Bennett frowned. All right, let’s say I accept that for now. But even taking it for granted, isn’t this a job for the CID? For a detective?’
‘In normal times, yes. But we simply haven’t the manpower any longer. I’ve already assigned three detectives to the case and I’m reluctant to add another, particularly one who’ll be trapped in what’s essentially a clerk’s job. A clerk with a very sharp eye, mind you.’
‘But why a WPC?’ Bennett remained unconvinced. ‘And why from Bow Street? This is a question that’s bound to be asked, Angus. Why not someone from the Yard? We’ve more than enough uniformed officers of our own, if that’s what you were looking for.’
‘Ah, well, that’s the crux of it, sir.’ Sinclair nodded wisely. ‘I wanted someone who was familiar with the case, and as it happens Poole was the first officer at the scene in Bloombury when Miss Nowak’s body was discovered. She was also instrumental in identifying Meeks. Cook recommended her to Styles, who’s been equally impressed by her. They say she’s alert, intelligent and persevering. All qualities I associate with good police work. And she’ll know what we’re looking for — that’s the key point. I felt she was the obvious choice.’
‘Well, if you insist …’ Weary of the argument, Bennett yielded finally. ‘But don’t imagine you’ve heard the last of it. The commissioner will require an explanation. Can I at least assure him this is not some attempt on your part to put one over on him?’
‘Perish the thought, sir.’ The chief inspector chuckled. ‘You can tell him that in all honesty the sex of the officer in question had no bearing on my judgement. I have only one standard in these situations.’
‘And what, pray, is that?’
‘Why, to pick the best man for the job.’
‘Very droll. I only hope the commissioner shares your sense of humour.’
Bennett sat back in his chair and watched as Sinclair gathered his papers into a folder, preparing to leave. He studied his colleague’s face.
‘This case bothers you, doesn’t it?’ he said.
The chief inspector glanced up, surprised. Yes, it does,’ he replied after a moment.
‘Why?’
Sinclair gave some thought to his answer.
‘Well, mainly because we’re in the dark, I suppose, and that’s rare,’ he replied, finally. ‘Crime and mystery don’t go together nearly as often as authors would have us believe. Usually we’ve got a good idea of the whys and wherefores of a murder and can even make an educated guess as to the likely perpetrator. But that doesn’t apply here at all, and it’s disturbing. Something else, too …’ His brow darkened.
‘Yes …?’
‘You’d think two murders were enough, but I’ve a nasty suspicion we’ve only scratched the surface so far. That there’s more to come. I feel like the skipper of the Titanic: I can see the tip of the iceberg all right. But it’s what’s hidden underneath the water that worries me.’
Bennett grunted. He didn’t see it, actually. As I recall, he was asleep.’
‘Well, there you are.’ Chuckling, the chief inspector picked up his file. ‘Still, I don’t want to sound too pessimistic.’ He paused at the door. ‘We may well be able to clear this up quicker than I thought. It all depends on what Alfie Meeks has to tell us, and it won’t take long to find him. A matter of hours, I would guess.’
His words proved to be prophetic. Returning to his own office, he found Billy Styles waiting for him with fresh news.
‘We’re on to him, sir. Meeks. Cook’s just had a call from Wapping police station. He was spotted in a pub on the river called the White Boar last night.’
‘Last night?’ Sinclair fumed. ‘That’s no good to us. Where’s he now? That’s what we want to know.’
‘I couldn’t say for sure, sir.’ Billy grinned. But I can tell you where he’ll be this evening. He’s reserved a room at the back of the pub for a private party.’
‘A what?’
‘A meet of some kind. Must be. That’s what the landlord keeps it for. He’s an old lag called Jewell. We put him away twice for burglary before he went straight. If he ever did. The pub’s well known to the Wapping police. They keep an eye on it through a cellar-man Jewell employs. Another ex-convict called Barrow. He’s one of their snouts. Knows Meeks by sight. He said Alfie fixed to rent the room and paid Jewell a tenner in advance.’
‘A tenner, you say? I wonder where that came from.’ Sinclair sat down at his desk.
‘Not out of Alfie Meeks’s pocket, that’s for certain. We may have struck lucky, sir. Our bloke could be there this evening.’
‘And who else besides, I wonder.’ Sinclair fingered an earlobe. ‘This is a strange business, and it doesn’t seem to be getting any clearer.’
He was distracted by a faint creak that came from a small room adjoining his. Little more than a cubbyhole, it was separated from his office by a glassed partition.
‘What is it, Constable?’ he barked.
In response, the door opened and Lily Poole appeared, blushing.
‘You weren’t eavesdropping, I hope.’
‘Sir-?’ Her cheeks turned a brighter shade of red.
Sinclair regarded her with a flinty expression. Billy watched. He’d warned the young policewoman not to take any liberties in her new assignment.
‘This is a feather in your cap,’ he’d told her when she’d reported to him the day before, ready to be introduced to the chief inspector. ‘But don’t let it go to your head. Mr Sinclair will oversee your work, and I’m warning you now he’s a hard man to please. Old school, too. Know what that means?’ Poole had shaken her head. ‘It means you speak when you’re spoken to, not before. And whatever you do, don’t go calling him “guv”.’ Billy thought he’d better set her straight on that point. ‘He’s “sir” to you, and don’t you forget it.’
‘Well, what is it, Constable?’
Sinclair’s tone was sharp and Billy remembered from his own experience — from the time he had worked with Madden — how disconcerting he had found it. Many months had passed before he had realized, in retrospect, that the chief inspector had been testing him. Seeing whether he could take criticism and harsh treatment and still function. Not buckle under pressure.
‘Sir … sir, you told me when I started that if I had any ideas I should come to you.’
Lily Poole, in a crisp white blouse and blue skirt, stood to attention like a soldier on parade.
‘That’s perfectly true.’ Sinclair’s gaze was expressionless.
‘Well, sir, I’ve got one …’
The chief inspector regarded her in silence. Watching, Billy saw the young woman’s neck muscles twitch in a nervous spasm. But her blue eyes held steady.
‘Very well. Let’s hear it.’
Poole swallowed. This idea of Meeks working for someone else, maybe even the bloke who topped those girls …’
‘Yes …?’ Sinclair kept his eyes on her.
‘Couldn’t he be someone he came across in prison? In the Scrubs? A real villain. Someone he might have met up with afterwards …?’
She broke off, unsure what effect her words were having.
The chief inspector made no reply. Instead, he shifted his gaze to Billy, who was grinning now.
‘Well, couldn’t we find out, sir?’ Her strong jaw had set in a dogged look. ‘The warders would know. Who did he mix with inside? Did he have any special friends?’
‘That’s a good idea, Constable,’ Sinclair responded at last. ‘But as it happens, Inspector Styles has already thought of it. I’m expecting to hear from the prison governor today. He’ll have a list of names you can check against the records.’
Her face fell.
‘But don’t be discouraged. You were right to bring it up.’
He nodded, dismissing her, but she stayed where she was, standing in front of his desk.
‘Sir … about this meet at the pub this evening …’
‘So you were eavesdropping?’ His gaze narrowed.
‘No, sir, I just happened to hear …’