He gave a sharp gasp, staring at it.‘You found it,’ he whispered. ‘It was there.’
‘It was like a quest,’ Kathy said later at the team meeting.‘The story had been circulating among the boys in the school for years, an urban myth, passed on from generation to generation, of a gun called Brown Bread belonging to a notorious gangsta murderer being thrown from a passing train onto the waste ground and never found. By the time it percolated down to Adam’s year it had almost faded away. Nobody really believed it except him. He was obsessed by it.The gun became a kind of talisman that would give him some respect around the place and stop him being bullied.When he saw McCulloch’s people searching the railway land he panicked and decided to get in there first.Afterwards he couldn’t admit what he’d been after without being seen as an even bigger nerd, and the bullying would’ve got worse. I let him think we found it.’
‘But it isn’t there?’ Brock asked Bren.
‘Not a chance, chief.We’ve now covered every inch of our site and along both railway banks to north and south for a distance of fifty yards with metal detectors and ground-penetrating radar. There won’t be any more surprises.’
Bren went on to report progress at the site. More fragments of bones and clothing had been found, but neither a third cartridge nor Charlie’s skull. Someone asked about the foxes and Bren pointed out on the plan where two dens had been found. That was normal, he said, as foxes liked to have an alternative hiding place for emergencies. This being the breeding season, they’d found three dead pups in one of the dens, together with some small gnawed human and animal bones. The foxes themselves hadn’t been seen.
He then came to the final part of his report and, although Bren rarely showed much excitement, it was obvious from his animation that he thought this was good. It was a line of reasoning that he had been developing with the forensic team, to understand the sequence and timing of the three murders. On a map of the railway land he pointed out their locations and the probable routes taken by the victims and their killers,and put forward an argument for the order of events that was almost exactly the same as Amy had suggested to Kathy in the cafe the previous evening.
Brock was impressed. ‘Makes sense,’ he growled, as if edging closer to some hidden truth. ‘So Bravo-Joseph Kidd-was the first of a series of three separate murders and burials that began, presumably, on the eleventh of April. How long did it last?’
‘Can’t say for sure, chief, but Dr Prior says the skeletal remains are indistinguishable in terms of aging. She doesn’t think they were too far apart.’
When they broke up Kathy spoke to Bren. ‘That was a neat bit of deduction.When did you work it out?’
‘Yesterday. It was Dr Prior’s idea mainly.’ ‘You didn’t happen to mention it to Tom Reeves yesterday,
did you?’
‘Yes, I did actually. He called in to the site. Said he was just passing. He seems very interested in this case. Aren’t they keeping him busy enough in Special Branch?’
‘He’s on some escort duty, pretty boring I think.’
‘Do you reckon he’s looking for a transfer over here?’
‘Over here?’ Kathy was startled. ‘I don’t think so. There wouldn’t be a vacancy anyway, would there?’
‘S’pose not.’
As she went back to her desk, Kathy turned this over in her mind. She was finding herself thinking about Tom more and more these days, but the idea of him moving into Brock’s team made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. Experience had taught her to keep her private life separate from her work, but there was also the matter of her rank and position in the team. As detective sergeant, Kathy had already passed the exams for inspector, but her promotion was on hold because it would mean moving to another unit, which she refused to do. If there was any possibility of an inspector position becoming available at Queen Anne’s Gate, she was determined it was going to be hers.
She met Nicole for a quick lunch as arranged, but she too had been unable to find any references to Brown Bread. It seemed it existed only as an old piece of intelligence buried in the internal files of Special Branch. After some probing interrogation and advice from her friend, Kathy paid for the lunch and returned to the office, where she rang Tom’s mobile.
‘Hi, can you talk?’ she asked.
‘They’re halfway through a hugely expensive lunch at the Connaught, no doubt at British taxpayers’ expense.’
‘Lucky you.’
‘Not me. I’m sitting outside drinking a cup of coffee. How are you?’
‘Okay. What were you doing on the site at Mafeking Road yesterday?’
‘Looking for you,of course.Had to make do with Bren Gurney.’
‘And he told you about his theory of how the murders were committed, which you then told Amy.’
‘Ah. It’s a fair cop. Are you mad at us?’
‘Not really. I should have worked it out.’
‘Amy was nervous about meeting you, but she told me later that she liked you.’
‘Well, it looks like I owe her fifty pence. Now I wonder if I can ask a favour?’
‘Sure, go ahead.’
She told him about her difficulty in tracing the Brown Bread shootings, and he said he’d make some calls. He got back to her half an hour later with one name, Johnny Mulroy, a thief and police informant who had been murdered by Brown Bread in 1985. Tom said it would involve a lot more research to track down the other five shootings, but for Kathy that one was enough. She knew of the Johnny Mulroy case, because it was one of the two shootings that ballistics had tied to the cartridges on the railway land.
‘That’s great, Tom. Thank you. I owe you.’
‘How about a drink after work tonight?’ He mentioned a bar and she agreed, then went to see Brock and told him what she had.
He was very interested in Brown Bread now.‘We need those other five cases, Kathy. If we can tie the Roaches to any one of them, then we can tie them to our three corpses.’
‘It’ll mean a trawl through Special Branch files.’
He nodded.‘I’ll speak to them.’
She was the first to arrive at the bar that evening. She sat watching the door, and felt a warm buzz of pleasure when he appeared. Nicole was right, she decided, he was exactly what she needed.
He kissed her cheek, his face cool from the night air.‘Hi,’ he said, then stood back a moment and stared at her.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing,’he said.‘I came through the door there and saw the most beautiful girl in London sitting at the bar, and she was waiting for me.’
She laughed, pleased by his flattery. ‘I’m a cop, Tom, highly trained to detect bullshit.’
‘But I mean it.’ He ordered a drink and sat beside her. ‘How was your day?’
‘Good. Brock was very impressed with what you gave me. He said he’d speak to your people about searching out the other cases.’
‘Yes, he did it. I thought I was in trouble when my boss called me in and asked me how come I’d been giving information to Brock. But he seemed happy enough when I explained. He’s keen on interdepartmental cooperation. I think it’s in our mission statement somewhere. Anyway, it seems the colonel and his wife are heading back to Africa and no longer need me, thank goodness, so the boss offered my services to Brock to follow up on the Brown Bread cases. Good, eh? I’ll get to work with you.’
‘Oh . . . yes. That’s great, Tom.’
‘Yeah. I’m to report to Queen Anne’s Gate tomorrow at eight-thirty to brief Brock on what’s involved.’ He took a deep pull at his lager. ‘I must admit, it feels good to get involved with some real detective work again.’
The next morning, Kathy met Tom in the front lobby of the Queen Anne’s Gate offices and took him up through the labyrinth of corridors and staircases that had been knocked together from the original houses that made up the terrace.
When they reached the top floor she introduced him to Brock’s secretary Dot, and said, ‘Look in on me when you’re finished. I’ll be in the case room on the ground floor, down the corridor from the entrance.’