She wasn’t unaware of Dunn’s interest, then; Murray had begun to wonder.
‘He’s just told you though, at considerable personal risk. More to the point, what have they got?’
Serena was still angry because she was still young and principled – and because she was very loyal to Smith. Murray had the first inkling then of why she was so annoyed and where this was about to go.
She said, ‘Remember yesterday when I got the bank info? As soon as I had it, so did everyone else. And this morning, when Chris emailed the phone number from the hotel to me, shared with all of them, wasn’t it, you saw the email.’
He nodded in as world-weary a way as he could manage.
‘Meanwhile, over there they have confirmation that the mobile number which I gave them is Sokoloff’s, but they don’t bother to say so.’
She looked at him, waiting for some expression of outrage or anger or at least a little annoyance, but Murray could muster up none of them.
‘It’s worse than that, though, John. They’ve got a bloody registration number from the woman he lives with. They’ve had it at least an hour, while DC and Chris are up there supposedly looking for the car, among other things. Incompetent bastards!’
Murray said, ‘It isn’t incompetence – it’s politics. If you ask them, they’ll all say that they thought someone else had passed it on. What’s the registration number?’
‘But – John!’
‘Number?’
She told him from memory, and he typed it in on the second desk-top.
‘It’s simple enough, Serena. Wilson’s making a play for the new DI’s affections – it’s the next best thing he can think of after not getting the job himself. Obviously, it helps his cause if DC is out of the office and preferably out in the cold. His team all know this without being told, so there’s no way you can prove there’s any sort of conspiracy.’
‘Bloody pathetic…’
No further comment was needed as far as Murray was concerned. Something was buffering its way into existence on the second screen as the search engine ploughed on through twenty five million car registrations.
Detective Constable Butler was still annoyed, though.
‘I think Mike’s got the message, anyway.’
‘Why? What did you say to him?’
‘I told him that if he keeps me in the dark, he’ll never get to see me in the dark.’
John Murray rarely laughed out loud but he had to restrain himself at that.
‘Really? Serena, that’s a bit… Well, I don’t know. It’s a bit something. Extreme, maybe?’
‘Just a bit of fun!’
‘Is that how Mike sees it?’
‘Possibly not. But after that nastiness this morning, DC needs us to watch his back, John. I know you do, but… I probably would sacrifice my body to put Wilson in his place once and for all.’
The buffering had slowed down and Murray looked across at Serena. He had the feeling that Smith might prefer this to be dealt with now, rather than have her on the warpath in the office. If she really lets fly, there would be casualties and it was impossible to say on which side or just how many.
‘Why does DC need us to watch his back?’
‘Because of all this going on, what I’ve just been talking about. I don’t see why it doesn’t bother you a bit more, John. Obviously, a new DI changes things, we all know that, but this has started badly for DC. Alison was always onside when it mattered but now he’s on his own, that’s how it looks to me. We need to put up a fight and-’
‘No, we don’t. Let it be.’
‘No, I bloody won’t! If even you can’t-’
‘Serena! For Christ’s sake lower your voice, shut up and listen for once. There’s something you need to know.’
‘Whoever put that camera up was an idiot.’
To say that Waters was a little disappointed was an understatement.
‘And the system behind it is straight out of the dark ages.’
Smith was leaning closer to the screen in an attempt to read the data stamped at the top left of the current image; with patience, it was possible to make out a date and a time. Eventually he said, ‘Yes, absolutely right – it’s at least ten years old.’
The camera mounted on the rear wall of the Royal Victoria pointed down the narrow rectangle of the car-park but the spaces were at right angles to its line of sight, which meant that no registration numbers could ever have been seen, unless a picture was taken at the moment a vehicle was being driven in or out. Neither was the resolution up to much, the present picture taken earlier that morning being as grey and blurry as the rest they had examined so far. If, by some extraordinary piece of good fortune, the suspected mystery visitor on Saturday night or Sunday morning had managed to leave their image on the mini-disc, it was, to put it politely, likely to be viewed as inadmissible evidence.
‘Still,’ said Smith brightly, ‘we know it’s working! Now, six pictures an hour, times twenty four hours is one hundred and forty four images a day. You need to go back five and a half days, so re-wind by seven hundred and ninety two images and bingo, you might have cracked the case.’
‘How? There’s no way to scroll through them that I can see. You have to click back one by one. Then, every time you want to check the date and time, you have to risk your eyesight trying to read the data.’
‘That could take hours, couldn’t it?’
‘Exactly! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.’
Smith felt his chin speculatively, as if he had forgotten to shave that morning.
‘I see. Better get started then. I’ll fetch you a coffee.’
When Smith returned, he was carrying two cups and saucers, nice white china things embossed with the Victoria’s own crest in royal blue, and resting in each saucer was a small selection of fancy biscuits – his ability to forage in these situations was legendary. He watched Waters clicking one key repeatedly on the keyboard as he mouthed the number of clicks, and then Smith said, ‘Seven hundred and ninety two.’
Waters stopped what he was doing and looked up.
