by JJ Marsh
Adrian debated calling Beatrice’s mobile, but if she was busy entrapping a flasher, she might not appreciate it. Instead, he sent her a text message and wrote the address on Lyndon’s notepad before replacing everything in the wallet. Afterwards, he switched his phone to silent. He was thorough, just as Beatrice had taught him. While he was there, he relieved the pressure on his bladder and congratulated himself on a fine piece of work. Ponytail wouldn’t miss his wallet, as it was the older guy’s round, and Adrian could ‘find’ it for him on the way back. Lyndon certainly deserved some kind of reward for his assistance, which was unlikely to be a chore. A coup de théâtre, indeed.
The two men hadn’t moved from their positions, hunched at the bar, already nearing the end of their pints.
“Whoops. There’s a wallet on the floor here. Does it belong to either of you?”
They both turned. Ponytail eyed Adrian and the wallet with suspicion before taking it. “It’s mine.”
“Must have fallen down when I bumped into you. Listen, I am sorry about that. Can I make amends by buying you both a beer? Or how about a chaser?”
Ponytail looked to his companion, who shook his head without even acknowledging the offer.
Ponytail shrugged. “No, you’re all right. It’s closing time anyway. Thanks anyway.” He drained his pint and climbed off the stool. “Goodnight to you.”
“Oh, goodnight.”
They shouldered their way towards the door. Adrian returned to his stool and scanned the room for Lyndon.
“What did you find out?”
The voice at his elbow made him jump. His nerves were a little stretched. Lyndon ducked back behind the bar, carrying a tower of empty pint glasses, face expectant.
“Name, address and occupation. Not bad for an amateur. Is it too late to get a glass of wine? I feel safe enough to dispense with the soda now. And I’d like to buy you a drink, for your help and all.” He tore off the address and tucked it in his wallet, handing the pad back to Lyndon.
Lyndon took it, with an impressed nod. “Not bad at all. How about we share a bottle? I’ve put one in to chill, so as soon as I’ve finished, we can go back to my place. If you like?”
“I like.” Adrian’s grin spread. Naturally lucky. He couldn’t help it.
“Only you’ll have to wait outside for me. We need to clear the pub by quarter past. Sorry. Why don’t you sit on one of the benches outside? I’ll be with you in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
“Better still, why don’t I wait by the harbour? Absorb the view.”
The glow from the pub windows faded as Adrian traced his way down the stony track to the sounds of the sea. The cold air made him wish he’d brought a jacket. He rubbed his arms, absorbing the relaxing ebb and flow of the water, the metallic clinks and clangs of boats moving with the tide, and the black, white and grey perspective afforded by the moon. He could have been in a Truffaut film. To his left stood the quarry hoppers, massive constructions of the Industrial Age, supported by a vast brick wall. Their sheer scale, not to mention dangerous edges, depths and harsh surfaces sent another chill over his shoulders. He chose to look to the right, at the moonlit water, the spots of light coming from distant cottages and the huge black solidity of the landmass which dropped to the sea.
He heard a footstep. Quicker than he expected, but there was no doubting the guy was eager. It would be perfect if Lyndon’s house had a sea view. With a smile, he turned to greet him. The shock of seeing Ponytail caused his face to fall. Before he could open his mouth, someone came up behind him and wrenched his arm painfully behind his back.
That strange accent. “Right, you’re coming with us.”
Chapter 33
“You must be out of your mind. Did you not hear what I said in there?” Virginia jerked her head in the direction of the briefing room.
“I don’t have a choice. If there are no more officers available, we have to take some of the people off Harrison. I don’t like that anymore than you do, but we can’t put all our eggs in one blanket when there’s just as much evidence to incriminate Bennett. I want people watching him.”
“Beatrice, I’m sorry, but I can’t agree. We’ve put Harrison into a vulnerable position. You were the one lecturing me on treating the girl with respect. You sat there with me today and we both assured her of our total support. And now you want to renege on our promise to keep her as safe as we possibly can.”
