‘For a takeaway, Jack?’ Potting quizzed. ‘That’s kind of his style, isn’t it? He likes to take away.’ He chortled at his own thin joke.
Alexander, looking down at his notes, continued without reacting. ‘The last journey the Astra made before Archie Goff was found dead was into central Brighton. The CCTV team in the Control Room have done a brilliant job of mapping his journey, down the London Road to one of the car parks behind Churchill Square at around 10.30 on Saturday morning. He was also picked up by two cameras on foot heading down into the Lanes, and returning to the car park just after 11.15, seemingly holding a carrier bag, but they can’t identify any shop or brand label on the bag. That’s the last sighting of him alive.’
‘And the Astra, Jack?’ Grace asked.
‘It’s still in the car park, sir. An attendant located it for us.’
Grace made a note. ‘So that’s possibly where he was seized,’ he said.
Alexander nodded. ‘Seems likely, sir.’
‘Kidnapped and bundled into a vehicle?’ Grace suggested. ‘By offenders who either followed him in or were lying in wait for him. Most likely is they followed him in – unless it was a prearranged rendezvous.’
‘I’ve requested Associated Car Parks let us have copies of all CCTV cameras in that car park from 9 a.m. that morning until midday, to see if we can spot any vehicles that arrived before or with him and left soon after,’ Alexander said. ‘But there’s a delay thanks to their GDPR policy.’
‘Really?’ Grace sighed.
‘Afraid so, sir,’ Alexander replied. General Data Protection Regulations had recently become, in Roy Grace’s view, yet another obstacle put in the way of police crime-fighting efforts.
‘So they’re not allowed to give us information that could help us arrest a murderer,’ Norman Potting said. ‘Because that might invade his privacy?’
‘Right, let’s focus, everyone,’ Grace said, restoring order. ‘Jack, how long before the ACP deign to hand over the footage? Tell them this is a major crime investigation and should be GDPR exempt.’
‘It’s with their lawyers now, sir, who know the urgency. I’m hoping for a call at any moment.’
‘OK, let’s wait to see what we get from the cameras.’ He looked at Potting and then Wilde. ‘You went to see Daniel Hegarty, how did that go?’
Potting glanced at Wilde who indicated for him to respond. ‘He’s quite the geezer, chief.’
‘And joker,’ Wilde added.
Potting concurred. ‘He claims not to have any knowledge of Archie Goff, although personally I find that hard to believe, since they both come from crime families on the Moulsecoomb estate where they grew up at around the same time. Be that as it may, he came up with a name that could be very significant for us – Robert Kilgore.’
‘The name that Interpol told you is associated with Stuart Piper in international art dealings?’ Grace questioned.
‘The very same,’ Potting said. ‘It was very clear to both DC Wilde and myself that Hegarty is not a member of the Robert Kilgore fan club.’
‘What made you think that?’ Grace quizzed.
‘Just the way he spoke about him, sir,’ Wilde said.
Potting looked in his notebook on the table surface in front of him. ‘You might like to listen to this, sir, and everyone.’ He read from his notes.
‘I’ve not dealt with Piper directly, but there is a gentleman you might want to talk to. He’s an American, based here, name of Robert Kilgore. Nasty piece of work; you might find it helpful to have a word with him. These were Hegarty’s words. Then Velvet asked Hegarty where might we find him.’
Potting continued to read from his notes, ‘I believe he’s employed by Mr Piper. But I’d be grateful if you didn’t mention I told you that.’
‘Very interesting,’ Grace said. He tried, but failed, to hold a grin back. ‘We’ll call it useful information for now, Norman, but not admissible evidence.’
‘Fair play, gov. I should have got him to sign the notes.’
Grace looked around his team. ‘Anyone else have any information? If not, we’ll reconvene at 8.30 a.m. tomorrow. I’ve a meeting with the ACC at 10 a.m. to update her, followed by a press conference on Archie Goff’s murder, so please do your best, Jack, to get the car park CCTV released well before then. I’m also hoping for a report from our financial investigator by tomorrow morning; I’ve excused her from this briefing to work on it. And we’ll get more from Dr Duncton. Have a good evening, everyone.’
78
Monday, 4 November
It was 7 p.m. when Daniel Hegarty, meticulously applying fake saleroom markings to the rear of the Lowry painting, was distracted by Rocky and Rambo going crazy with excitement and running upstairs. Moments later he heard his wife’s voice.
‘Good boys, good boys! Has your daddy fed you or has he forgotten again?’
With a twinge of guilt, Hegarty realized he’d been so absorbed in his work he’d clean forgotten the dogs liked to eat at 6 p.m.
‘He’s a right bastard, isn’t he?’
‘I heard that!’ Hegarty retorted as she came down into the living room.
‘Have you fed them?’ she asked, walking over and kissing him. She looked drawn and pale, which was not surprising. She had gone to work to help her deal with what had happened and try to get things back to some sort of normal.
‘I was just about to!’ he fibbed.
‘Of course you were,’ she retorted, with only the faintest hint of sarcasm.
‘How did it go?’ he asked.
She shook her head as she pulled off her gloves and bobble hat then shrugged out of her coat. ‘It was a good thing that I went in. Two hours on the phone, but I think I saved someone’s life. He was seventy-three and had lived with his mother all his life. She did everything for him, cooking, making his bed, and probably wiped his bottom, too. She died two months ago, and he decided he didn’t want to go on living without her. But before he topped himself, he wanted my advice on who he should leave her estate to, which was signed over to him. A jerk of a distant cousin, their only living relative, or charity. I think I convinced him to go and enjoy himself, maybe take a world cruise, and think about leaving the money to charity when he died.’
‘Good thinking.’
‘So did you call the police?’ she asked.
He hesitated before replying. ‘No.’
Natalie rounded on him. ‘What? A bunch of thugs invade our home, threaten us both, we’re only saved by the presence of the window cleaners, and you haven’t called the police?’
‘Let me finish,’ he said. ‘I was about to, when two police officers turned up.’
‘And you told them what happened? What did they say – what did they do? Are they going to arrest those bastards?’
‘I need to explain something to you, darling,’ Hegarty said.
‘I’m listening,’ she replied. ‘It had better be good.’
‘It’s good. You’re going to like it.’
When he had finished telling her, Natalie shook her head. She didn’t like it. She did not like it one bit.
79
Monday, 4 November