‘Blimey, that smells.’ He thought about this, then said, ‘But if the lab accepted it… I mean it’s their business, isn’t it? And Oakley’s left the force now, hasn’t he? Was the woman upset when you spoke to her? Did she want to complain?’
‘No, not at all. She just wants a quiet life.’
‘Well then, I don’t see the problem, Kathy. These things happen.’
‘I think there’s more to it than that. This morning I went to the offices of the Verge Practice, to talk to Sandy Clarke’s secretary.’
Bren looked puzzled. ‘You have been busy.’
‘Going through their records, I found that Sandy Clarke had a visit from Paul Oakley on the morning of the twenty-third of May.’
Bren’s perplexity deepened. ‘Yeah…?’
‘This was nine days after Miki’s body was found, and two days after Oakley took over from Leon as LO on the case. It was also two days after the lab results on the pillow with Clarke’s DNA were first recorded.’
‘Okay. So Oakley wanted to familiarise himself with the scene.’
‘No, he didn’t go up to the apartment. He stayed in Clarke’s office the whole time. The secretary remembers that they were so engrossed that Clarke kept the Mayor waiting for his next appointment.’
There was silence for a moment, then Bren said softly, ‘What are you thinking, Kathy?’
‘I don’t know…’ Now it came to the point, she found she couldn’t bring it out into the open.
‘Come on. You’ve got a theory, haven’t you?’
‘Well…it’s just, the mistake, the cover-up. Like you said, both unlike the lab. And both involving the same officer who pays a private visit to the suspect at the critical time when the crucial information gets lost…’ Again she hesitated, hoping Bren would finish the train of thought for her, save her from actually putting it into words.
‘Go on,’ he said impassively.
‘I thought about that case last year, the SOCO who tried to lose evidence for money.’
Bren said nothing at first, then under his breath, ‘Hell.’
‘What do you think?’
‘I think you should talk to Brock.’
‘I can’t.’ And this time she knew she couldn’t put it into words, not all of it. ‘Oakley is a good friend of Leon, and Leon himself might have got involved without realising it, and Leon and I have just split up, so it’d look as if I was stirring this up out of spite.’
‘So you want me to take it on.’
She nodded.
‘Well…we can’t just leave it, can we?’
‘I appreciate it, Bren. I mean it. This has been really bothering me.’
‘Don’t worry. You can forget about it now.’
‘Thanks. It’s been weighing me down.’
And that was true, she realised, as she walked away. She literally did feel as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
There was a stack of mail and papers waiting on her desk, too. She flicked through them, then froze at the sight of an envelope addressed to her in immaculate handwriting she knew very well. Leon’s. A rush of possibilities came to her- he had made a terrible mistake, he couldn’t live without her, he wanted to meet again. She almost got on the phone to tell Bren to forget what she’d said about Oakley, but instead she picked up the envelope, seeing it tremble in her hand. Inside was a standard form with the report of forensic tests carried out on her car. There was no accompanying letter, not even a signature.
She sat down with a deep breath and scanned the report, hardly taking it in. No fingerprints, no distinguishing MO. Some fabric traces had been found on the jagged edge of glass remaining in the window frame. Further action requested? Kathy ticked the ‘NO’ box and slipped the form into the file tray. She tore the envelope with its neat handwriting into a dozen small pieces and threw them into the bin.
23
Paul Oakley sounded delighted to get the call from Bren, requesting a meeting. ‘I’ll come to you, Bren,’ he said. ‘Any time it suits. Today? Not a problem. I’ll be there.’
He was under the impression, so Bren soon realised, that the purpose of their meeting was to discuss ways in which his fledgling company, Independent Forensic Services, could assist the Met, and specifically the Serious Crime Branch.
‘Leon put in a plug, did he, Bren? Well, what are mates for, eh? To be honest, there’s a fortune to be made out there in what I call the badlands, you know, discreet testing of celebrities’ fag ends for dodgy journos who want to know what diseases they’ve got, that sort of stuff. But that’s not what we’re interested in. With my background in the force, true forensic work is our forte.’
Bren let him talk without interruption, trying to assess the man. He’d had little contact with him before, and tried to keep an open mind, but Oakley’s endless optimism and overenthusiastic sales pitch began to grate.
‘… Rigorous support for rigorous police work has always been my passion, Bren, and I think we can honestly compete with the old hands and come up with a service of absolute dependability, integrity and, most important, attractive cost. You and I both know what a burden it is to your inquiries to know that each and every DNA test is costing your budget three hundred and twenty pounds.
Suppose we could improve on that by, say, twenty per cent. That means twenty per cent more tests, maybe a twenty per cent better success rate.’
‘Cost is important, sure,’ Bren said, breaking into the flow. ‘But reliability has got to be the most important thing.’
‘Absolutely!’
‘And there have been a few slip-ups in the past that have been both costly and embarrassing.’
‘Sure, sure.’ Oakley nodded his head vigorously.
‘We’re just cleaning up the end of the Verge inquiry, and that was badly compromised by a lab mistake. Well, you must know all about that. You were the LO at the time, weren’t you?’
Oakley’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes became a little brighter. ‘Briefly, Bren, briefly. Then I left the force and went overseas.’
‘Where did you go?’
‘To the States. Caught up with a few contacts I’d made to get right up to speed with the latest developments over there before setting up our company. We explored a few possibilities-franchising, partnerships, etcetera-but in the end we decided to go independent. Best way.’
‘Right. So you know all about the problem with the Verge evidence. What was it, a breakdown in supervision?’
‘I’m not really acquainted with all the details, Bren. Leon told me a bit about it. He said it was all cleared up now, though. Is that right?’
‘Seems so. Apparently a clerk called Langley made a simple error. Did you know her?’
Oakley shook his head slowly. ‘Leon did mention the name. I suppose I must have bumped into her, but I can’t really recall. You know, mistakes like that can be the result of size, Bren. The organisation gets too big, too unwieldy, and quality control suffers. Whereas with a small outfit like ours, there’s more personal responsibility. Fascinating case though, the Verge murders. And you’ve cleared it all up magnificently-with a bit of help from DCI Brock, I dare say.’ He chuckled. ‘You must be delighted.’
‘Yeah, it was interesting. Did you ever meet Sandy Clarke?’
‘The killer? No, I don’t believe I had that pleasure. Must have been a devious character.’
‘Oh yes, there are a few of those around.’ Bren glanced at his watch. ‘Well now, have you any literature you can leave me, Paul? I’m afraid I’m due in a meeting.’
‘Oh, can’t I buy you lunch, Bren? Never mind, another time. Here’s our prospectus and some brochures to pass around to whoever you see fit, okay?’
Bren showed him to the door, then went up to Brock’s office.
‘Chief,’ he said, noting the ordnance survey map spread out over the old man’s desk, Brock peering closely at it through his half-rims.
‘Morning, Bren.’ He straightened.
‘The fens?’ Bren asked, seeing the tracery of dead straight roads and waterways passing unswerving across the map.