A
few miles away, Ian Marsh sat alone in the house his wife had grown up in. He shivered, despite the fire burning in the grate and the thick sweater he had on. He felt such a chill inside of him that it seemed never to be truly warm. Ian Marsh, frozen to the core, frozen to the tips of his fingers. Frozen into inaction.

‘My fault,' he whispered to his absent wife and missing child. ‘All my fault.'

Tess wasn't sure why she had driven home via Ian Marsh's road, but it was something she had done many times in the past week. Sometimes she had driven straight down the road. Sometimes she had slowed and looked at the house, mostly hidden behind the high hedge. Sometimes she had stopped her car a little way down the road and just sat there, watching, waiting, though for what she couldn't have said. The same impulse had taken her to and past the house in Church Lane. Tess could make no sense of any of this. How did it all tie together? The respectable professor. The supposedly respectable estate agent, Anthony Palmer – though a man who seemed to have no friends, no family, no past. Abductors who took a woman and child and then … then what?

She turned the car around and parked on the opposite side of the road a few doors from Ian Marsh's house. The rain had cleared but the sky was still leaden and the fireworks from local gardens merely served to highlight the dense cloud. Tess hated fireworks, always had, even as a kid. Her family had all gathered together for a regular bonfire – siblings and cousins and even her gran. Tess had liked the bonfire and the food and the family gathering, but the fireworks had always left her cold, unable to understand how people could get excited over a few brightly coloured explosions.