Still Waters (14 page)

‘I don’t believe you, but if you insist I will.’ She stood up. It was time for her visitors to leave.

Fran only took hints like that when she was ready, however. ‘Thank you for letting me come along, Iona. Even with the very best path report, I find I don’t get a feel for what the person was like. In fact,’ she continued, smiling at the young woman despite the latter’s now obvious urge to see them off, ‘you probably did the PM on someone else I’m taking an interest in – Alec Minton.’

Harris looked puzzled. ‘Straightforward suicide. He had all the injuries consistent with jumping from the fifth floor of a hotel onto the road below. Nothing interesting in the toxicology, no health problems.’

‘Do you think—?’

But two phones cut short Fran’s question, Harris’s and her own. To judge from her reaction, Harris’s was a personal and very exciting one, no doubt the reason she was eager for them to leave. Fran’s was a text from Mark saying that he wanted her to front a press conference in the afternoon. Oh, and Gates had been sighted in the building. Heard, rather, giving someone verbal hell over the phone.

On consideration, Fran thought she’d rather be found at HQ, preferably in the incident room, than be caught out – in Gates’ view – effectively truanting, especially if technically the Minton case was absolutely nothing to do with her. Gesturing
thanks and farewell, she took herself off, holding the door for Coveney to follow in her wake.

They were already in the car park when Dan stopped, slapping his head. ‘We never asked if she could get any DNA off her – the murderer’s, I mean. There have been so many forensic science developments recently I can’t keep up with them all.’

‘Neither can I,’ Fran confessed. ‘But I’m sure Harris’ll do all that’s expected of her, and more. Now, I’m heading back to HQ. What about you?’

‘I’ve got to stop off here in Ashford for half an hour. There’s a court case coming up and I want to make sure everything’s going along smoothly. But I’ll be with you in the incident room as soon as I can.’

‘With that list of reservoir hatch key-holders, don’t forget.’

‘And how about the key-holders to the surrounding area, guv?’

Trumped, eh? ‘Well done, Dan.’

Fran had often in the past found ladies’ loos excellent places for meetings, especially when she knew a man was, for whatever reason, hunting for her. So she was pleased to find DCI Joanne Pearce in front of the mirror, intent on reapplying all her make-up. Joining her, she dug for her own lipstick. One glance at the battered specimen, however, and she abandoned it as too pathetic compared with the full palette the DCI had at her disposal.

‘How are you getting on with Drury?’ Fran asked.

‘Well, you know you suggested we got other forces involved? We decided to do that, only cast the net a bit wider. And we’ve got the French police wanting to come over to talk
to him about a couple of murders in the red light district of Marseilles.’

‘So far afield?’

‘Drury did a stint as an HGV driver.’

‘So you could get interest from all over the place. Excellent. Do you want me to find some cash for an interpreter, just so there’s no misunderstandings between you and them?’

Joanne shook her head, and concentrated very hard on her left eyelid. ‘My first degree’s in French, as it happens, guv.’

‘Excellent.’ Fran resisted the urge to ask sarcastically about her second one. She herself had had to leave the police in order to take her first degree, and her doctorate had come the hard way, too, via part-time study with the OU. ‘You will keep me informed, won’t you? Actually, if you could let me have precise details of his MO I’d be very grateful, especially if they involve wire or water. And in return I’ll copy you in on our new corpse.’

‘The Lady in the Lake?’

‘The very same. Except with her choice of sexy undies and fuck-me shoes she may not have been a lady, and she was certainly not in a lake.’ She’d need to talk to Roper about those clothes. And to find where Janine had stored the others, for Fran couldn’t imagine that they were a one-off choice. Was there far more to his wife’s evening activities than poor Roper guessed at? Or had he guessed and that was precisely the motive for his killing her? Another face-to-face interview was called for – not least to break it to him what was in store for him. She rather thought she should do that herself, even though it meant yet more hands-on work to irritate the likes of Gates. And she would certainly be there when Roper ID’d the body. One spontaneous gesture was worth a thousand
words in an interview room. The trouble was, fitting it all in, especially as, for Mark’s sake – and indeed her own – she must not miss any of the meetings Gates valued so highly.

Inevitably, while she was preoccupied, she ran into Gates, almost literally.