‘What?’
‘Seven hundred and ninety two – that’s about how many you’ll have to go back from this morning.’
‘Yes, I know. That’s what I’m doing…’
‘Right. Carry on.’
‘But I’ve lost count now.’
‘Never mind. Have a biscuit.’
They sat and drank some of the coffee. Smith pointed out how rare it was to find establishments that had their own crockery these days, and said that he thought these biscuits were probably customised as well, though he wasn’t sure that customised was the right word, and had Waters noticed that there was a message flashing on his iPad? Waters replied that he hadn’t as he’d been rather busy and then Smith made a helpful remark about the importance of being able to multi-task in these situations.
Waters read the message and said, ‘It’s from Serena. The mobile number is Sokoloff’s, or it was – his partner has given the sergeant in Dagenham the same number. Also, they have his car details now which she’s copied to us. I get the feeling she’s annoyed about something not being passed on earlier – the language is what you would describe as colourful. And she ends up by saying that she will never forgive you.’
The cup paused halfway on its latest visit to Smith’s mouth. He said, “Really? Another one? Sometimes the world seems to be full of women who will never forgive me.’
‘Any idea what that’s about?’
‘It could be this tie. I did wonder this morning when I put it on. The green in it clashes with the blue shirt, doesn’t it? Good news about the car, though. What is it?’
‘A Mercedes E Class E 63 AMG 2.2 saloon, black metallic, registered new in 2014 to Sokoloff.’
‘A deduction or two, then?’
‘That has to be an expensive car, especially bought new. It fits with the made-to measure suit, and it confirms that he was running a successful business.’
There was always something else, something more to be found if you looked at a new piece of intelligence in the right way – that was one of the things Smith had taught him since he arrived at Kings Lake.
‘It’s a big, fast car, isn’t it? Not exactly subtle. It makes a statement.’
‘Good – agreed. It says, look over here, my owner’s got plenty of dosh and he’s not afraid to spend it – in fact, he wants you to know he’s loaded. If you’d asked me to name three makes that Bernard might be driving around in, a Merc would have been one of them. It’s not the kind of motor you turn up in if you don’t want to be noticed. And if he’s left one of those lying around, it shouldn’t be too hard to find.’
Smith took the gold foil off another one of those biscuits and examined it, as if wondering whether, being so small and refined, it was worth biting in two – then he put the whole thing into his mouth.
‘Of course, it might be parked up somewhere in London. He might have hired a motor.’
‘Or someone might have given him a lift. We don’t actually know that he was here alone, do we?’
Smith stopped chewing the biscuit for a moment.
‘That is a good point. While you’re doing this, I’m going to get another copy of the register for Friday and Saturday. Keep at it. I know these images are rubbish but we should be able to spot a big, black Mercedes if it was ever there.’
Then from the doorway, he added, ‘By the way – we’ve gone public. When I was in the kitchen, that Gina told me there was an item on the local TV news yesterday evening. Just the usual - police are investigating the discovery of a man’s body…’
Waters said, ‘Great! Something else we should have been told.’
Smith shrugged it off.
‘Don’t worry about it. It’s my guess that the answer to what happened to Bernie Sokoloff isn’t in a computer in Kings Lake Central, and it isn’t in Essex, either. It’s here, right where we are. If working through that disc really is as slow as you’re making it out to be, after lunch you can show me how to look through the one on the front of the hotel. That should speed things up.’
‘OK. What time is lunch today?’
Smith glanced at his watch.
‘Let’s say fifteen minutes – we’ll take an early one.’
‘Here in the hotel? That’ll dent your expenses.’
‘No, I fancy a drive. I thought we’d find a pub. Perhaps out Overy way.’
The message that had caused his phone to vibrate in his pocket while Smith was talking to Waters was from John Murray. It warned him that Serena now knew about his resignation. Murray didn’t apologise because he didn’t need to – there would have been a good reason for him to tell her the truth. So, that was that – everyone who mattered now knew that he was going soon.
He went out through the front door of the Victoria as soon as he had taken shots of the old-fashioned leather-bound register – as a precaution, he went back and recorded the names for the full week before Sokoloff’s arrival on the Friday afternoon. The afternoon of his birthday… No special do at home or at that health club, no intimate dinner for two with his partner. Instead, Sokoloff had probably driven himself up to the Norfolk coast, apparently alone, checked into a good hotel, tried to pick up a couple of waitresses and then got himself run over and drowned as well. Now, as they say, one of those is careless, but both of them?
No signal again on the harbour road, but he knew that if he walked a short distance along the sea-wall that headed north from the town, he might get lucky. The first bar appeared where he thought it might, when he was level with the last landing stage before the creek widened and became a proper little estuary, but he kept on walking for another fifty yards or so and then he had two solid green bars showing on his phone. Then he called John Murray and asked what was happening at Kings Lake.