Beatrice clenched her teeth. “I have a duty to all the women in this city, and no plans to renege on any of the promises I made. There’s nothing specific in our case to make Avery more of a suspect than Bennett. As Grant pointed out ...”
Virginia groaned. “Grant? Oh please. See this for what it is. An attention-seeking exercise from a detective hungry for promotion. All eyes are on Harrison, and he doesn’t like it. He tried talking me into this wild goose chase but I had the sense to look behind the ‘I-worked-all-night-and-I-think-I-found-something-ma’am’ bullshit. Basically, I’ve been ignoring him, and this is just another technique to put himself centre stage.”
The woman’s ego was astounding. Beatrice took two deep breaths, determined to remain in control of her temper.
“As a matter of fact, Virginia, this is not all about you. I believe our detective work has been shoddy, and we’ve leapt to conclusions. We have two suspects and should be watching both equally hard. Karen Harrison seems to be an object of interest to either or both. Given that we are exposing her to a potential assault, I agree that the majority of our force should be with her. But in addition to a team of two on Avery, I want the same on Bennett. Which means taking two people off Harrison.”
“No. We can investigate Bennett in more detail tomorrow, but tonight, all hands on deck for our set-up. Let’s face it, you don’t even know where Bennett is.”
Beatrice had heard enough of Virginia’s patronising tone. “We will. I’ve briefed the Surveillance Centre to inform us if he appears on camera. Grant and I plan to locate him, follow him, talk to his wife and find out everything we can.”
“Leaving me to manage the Harrison operation single-handed?”
“Exactly. Totally on your own, backed up by a mere twenty-six officers. Which makes fifty-two hands.”
Virginia’s expression was hard and cold. “I find this extremely unprofessional, I have to say. We’re supposed to operate as a team, not run off on different tangents. You’re being pig-headed.”
“And you’re being blinkered. We have the same objective at heart. Just differing opinions of how to achieve it. I want to turn every stone to find this reptile. I’ll report back as and when I find something.”
Grant’s gratitude for her support manifested itself in a non-stop justification of himself on the drive to Crouch End.
“... which is why I approached you, because even if I rate her as a senior officer, all the personal stuff has clouded the issue, although for some reason she’s definitely keeping me at arm’s length now, which is fine, plenty more fish and all that, but she should still see the difference when I’m trying to get her attention for a genuine issue, and I think part of the reason she’s slapping me down is because she knows I want to transfer to the Met, but the way I see it, in situations like this, we should rise above politics ...”
Eventually, Beatrice shut him up. “I appreciate everything you’ve said, Grant, and your candour is reassuring. So I’ll be equally honest and tell you that if another woman is assaulted in the Finsbury Park area, the Met intend to replace me on this investigation. Thus my motives for keeping an eye on Bennett are as much self-preservation as anything else. Now, what say we leave both the personal and the politics out of this and just concentrate on finding the bloke?”
“Fair enough, ma’am. Sorry. Still heard nothing back from Fitch on the mobile trace. So you want to hit the gym first, or visit his wife?” He checked the mirror as he indicated right into Hornsey Road.
“The gym’s likely to be rather crowded, isn’t it? Post-work rush. Let�
�s visit his wife. What does she do?”
“Works at various sports centres, including CrossTrain. She’s on the books as a qualified physio but mainly teaches classes. She’s the Pilates instructor. And a bit of yoga, spinning, that sort of thing.”
Beatrice glanced at Grant, irritated by his absurd mirrored sunglasses. Was he aspiring to join the CIA? “How do we know she’s not at work?”
“I checked her schedule. She teaches mornings only. Bored housewives and all that.”
“What is ‘spinning’?” she asked, ignoring the chauvinism.
“Sort of cycling on a stationary bike. Cardio-intensive but boring as hell. Not my sort of thing.”
“Nor mine. Then again, nor is rugby. All that scrumming and tackling and grabbing and ending up under a pile of none-too-fragrant bruisers.”
A proud smile spread over Grant’s face. “It’s a man’s game, all right.”