‘Are you feeling better?’ she asked, hoping she sounded as if she cared. A much more important enquiry would be into Roo’s state of health this morning. And Kanga’s.

Clearly he regarded her question as at best an irrelevance, at worst an impertinence. ‘You weren’t in earlier this morning,’ he said.

‘No. I was out on a case. The Lady in the Lake that the media are so interested in.’ Her subtext was that if the media were sniffing round, it was incumbent on the CID to put up their most stalwart representatives. Fran had had more experience than most with fending off the wrong questions and seizing ones the police were more than happy to give answers to. She also seemed to have a TV-friendly face, though that always puzzled her, and presumed Mark would also want her to do a piece to camera for the regional news programmes going out at six-thirty.

‘Really?’ His face could not have conveyed less interest. ‘Why you had to drop everything and scurry across country simply to watch divers in action defeats me. And then observe the autopsy this morning!’ He flapped his hands in exasperation.

‘You could say it was part of the project investigating the needs of divisional CIDs,’ she suggested, tongue in cheek. ‘I picked up some useful ideas.’ He appeared never to have heard of the day-to-day needs of divisional CIDs, despite having delegated Fran to investigate them. ‘But in fact, I was
simply doing what any DCS should do. I was maintaining an active presence.’

‘And of course you asked Henson?’ The question was waspish.

‘Of course. In the event I found he was off sick.’ Should she tell him that Henson had left a message asking her to take responsibility for anything urgent or would that be to grass him up? Let Gates make his own deductions. ‘I acted on my own initiative and informed the ACC (Crime) accordingly.’

‘As if you couldn’t twist Turner round your little finger. You know it’s not considered good for staff morale to have two senior officers in a relationship working in the same area.’

Had no one told him that the chief had played a major part in bringing them together?

‘I quite understand that, sir. But you will understand it’s a view I don’t share. Now, if you’ll excuse me, sir, I have to go to the incident room to prepare for this afternoon’s press conference.’

‘You?’

The strength of his revulsion rocked her. It was all she could do to ask mildly, ‘Who else would you suggest, sir? I’m sure the ACC is open to ideas.’

As he turned on his heel she regretted that particular shot. She had a feeling it might rebound.

The next person she came across was Cosmo Dix. He faced her, arms akimbo and head on one side. ‘What shall we do with you, eh, Fran? Dishing out compassionate leave to constables as if it were in your gift.’

‘You mean it isn’t?’ She rounded her eyes. ‘And I always thought I could give out promotions and pay rises whenever I felt like it.’

‘Well, you were right, of course. Morally. But it would have been nice if you’d warned me before I get some old buffer from Maidstone nick exploding down the phone at me. Seems the little pregnant lady hadn’t finished her filing, or something.’

‘Sorry, Cosmo. Of course I should have told you. Asked you, actually.’

He took a step backward, then peered at her. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

‘Any reason why I shouldn’t be?’

‘Not your style, apologising, Fran. I wondered if you were going down with something.’

‘Nope. Maybe just mellowing little.’

Cosmo looked at her oddly. ‘That’s not like you either.’ But his pager went before he could say any more and he had to toddle off.

However much pressure they were under, either in the incident room or elsewhere, Fran had always insisted that her colleagues take adequate meal breaks, getting away from computers and gruesome photos alike, in relays if necessary. Today was no different. So there were still a couple of latecomers dawdling back when they convened for a briefing before Fran moved on to her next task. She was glad to see they put on a sprint as soon as they saw she was in place.

‘So what do I have to tell the press?’ she began. ‘What are they likely to bite and swallow? What’s best kept away from them?’

‘We’re dealing with a killer who knew the district very well,’ Fran told the TV camera, ‘and concealed his victim with no regard to the health and safety of people living in the neighbourhood. But even in a remote part of the country like this, someone must have seen him dispose of the body. We’re appealing particularly to anyone who had an allotment in this area, near Lenham, about three years ago to come forward. Every bit of information, no matter how trivial it may seem, could help solve this most unusual case. Thank you.’ She smiled earnestly and stopped. There was no need to say that the police had already started to comb through council records and anyone who had rented an allotment at the salient time would be receiving a routine visit. It was better psychologically for Joe Public to feel important. ‘I hope the wind didn’t blow all that away.’

