‘Amy seems very bright,’ Kathy said.
‘She’s like a sponge, soaks it all up.’
‘Isn’t she a bit young to be on a diet?’
He laughed.‘Is that what she told you?’
‘Yes, she’s very serious about it, telling me exactly how many carbs there were in everything on the menu.’
‘She was having you on, Kathy. That’s her mother, she’s obsessed by all that stuff. This afternoon Amy had, let’s see, one chocolate milkshake, two hot dogs, one sticky doughnut, two Cokes and a bowl of chips. All the stuff her mum tells her she can’t have.’
‘I see.’
‘What’s your bet about?’
‘She told me the order in which the bodies were buried, for fifty pence.’
‘Aha.’
Kathy saw the grin on Tom’s face.‘What’s the joke?’
‘Nothing. She’s smart all right.’
They both felt like an early night and Tom drove her home. They reached the forecourt of her building, the rain still pounding, and ran with the umbrella to the front door. Beneath its black canopy he kissed her cheek, then mouth.
‘You didn’t mind too much, me taking you out with Amy,
did you?’ ‘No, of course not. I was really pleased to meet her. It was fun.’ ‘Good. Oh, look, I forgot about that thing I’ve got for you.’
He patted his pocket.‘We really need some light.’ ‘Want to come up to the flat?’ ‘Maybe I should.’ As they went up in the lift Kathy realised that this was the first
time she’d brought a man up to her flat since Leon had lived there with her. She felt a little itch of disquiet, sharing her lift, her front door, her living room, with a man again.
‘Take your jacket off,’she said.‘It’s wet.Want a glass of wine?’ ‘Thanks. So are my trousers.’ ‘Feel free,’ she laughed, but he kept them on. In fact, he
seemed to sense her reserve about having him there, and sat quietly on the sofa.
She got a bottle of verdelho from the fridge and poured two glasses, giving him one. In return he handed her the envelope he’d taken from his jacket pocket. Inside she found a single sheet of paper with a short paragraph of print. She sipped her wine and read.
The Browning 9mm Hi-Power automatic pistol remains the weapon of choice among Yardie gang members. These guns are often difficult to trace as they are sold, exchanged and passed around between different users. On the other hand, tracking the use of the same weapon in various locations can be employed to reveal previously unknown connections between different groups (see ATF case study US/1/84). Sometimes individual guns acquire a reputation and a nickname, often playing on the Browning label,as in ‘Brown Maggie’,‘Big Brownie’and ‘Brown Bread’. The last, never traced, is believed to have been used in at least six separate shootings across South London in the 1980s.
She stared at it, surprised that he’d remembered. ‘Hell. Why didn’t we find this?’
‘It’s one of a series of Special Branch internal intelligence memos. I tracked it down this morning. I couldn’t find any other reference to the six shootings, but you’re bound to have that gun somewhere on your files, probably from the days before records were computerised.’
‘Yes, thank you, Tom. That’s terrific. Brock’ll be delighted.’ ‘As long as you are.’He hesitated,then said,‘If he needs more,
just let me know. I can maybe do some digging.’ ‘Okay. He’s interested in your having been to Jamaica.’ ‘Oh yes? Well, this should earn you a few Brownie points.’ She laughed.‘That’s right,and I got a few this morning when
I worked out the date of the shooting.’ ‘Yes, tell me about that.’ So she told him about her day, and then he told her about his,
escorting the sinister colonel’s wife around Harrods while her husband was negotiating at the peace conference. He put his arm around her.‘I blew it last night, didn’t I? Too
much rum punch and Red Stripe. Sorry about that.’ ‘I enjoyed it. Anyway, there’s plenty of time.’ ‘That was the first time I’d invited a woman to my flat in
years, you know. I got a bit carried away.’ She stroked a slick of rain-damp hair from his brow, feeling a growing warmth inside her, but also an unease that wasn’t just to
do with having a man in her private space. Perhaps it was the lack of preparation for meeting his little girl, or more likely the sighting of Teddy Vexx again that afternoon.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. I’m just tired.’
‘Sure.’He smiled and shrugged on his jacket,still wet.‘Thanks for the pizza. And thanks for being so nice to Amy.’
‘And thank you for the stuff on Brown Bread. I’ll speak to Brock first thing. He’ll want to see this as soon as possible.’
The next morning Kathy met Brock on his way into the office. She showed him Tom’s information on Brown Bread and he raised an eyebrow.
‘Could be something in it, I suppose.You could speak to the boy again. He might say more without me around. Tom Reeves seems to be taking quite an interest in the case.’ Brock gave her a little smile.
‘Yes, well . . . the Jamaican connection, you know.’
She returned to her computer and tried to find references to the six Brown Bread shootings, but without success. Neither of the records of the two shootings that ballistics had linked to the cartridge cases found on the railway land carried any references to ‘Brown Bread’. Finally she rang up her friend Nicole Palmer in Criminal Records at the National Identification Service, to ask for her help.
‘And how’s the boyfriend?’ Nicole asked.‘I hear he’s back.’
‘Nothing gets past Palmer of the NIS, does it?’
‘The real question is why you kept it a secret, Kathy. I had to rely on Lloyd bumping into him. He said that you were going out again.’
‘Bit early to say.’
‘Oh, come on, Kathy. Get in there. He’s perfect.’
‘Apart from the odd prolonged disappearance.’
‘That’s his work. And according to Lloyd he’s getting out of Special Branch as soon as he can.We need to talk about this. I’m worried about your attitude.’
Kathy laughed. Nicole was perfect for the NIS, she thought. She just loved information,the more human and intimate the better.
‘If you can get me anything on Brown Bread by lunchtime I’ll buy you a sandwich.’
‘Done.’
The headmistress at Camberwell Secondary seemed pleased to see Kathy again.‘I can’t pretend we don’t find all this pretty exciting. It’s a struggle to keep the kids’ attention in the classes on the upper floor, from where they can see your people working, and it’s the only topic in the staff room. Have you found out what brown bread means?’
‘It’s possible that it’s the name of a pistol,’ Kathy said, and watched the enthusiasm drain from the other woman’s face.
‘Oh no. Not guns again.’
‘Has that been a problem here?’
‘Not inside the school,so far,which is a miracle I suppose,given what goes on right outside the gates these days.The shooting of the two girls next door wasn’t the only one. Somebody shot the news-agent round the corner last month, just for a packet of cigarettes.
I’ve dreaded becoming one of those places with guards and metal detectors at the front gates.’ She shook her head in frustration.‘I’d never have thought it of Adam Nightingale, but none of them are immune,are they? Not when there are so many terrible role models out there.’
‘I’d like to talk to him again. It may not be what we think.’
The boy appeared, sullen and withdrawn, and was told to sit facing Kathy while the headmistress took her seat behind her desk. Kathy waited for a moment, saying nothing, staring at Adam long enough for him to shift with discomfort, then she reached into her shoulder bag and took out something wrapped in black plastic, about the size of a hand. She put it down on the edge of the desk between her and the boy, hard enough for him to hear the clunk of metal against wood.