Beatrice wrinkled her nose and chose not to respond. She looked out the window. “Good Lord, look at this. Crouch End is a world away from Finsbury Park, isn’t it? Mothers in Birkenstocks, fathers with pushchairs, wine bars, delis, and I bet it would take us less than five minutes to find a child called Imogen.”
“London’s like that. Here we are. Lightfoot Road. How do you want to play it?”
“By ear. But if he’s there, would you be so good as to loom?”
“No sweat. I’m good at looming.”
“I can well imagine.”
Suzanne Bennett’s thighs were no broader than Beatrice’s forearm. She opened the door wearing an all-white tracksuit, full make-up and a perky ponytail.
“Good afternoon, Mrs Bennett. My name is Detective Inspector Beatrice Stubbs, and this is Detective Sergeant Ty Grant of the London Transport Police. We wondered if we could have a word with your husband. He’s helping us with an investigation, you see.”
Grant turned his head to her. He’d obviously noted how she phrased their introduction, thereby avoiding mention of the Met.
The woman laughed and rolled her eyes. “Talk about the left hand not knowing what the right’s up to. He’s in work. They called him in last minute, ’cos someone’s off sick. Again.”
Beatrice did not look at Grant, but could feel him tense. “Oh that is stupid of me. I should have checked. In that case, we’ll catch up with him back at base. But while we’re here, I don’t suppose I could have a few minutes of your time, could I?”
Suzanne Bennett stepped back and gestured inside. “Sure. But I’ve got book club in twenty-five minutes. It’s only the other side of the park, but I have to leave in quarter of an hour.”
“Thank you. We won’t delay you. Which book are you discussing tonight?”
“Kitchen Roll or Toilet Paper. Have you read it?”
“I’ve not heard of that one.”
“Well, get yourself a copy. It’s brilliant. A self-help manual for women who can’t see the difference between Nanny and Nurse when dealing with husbands, bosses, children, neighbours, friends and all that. One of them books where you just go ‘Oh yeah’, all the way through, you know what I mean?”
The terraced house, like most in the area, possessed an impressive depth. The spotless living room stretched all the way back to the neat little garden. White décor gave the room a spacious feel despite the fact that every surface was covered with photographs of the happy couple. Suzanne chattered away as she poured glasses of mineral water and Beatrice sensed that with some skilled questioning, they could find out a great deal from this painfully thin female. However, whether anything was possible in fifteen minutes remained to be seen.
Beatrice shifted forward on the sofa, while Grant stood by the mantelpiece. “After that passionate recommendation, I’ll have to read it. Now, Mrs Bennett, not to waste too much of your time ...”
“Will you call me Suzanne? I hate Mrs Bennett. Makes me feel like something out of Jane Austen.”
“Certainly. And you can call me Beatrice. I wonder if I can ask you how Nathan feels about being called into work at such short notice? You can speak freely, as I have no control over staffing rotas.”
She cocked her head like a small bird. “Can’t lie to you, he’s not happy. I mean, once in a while is fair enough. But as he says, it’s getting ridiculous. Over the summer, almost every week when he’s off, he gets a call. He’s not complaining about the extra money, course not, but it spoils any plans we’ve made.”
“I see. Yes, that must be a nuisance. And this has become worse over the summer?”
“Yeah. It happened a couple of times before we went on holiday. But since then, it’s been once a month, easy. Sometimes twice. This month, he’s been called in three times.”
Beatrice shook her head. “That’s unacceptable. Not least because we cannot expect our staff to operate at peak performance if they’re tired or demotivated.”
“Yeah, he is looking tired. And today he left his mobile at home again. That’s happening more and more. I reckon he’s getting forgetful under all the pressure.”
Beatrice glanced at Grant. “Listen, Suzanne, I might be able to do something to help. If you could you let me have the dates he was called in unexpectedly, I’ll have a quiet word with the powers-that-be. See if we can’t make this system a little fairer.”
“Ooh, now you’re asking! Let me have a look at the calendar. That’s where I usually make notes.” She bounced off towards the kitchen and was back before Grant had finished raising his eyebrows.