‘OK, DC. You’ve probably picked up from Serena’s message that not all the information is getting through to everyone, and you’re probably not too shocked, but I reckon we’ve got most of the picture now. They’re getting plenty together on Sokoloff. It looks as if his business, the health club, is legit, and it seems to make a lot of money. He has a fifty per cent share of it, so you’d expect him to be well off. Also, Reeve has been asking questions at the next level up – is there anything suspected or off the record – is he thought to be involved in anything iffy at the executive level these days. It doesn’t look like he is.’
The tide was flooding again, racing in, still almost a spring one, and Smith had been watching a small crab-boat struggling against it, making slow progress down the estuary. The solitary fisherman saw him watching and raised a hand as the boat crept past him. And that’s all you would need, he thought, a little boat like that would be enough to get a body out to sea under cover of darkness. You could have it all done in an hour if the tide was right.
‘Fair enough, then. But if he really did go straight ten years ago, that makes what he did last Friday even more of a mystery, doesn’t it? His Mrs must know something about this, unless they were living in the same house but leading separate lives.’
‘They’ve had her in this morning, apparently, trying to lean on her a bit, but she’s stuck to her story – that it wasn’t the first time he’d gone off for a day or two. When they asked for details of when he last did it, she started to clam up. Mike Dunn heard that she’s asked whether she should have a solicitor.’
‘Right. The honest answer was probably yes. Talking of difficult women, what happened with ours?’
Murray told him how tensions had been raised in the office earlier, and how Serena had been on the point of launching a suicide mission to defend the honour of Team Smith; Murray thought it was the appropriate moment to explain that in about three months there would be no such thing and therefore it would be a wasted sacrifice. Smith agreed entirely and thanked him. And then, for sound operational reasons, as well as because Murray was the officer Smith trusted most on the force, he gave a full account of what they had found so far, what they were working on now and where they planned to go for lunch and why.
Murray said, ‘It’s funny, DC, but no-one here has followed up on that lead you gave yesterday – that Sokoloff seems to have been up there on the coast before, and not so long ago. Or if they have, we don’t know about it.’
‘Doesn’t worry me in the slightest as long as it’s in the notes you’ve written up, John.’
‘It is.’
‘Good – all our backsides are covered, then. The thought of the alternative is appalling. If you get anything new, send it every way possible. We’ll pick it up somewhere as we’re driving about. Talk to you later.’
The little crab-boat had reached the sea. It was no more than a distant smudge on the brilliant steel mirror of the open water, and Smith had to narrow his eyes to see that it was turning to port, heading for the limestone reef half a mile out from the dunes and woods of Pinehills. From the top of the dunes, you can see the lines of little buoys that mark where the pots are laid to take the crabs and lobsters.
The memory made him open his email folder, just to see, and to his surprise there was indeed an email from Jo, the first communication in over a week. She said that she hoped he was well, and that the weather was as good in Norfolk as it was in Munich. The Germans, she thought, did winter better than summer. And, by the way, she had some news that would best be given in a phone call. She would ring him tonight unless she heard differently from him.
Chapter Fifteen
Lunch was delayed. When Smith got back to the Royal Victoria, Waters was waiting by the monitor in the office where he had left him half an hour ago, and it was evident that he had found something. Working backwards and then forwards through the stills that had been taken every ten minutes, he had established that a large black car which had b
een in the car-park all afternoon had left at some point between 19.50 and 20.00 on the Saturday evening. Of course, it had been parked in one of the spaces furthest away from the camera, but even had it been directly in front, it was unlikely that a registration plate could have been read, thanks to the poor resolution. But it was without a doubt a large, dark-coloured saloon.
Waters leaned in until his eyes were inches from the screen and said, ‘Well? Is that a Mercedes?’
Smith looked from further back.
‘Could be. Enhancement might be able to help but it’s not a good picture. Still, it’s the only big dark car there, isn’t it?’
Waters checked and agreed that it was.
Smith said, ‘Let’s say for the moment that’s the one. He’s in the bar at six o’clock enjoying a bacon and brie toasted sandwich… Which is a very nice thought, just at the moment. We don’t know how long he stays in the bar, but if he goes anywhere else, it isn’t in that car. He might have gone to his room, gone for a walk around the harbour, or gone for a ride in someone else’s motor. Then just before eight, he does go off in his car, somewhere. Do you know what we could do with more than anything else at this moment?’
‘Does it involve food?’
‘No. The weekend records for that mobile phone number. He’s got to have been in touch with someone about whatever he was up to, hasn’t he? Does it normally take this long to get them? It’s a murder, for heaven’s sake. Our new DI should be leaning on someone.’
Waters said, ‘It depends on which phone company you’re dealing with – some say yes straightaway, others follow procedures. And, of course, we might be the last to hear even when they have got them.’
They both looked at the screen. Waters clicked back and forth between the two images a couple of times, making the fuzzy dark saloon appear and then disappear. Then he said, ‘Anyway, that’s the first interesting thing I found…’
‘If your name was Rodney, I’d call you a plonker even more often than I do. What else?’
Waters had found the key that could accelerate the images into a blur. He stopped several times until he was at the point he wanted to show Smith.
Time and Tide Page 13