Dilly Pound, who always insisted she owed Fran a favour after a stalking case, gave a thumbs-up sign. ‘Perfect. I don’t know how you manage to get it right first time.’

‘Years of practice,’ Fran said. ‘Maybe too many.’

‘Have you got time for a drink, Fran? Daniel was only saying the other night how nice it would be to meet up again.’

Fran’s mobile gave her the excuse she needed. ‘After this case, Dilly, if you don’t mind. You can see what it’s like. My best to Daniel.’ She turned away with more haste than courtesy to take the call.

It was Jim Champion. ‘How are you fixed tonight, Fran? Because I’ve got young Rob coming round, remember.’

Why hadn’t God put more hours in the day? ‘I can’t see myself making it before nine,’ she said. ‘And I’m afraid it may be later, and for a flying visit.’

‘Don’t tell me,’ Jim said with great satisfaction, ‘it’s the Lady in the Lake case, isn’t it?’

‘Right. I’m just shooting a TV statement now,’ she fibbed. ‘Watch out for me at half six.’

‘Watch out? I shall bloody wave!’

‘And I’ll try to wave back.’

Back at the office, she slapped her head. Despite Cosmo’s equivocal rebuke, she’d not given any thought to how Roo and Kanga were today. She reached for the phone. Then stopped, as if someone had bitten her hand. Was she permitted in these days of litigation for damages for work-related stress to ask how he was, poor kid? Not to mention Kanga. She fancied that for some reason it would be permissible to phone her, but not him. After all, her being pregnant was scarcely Kent Constabulary’s fault.

She started nibbling her pencil. She’d always thought that being brusque and bending a few rules were acceptable at her level. Clearly they hadn’t been in QED, who had left behind a reputation she’d rather not share. What if she was going round causing similar offence? Getting up the nose of a cold fish like Simon Gates was one thing, irritating a benevolent man like Cosmo quite another. Perhaps she should run it past him. And even as she used the cliché, she cursed herself. What if Simon were right? What if she were becoming a liability?

‘I’m sure your instinct is right, Fran,’ Cosmo said, with his most winsome smile. He turned briefly to switch on his kettle. ‘We’re implementing all the correct duty of care procedures. Believe me, no one can fault us. But since you rather took young – what did you call her? Kanga! – under your wing, I’m sure a phone call wouldn’t go amiss.’

Fran rubbed her face. ‘I didn’t want Roo’s Police Federation
rep scratching his head to see if he can detect any sinister plot behind the call.’

‘I take your point. No, phone away – but perhaps you shouldn’t ask about the incident itself.’ Cosmo poured them China tea from a delicate pot with a wicker handle. How much more civilised than the quick dunk of a tea bag. He placed a translucent cup and saucer in front of her. ‘There.’

‘Thanks,’ she said humbly, though half her mind wondered, as it always did, how much of his camp act was simply that – an act, a pose.

He looked at her sharply. ‘Are you quite sure you’re well? All this adherence to the rules stuff?’

‘Must be my age, Cosmo.’

Shaking his head, he remonstrated, ‘You know quite well that’s something else we’re not supposed to allude to. Tell you what, Fran, you call Kanga – let me just check the computer for her phone number…Yes, here we are – and I’ll phone that Mark of yours and tell him to take you out to a nice romantic dinner tonight. You should wear that chic blue top of yours.’

‘Dinner? We’ve got a murder on our hands, Cosmo.’

But the impact that that would have on her private life simply didn’t register with him, did it? Rather than stop to explain she blew him an exit kiss and headed back to her office. A short but friendly conversation established that Kanga’s blood pressure was about the same, at least no worse, and Roo was throwing himself into plans to paint the nursery in between sessions with all the people the police had arranged for him to see.

‘This leave,’ Kanga ventured. ‘We’re ever so grateful.’

‘Entitlement,’ Fran lied cheerfully. ‘Now, go and put your feet up.’

Had she achieved anything? Except for her own peace of mind? At least Kanga hadn’t reported that her young husband was waking every night screaming and in a cold sweat. No doubt they’d have a little giggle at the thought of this grandmotherly old bat taking the trouble to phone. Well, let them. At least her conscience felt a bit better.