‘Did he get a description of the car?’
Stanstead smiled. ‘Better than that, boss. He managed to write down part of its registration – he often wrote down and reported cars driving too fast along there.’
‘Nice work, Luke,’ Grace said. ‘Has the owner been identified?’
‘Not yet, but we are narrowing the possible matching vehicles down.’
Grace then sat thoughtfully for some moments. ‘Arrange to find and interview this Mr Lee as a matter of priority. We need the partial fingerprint found on the bill in Porteous’s wallet to be run again against the database, to see if anything new comes up. Let’s revisit the tapings from his clothes. As I said, we need to interview again this collector in Sussex that Porteous was going to show the painting to. And we want to find out and eliminate any dealer that he might have showed this picture to, prior to his murder.’
He was silent again for a short while, as he made more notes, before looking up with a specific list of actions for each member of his team. When he had finished, he said, ‘I suggest we meet again here, at 9 a.m. on Wednesday, 25 September, to review everyone’s findings. Any questions?’
There were none.
9
Thursday, 19 September
Roy Grace arrived home shortly after 10 p.m. and sniffed a very faint aroma of something appetizing, but also something burnt. As he entered the cottage, he was greeted by Humphrey, their dog, and a quiet hello from Cleo, although she didn’t look up. She was on the sofa in the living area, surrounded by her Open University papers, which their recently fostered cat, Reggie, was clawing and playing with. Reggie’s owner was in prison, and sadly the cat wouldn’t be able to stay with them long term, but they were enjoying his antics so far. Cleo’s dissertation was due to be handed in next month, hopefully well before the baby arrived. All going well, she would achieve the MA in Philosophy that she had worked so hard for and could graduate next summer.
‘I’m sorry, darling,’ he said, raising his arms as he went over, bent down and kissed her on the forehead.
‘You said you’d be home at seven’.
He nodded ruefully, loosening his tie and pulling off his suit jacket. ‘I’m really sorry. Glenn’s in a terrible state, I had to try to help him.’
‘I thought you had a phone, Roy? You could have called, texted, messaged me. My turn to cook supper tonight and I asked you what you wanted and you said fish. I got a lovely piece of turbot from the market, now it’s overcooked and so are the vegetables. I’m afraid I ate over an hour ago. I’ve left yours in the warming oven of the Aga.’
‘Thanks.’ He perched on an arm of the sofa. ‘Honestly, I’m so sorry, but he’s genuinely worried.’
‘Glenn?’ She still looked cross.
‘He wanted to have a quick drink after work to talk about it. I had to, I’ve not seen him like this since he broke up with Ari.’
‘I have no problem with you having a drink,’ she said. ‘But next time just call and tell me?’
He raised his arms again helplessly. ‘I know. I honestly thought it would be just a quick drink. But he was in bits, I couldn’t leave him. I... I just lost track of the time, and—’
‘And?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t have an excuse, but I understand why it’s annoyed you and I apologise. How’s everything here? What’s Noah been up to?’
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘We’ve been cooking, painting, and he’s helped me with the chickens. He’s been asking me about Bruno still, and I got him distracted by making that dinosaur puzzle four times. Still no terrible twos just yet.’ She frowned as if thinking. ‘Oh, yes. We need to watch Humphrey with the hens, he’s showing too much of an interest in them. Keeps licking his lips and obsessing over one of them, watching everything it does.’
‘You think he might go for them? Maybe he’s just interested.’
‘I think if it flaps too much he’ll grab it. It’s just instinct, but we’ll have to watch him,’ she said. ‘So, Glenn?’
After some moments he said, ‘As I said, I have a feeling the wedding might be off.’
‘Lucky I haven’t bought a hat,’ she said.
He gave her a half-hearted smile. ‘I’m just not sure how they are going to work it out.’
‘And? How did you leave it?’
‘I told him to send a huge bunch of flowers to her at the office, in the morning.’
Cleo shook her head. ‘Really?’
‘You don’t think that’s the right thing?’
Shaking her head again, she said, ‘You think any problem can be solved with a bunch of flowers?’
‘A peace offering – no?’
She stared back at him. ‘So what’s happened, exactly?’
He told her the full story. When he’d finished she said, ‘Do you remember what you told me when they first started dating?’
‘No, what?’
‘That it was going to end in tears. That at some time down the line, a cop in love with an ambitious newspaper reporter was always going to end in an ugly compromised situation. Take a bow, Detective Superintendent Grace, your powers of prophecy have proved correct.’
He smiled but she didn’t smile back.
‘So, what do I advise him?’ he asked.
‘To respect her, that’s what women want, not sodding flowers or an expensive trinket. Tell him that if he really loves her and wants a life with her, he can’t interfere with her career. He has to let her do what she needs to do for her work. And if that means delaying having children, he has to wait, and anyhow, she’s still young. I really like her: she’s smart, she’s ambitious and she’s a warm person – he told me those are some of the many things he loves about her. And I do genuinely think she’s a keeper. So he is the one who needs to take a look at himself.’
Grace nodded. ‘That’s kind of what I said.’
‘Glenn started his working life as a nightclub bouncer, if I’m remembering right?’
‘He did.’
‘Then after his son was born, he looked down at him and thought to himself, one day you are going to go to school, and when you do, someone’s going to ask you what your dad does for a living, and I want you to be able to say something you are proud of. That’s why he applied to join the police, right?’
‘Right,’ Grace said.
‘And Glenn’s ambitious too, isn’t he?’
‘Very.’
‘You’ve always told me he has what it takes to get to the top, that he’s bright, has real emotional intelligence, empathy, and people like him.’
‘All of that.’
‘If he has all those qualities, it shouldn’t matter what his wife does, should it?’ Cleo suggested.
‘No, it shouldn’t, but it does. God, you know how it is. The relationship between the police and the press has never been an easy one, and never less so than today. The Chief Constable is very wary of the Argus’s loyalties. If Siobhan is going to be seen as anti-police, which this piece would be, that’s not going to help anything.’
‘So what did you advise him? Other than sending flowers? The editor, Arron Hendy, his job is to sell newspapers, and he needs good stories. Think he’s going to be happy to spike that one because his top crime reporter received a bunch of flowers?’
‘I guess not.’
‘Hello, Roy!’ she said. ‘Welcome to the real world. It’s one in which, today, the little woman doesn’t sacrifice her career for her big breadwinner hubby’s advancement. In today’s world she-who-must-be-obeyed doesn’t sit at home all night waiting for her man to come home before cooking his dinner and popping out children on demand. The real world, as you are about to discover, is overcooked fish, burnt potatoes and soggy green beans in the bottom oven of the Aga. Enjoy. I’m going to bed.’