Broderick nodded. ‘Please continue.’
‘Well, they had adopted the lad after the unpleasant deaths of the boy’s parents in the 1960’s and had lost track of him over the years. Families are strange aren’t they? Anyway, Mrs Brooks was rather keen to track him down. Understandable, I suppose’
“And?’ Broderick continued.
‘Well that’s who I think her visitor may have been. Just a guess, but you did ask.’
‘News to me!’ Mr Constantine exclaimed.
‘I did tell you, dear. Only you never really listen.’
‘Charming. Isn’t that just charming?’
Mr Constantine folded his arms by way of cutting himself off from further conversation.
‘Poor man,’ his wife continued. ‘What a terrible shock this will be for him.’
15
Their car doors slammed almost in unison as Broderick and Massetti arrived for work in the rear parking yard of the RGP’s headquarters.
‘You look terrible, Broderick,’ his superior observed.
‘Cheers. That’s what being up all night can do for a boy’s complexion.’
‘Your daughter? The youngest one?’
Broderick knew that by ‘youngest one’ Massetti had really meant the ‘Down’s Syndrome one’. It never ceased to amaze Broderick the lengths to which people would go to avoid actually naming the condition. Ignorance and embarrassment still lingered on in these supposedly more enlightened times.
‘Daisy. My youngest daughter is called Daisy, ma’am, and she’s probably been out clubbing all night with a new boyfriend. Not that I’d know, of course, because some of us had to pull an all -nighter. Old lady found dead in suspicious circumstances up on Trafalgar Road.’
‘I would have thought you had enough on your plate, Chief Inspector.’
‘One might have thought that ma’am, but truth is I didn’t quite get out of the building quick enough last night.’
‘A dedicated officer to the end Broderick. That’s why you are so indispensable.’
The pair continued to the Chief Super’s office in silence. Once there, Massetti continued to question Broderick about the developments in the case that were foremost on her mind..
‘When will full forensics be back on Bryant and Ferra?’
‘When they’re back, ma’am.’ Massetti’s glare told Broderick all he needed to know. ‘The lab’s rushing them through as it is.’
‘Well keep the pressure up, Broderick,’ Massetti insisted. ‘The Commissioner is, to say the very least, concerned that we tie this one up a soon as possible. Which means yesterday. Understood?’
Broderick nodded.
‘Very clear, ma’am.’
Massetti sailed on.
‘The press are having a field day. The story’s even playing in the UK and Spain.’
‘I’m sure it is,’ Broderick replied. Massetti paused for a moment.
‘By the by. How’s Sullivan shaping up?’
‘No complaints,’ Broderick answered.
‘The slightest indication that she’s not up to the mark, I want to know. She’s only supposed to be here on secondment. You’re asking a lot of her. Remember, she’s here because she cocked up on a case over there. I don’t want her doing the same on my piece of rock. Understand?’
‘Crystal, ma’am.’
‘Good.’
Broderick decided to take his chance.
‘Ma’am, I need to request more resources. With both...’
But his plea was cut off in mid-sentence by the ringing of Massetti’s phone.The mobile was at her ear in a moment.
‘Massetti. Yep, okay. Put him through. Ah, good morning, sir. I trust you’re well.’ Massetti waved Broderick away. As he left Massetti’s office, he found Sullivan and Calbot waiting for him.
‘Heard you had a busy night, sir,’ Sullivan remarked somewhat archly.
‘Yes. Thanks for your concern Sullivan,’ Broderick repied. ‘It means so much to me that you care. Calbot brought you up to date I hope?’
‘He did indeed, sir. United 2, Porto 1.’
‘How very amusing, Sullivan, I meant of course Mrs Brooks’ death. Firstly, check out the history of the Gregson murder up at The Captain’s House. I need everything you can find on it and the whereabouts of the Gregson boy, if he’s still alive.’
‘On it, sir,’ Calbot confirmed.
‘Second priority – a mug of tea and a bacon sarnie if you can find the time between jokes, Sullivan?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Sullivan answered none too happily. ‘Understood.’
Sullivan, with bacon sarnies in hand, and Calbot, with the forensics results, entered the office through doors on opposing sides of the room. It was like a poorly rehearsed parody of a spaghetti western.
‘Forensics are back from Ferra’s, guv,’ Calbot said, firing the first shot.
‘And?’ muttered Broderick.
‘The rope’s the same make as the one that hung Bryant, sir.’
Broderick’s face lit up. ‘Good! Excellent!’
‘But... not a make that’s been available for about ten years. So obviously not purchased recently, therefore hard to trace.’
‘Bugger. Okay, can we proceed with a little more good news, please?’ Broderick enquired.
‘Well there are several sources for the blue woollen fibres that could match with the piece we found on the door. They’re checking them as we speak. Apart from that, nothing much, I’m afraid. No prints. A shoe mark on the fire escape, but nothing distinctive. Oh, and a small trace of tobacco and curry powder.’
‘How eclectic,’ Broderick observed.
‘They’re analysing both.’
‘And the results on the blood?’
‘Later today.’
‘I see,’ mused Broderick. ‘So it’s ‘suddenly nothing happened’, as per usual.’
‘What do we do with Tavares?’ Sullivan asked, trying to move things on.
‘Let him go,’ Broderick replied reluctantly. ‘What other choice do we have?’
David Green’s car pulled up to the front of the Tavares’ house. In the passenger seat, Martin Tavares sighed heavily as he spotted the gaggle of reporters and photographers waiting for them on his doorstep. Heaving himself out of the car, he headed for the house doing his level best to ignore the throng.
‘Mr Tavares? How do you feel about what’s happened to you?’
‘Are you an innocent man, Mr Tavares?’
Unable to take the intensity of the intrusion, Tavares snapped. ‘Yes, I am innocent. I did not kill those men. The police know I did not kill those men, and yet they have decided to put me through more hell. My wife is dead. I ask you...how much more pain do you wish to see me and my family go through?’
With that, he went inside, leaving David on the doorstep. He too shaking with anger.
‘Happy now, are you? Got your story? What about the police, eh? They’re the guilty ones. Shame on them. Shame on all of you,’ David shouted before following Martin into the house. ‘Jesus Christ, the bastards.’
Martin was sat at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes were red and his face drawn. David moved to his side.
‘Can I get you anything? A glass of water?’
‘No,’ Martin replied. ‘I just need sleep.’
He stood and started to climb the stairs.
‘Please. Make sure nobody disturbs me.’ he said without looking round.
‘No bother. I’ll be in the study if you need me.’
A minute later, with David out of sight, Tavares quietly crept back down the stairs. Moving through to the kitchen and the back door, he left the house and crossed to the garage. Entering the garage he carefully locked its door securely behind him. Inside was the covered shape of a 1960’s Alfa Romeo - once his pride and joy. Removing the cover, Tavares opened its boot and rummaged for a few seconds before finding what he had come for. He gazed long and hard at the long length of rubber tubing that he now held in his hand. His trance suddenly broken, Tavares set about the solemn task he had set himself.