“Here we go. This is nowhere near all of them, but I can give you some of them in the last couple of months.” She began scribbling dates on the back of an envelope. Beatrice scanned the calendar as she waited.
“That’s very helpful of you. And, Suzanne, why don’t we keep this visit to ourselves? So when his life starts to change, he’ll never know how much his clever wife is responsible.”
Suzanne beamed, Grant stared and Beatrice sipped her water.
Chapter 34
At Finsbury Park Control Centre, Beatrice and Grant showed Kalpana Joshi the matching dates against the pattern of attacks.
“He told his wife he was working overtime and went out to sexually harass other women? I just cannot believe Nathan Bennett capable of that. He’s not the type.” Kalpana gazed at the screen. “But he is, isn’t he?”
Grant shrugged. “Seems you can’t tell who’s the type just by looking.”
“What I find even stranger is that they’re trying to have children,” added Beatrice.
Grant gawped at her. “When did she tell you that? Or was it just feminine intuition?”
“On her calendar, she’d marked five little red asterisks each month. And approximately a week and a half later, a block of days highlighted in pink.”
Kalpana nodded. “Ovulation. Her fertile days. In that case, do you think he’s on strict rations?”
“Even if he’s only allowed to hump her once a year, that’s still no excuse for what he’s done,” Grant huffed.
“Quite. And delicately put,” agreed Beatrice. “The problem we have now is how to find him. Every member of our team is on surveillance, watching Paul Avery and our police decoy. Bennett may go after her, too. After all, we can’t be sure who it is that follows her on camera every night. If it’s Bennett, and he does go for Karen, he’ll walk right into the same trap.”
Kalpana pressed her palms together and rested her chin on her fingertips. “But if he’s got someone else in mind, where do we start?”
“On the street. He conveniently left his mobile at home so we can’t trace him that way,” said Grant.
“Our operation is all over the Finsbury Park area,” said Beatrice. “Grant and I taking off in another direction is a politically unpopular move, so we can’t get any more officers as support. But we hoped you might be able to provide us with a few extra pairs of eyes to search for Bennett.”
“One. One pair of eyes. I can’t swing any more officers, but for what it’s worth, I’m at your disposal.”
/> One. One bright, experienced senior officer on their side. It was better than they could have hoped.
Kalpana left to change, Grant went outside to make some personal calls and Beatrice rang Hamilton. She knew Virginia had his ear and would have reported Beatrice’s decision to change tactic as soon as she was able. It was a wonder Hamilton hadn’t been roaring at her already.
“Stubbs? What do you want now?” Even for Hamilton, the tone was especially irascible.
“I apologise for the disturbance, sir. I just wanted to inform you that the investigation has widened somewhat. DI Lowe is supervising the lure and surveillance pairs. DI Joshi, DS Grant and I are following up another potential lead.”
“I understood you had your man marked and it was simply a matter of catching him in the act, so to speak. Why are you chasing another lead?”
Beatrice acknowledged her boss’s precise grasp of events. No matter how many cases ran simultaneously, Hamilton had an overview of every one. She used to think he was checking up on her. Now she saw it as the mark of an excellent manager.
“Your information is correct, sir. But look at it this way: we’re 98% sure of our suspect, therefore we’ve allocated the giant’s share of the manpower to observing him. And the female officer he’s been watching. Yet there is an outside chance of another man having slipped the net. Just to cover every base, sir, three senior officers are going to locate him, observe him and question him.”
Hamilton’s voice dropped. “Are you telling me the whole joint effort involving a staggering amount of expenditure and overtime has been barking up the wrong tree?”
“No sir, we can’t be sure ...”
“You can’t be sure. And did I comprehend you correctly? You don’t know where your second suspect is?”
“As of yet, sir, we’re uncertain of his whereabouts.”
“Don’t doublespeak me, Stubbs. You think you’ve buggered up the ID, you’ve set the dogs on the wrong man and now you and Lowe are haring all over North London hoping to find a needle in a bloody haystack.”