‘I’m at the cell block doing a vital custody review, I can’t do anything at the moment — I’m dealing with a matter of national security.’ Then, turning more antsy, he said, ‘Surely you know normal process for a misper is not to do anything until a twenty-four-hour review, John, unless there are other factors?’
‘I do, sir,’ he replied, trying to be as respectful as possible to someone he considered a total moron. ‘But neither PC Little nor I think this is a matter for normal process. We need to step it up now proportionate to the risk.’
Anakin’s voice increased in pitch again — the human race was clearly in severe and imminent peril. ‘If that’s your assessment and you need to action now, call the duty DI — it’s Bryce Robinson today. I’ve got to go.’
The radio went dead.
The two PCs looked at each other, shaking their heads. ‘Know about the Peter Principle?’ Alldridge asked her with a grin.
She frowned. ‘The what?’
‘Some guy back in the 1960s or 70s came up with a theory that sooner or later in any hierarchy people get promoted to the level of their incompetence.’
Holly laughed. ‘Oh my God, so true about him!’
‘Just a shame that Anakin doesn’t rhyme with wanker.’
‘That doesn’t stop him from being one, though, does it?’
‘Nope.’
16
It was just gone midday when John Alldridge decided to contact the duty Detective Inspector at Brighton police station.
In contrast to Andy Anakin, who’d made them feel almost idiots for troubling him, DI Bryce Robinson was calm and sounded immediately concerned by what they told him. With his background as a former school teacher before joining the force, he was a good listener.
‘You’ve done the right thing,’ Robinson said. ‘Do you have any hypothesis about what we’re dealing with?’
‘We do, sir,’ Alldridge said. ‘We have a few.’
As he spoke, Alldridge could hear the tapping of keys, which indicated the DI was taking notes. ‘Our first is that, following their argument, Eden Paternoster met someone she knew in the store and left with them, scared to remain with her husband. Or simply, afraid to go back to the car, she went off on her own accord to seek refuge with a friend or member of her family. Her husband claims to have called everyone he can think of who she might have gone to, but if he has any history of violence, they might be shielding her and denying she’s with them.’
‘Very possible,’ Robinson said. ‘But I’ve just checked the name and address you’ve given me, and there’s no record of police having ever attended. No complaint or apparent history of domestic abuse. What’s your next hypothesis?’
‘That Mrs Paternoster has a lover. Her passport is missing. Could they have gone abroad together?’
‘You’ve got a recent photograph of her?’
‘Yes, sir, a couple — one taken yesterday. I have it digitally.’
‘Good, send it over to me as soon as we’re done and I’ll have it circulated.’
‘Our next hypothesis is that the lady might have tried to make her own way home and something happened — perhaps she was involved in an accident and is unable to make contact. But her husband says he’s called all hospitals in the area, so this seems unlikely. Our next is that she’s had some form of mental health episode and is now disorientated and lost.’
‘From the information you have,’ the DI asked, ‘how do you rate that on a scale of one to ten?’
Alldridge and Little looked at each other. He held out his hand, holding up his forefinger. His colleague nodded.
‘One,’ he said.
‘And your next?’
‘She’s been taken against her will.’
‘Is he wealthy?’
‘No, sir. He told us his business went bust and he’s now driving a friend’s cab.’
‘So, we can rule out kidnap for monetary gain?’
‘I think so, sir, quite safely.’
Robinson was silent for a short while. ‘Beyond these hypotheses, do you and PC Little have any views on what may be going on here?’
‘We both noticed a very cleaned-up kitchen skirting board and floor area, and the smell of bleach,’ Alldridge responded.
‘Sir,’ Holly Little added. ‘Neither of us were comfortable with Mrs Paternoster’s husband. It seemed to us he might be hiding something.’
‘Such as?’
‘Well, we’d like someone to look at the Tesco store’s CCTV footage to see if she did actually get out of their car, as he claims, or ever went into the store at all.’
Robinson was silent for some moments. Then he said, ‘She’s been missing since shortly after 3.15 p.m. yesterday. According to her husband, she’s not with any of their known contacts, and she failed to show up for work today, despite an important meeting?’
‘Correct,’ Alldridge confirmed.
‘And while the missing passport might indicate she has left the country, or is planning to leave, you feel it could be a double-blind?’
‘We do, sir,’ confirmed Little.
‘OK, I’m not at all happy about this situation, from all you’ve told me,’ the DI said. ‘You are right to be concerned. I’d like to run this by Major Crime and see what they think. You’ve done good work, both of you.’
17
Just gone midday, Roy Grace was reading through his completed draft report for the Chief Constable and was starting to think about lunch when he was interrupted by his job phone ringing. He answered it.
‘Sir, it’s Bryce Robinson. I have you down as the on-call SIO?’
Grace had been so absorbed in the report, and his thoughts about Guy Batchelor and Cassian Pewe, that he’d forgotten he’d assumed the role, from 7 p.m. last night until the same time next Sunday, as the duty Senior Investigating Officer for the Surrey and Sussex Major Crime Team.
‘Yes, that’s right, Bryce,’ he said to the DI, trying not to sound too thrown. ‘Tell me?’
Robinson talked him through the disappearance of Eden Paternoster and his concerns.
When the DI had finished, Grace asked him, ‘Who were the officers who attended at the Paternosters’ house?’
When he heard one of them was John Alldridge, he immediately took what he had heard even more seriously. ‘Alldridge was on my team for a while, Bryce — he’s sound, a very good copper.’
‘I agree with you, sir.’
‘It’s good to raise this,’ Grace said. He asked the DI to recap on a few points on which he wasn’t clear, then he sat thinking for some moments. ‘I wouldn’t ordinarily be worried after someone was missing for such a short time, but there’s something about this that feels wrong. You’ve done the right thing, calling me.’
Robinson was one of the diminishing number of senior officers in the force who remembered that Roy Grace’s own wife, Sandy, had disappeared, well over a decade ago now. And he was glad it was Grace who was the on-call SIO — some might have been dismissive, but from his own past experience, he clearly wasn’t.
‘Leave it with me, Bryce, I’ll have it looked into right away. You’ve circulated her photograph?’
‘I have, sir.’
‘Good work.’
Ending the call, Roy Grace thought for a short while. Ordinarily, he would have delegated a routine suspicious misper enquiry to one of his team, but something about this one intrigued him. And besides, he’d been deskbound for several weeks. One thing he’d always promised himself, each time he had been promoted further up the ranks, was that he would never end up as a desk jockey, as so many of his colleagues had, and that he would always try to remain hands-on whenever he could.