‘So he could have killed her,’ said Janice.
‘Except that he never met eagle-eyed Mrs Farrier and didn’t steal her letter opener, because she only ever saw him in the street.’ He returned the tray. ‘Thank you, that was awful. So somehow he got into the gardens and waited for her, knowing that she’d walk the dog. Then Ritchie Jackson turned up and started taking pictures, forcing him to hide in the bushes.’
‘Don’t you think that’s a bit of a wild coincidence?’ Renfield asked.
Bryant looked surprised. ‘Not at all. Helen Forester always walked the dog at the same hour, and both her husband and the gardener had solid reasons for being there. Helen was attacked and fell to the ground – and what do you think happened when her husband emerged from the bushes? The dog ran to him. It was his dog! It probably wouldn’t leave him alone. So when he went to his next safe haven in Green Park he had to take the dog with him, which was why he had to tie it up there. We’ll probably pick up plenty of CCTV footage of Forester and the terrier, but it won’t prove anything.’
‘How are we supposed to find him?’ asked Renfield.
‘Maybe he left some kind of clue in the Mercedes,’ said Bryant. ‘We know where the car is. And we could have another crack at Forester’s former work colleagues.’
‘You’re sure he went to his wife for money?’ Longbright asked. ‘A man like him must have cash squirrelled away all over the place.’
Bryant broke off a piece of poppadom and crunched it noisily. ‘I think you’re right. He needed to see her about something else.’
‘Jackson’s sticking with his story,’ said Renfield, ‘and I think he’s telling the truth. He didn’t see anyone else. Why are the simplest cases the hardest to crack? What do we do now?’
‘We take the dog for a walk,’ replied Bryant.
17
‘LOSS OF RESPECT CAN MAKE A MAN DO TERRIBLE THINGS’
‘What do you mean, they’ve taken the dog for a walk?’ said Raymond Land, still eyeing the malevolent pigeon on his windowsill. ‘Bryant’s not gone potty again, has he?’
‘He’s trying to find Forester,’ Longbright explained, dumping the Clement Crescent interviews on Land’s desk. ‘He’s got Colin and Meera talking to park-keepers, and we’re distributing E-FIT images at every green space on the shelter list.’
‘What good’s that going to do?’ Land ignored the interviews, choosing instead to heft an ancient volume of the Yellow Pages. ‘By the time anyone spots him he’ll have moved on.’
‘Do you have a better idea?’
‘I do, as it happens. Nobody survives on the streets for long without help. Somebody let this bloke sofa-surf before he started hitting the parks.’ He carefully opened the window. The pigeon watched impassively, then took a tentative step backward.
Longbright was doubtful. ‘Forester doesn’t have any close friends. We tried talking to his colleagues and they all said they hadn’t seen him. They shut up at the mention of his name. Even the assistant John spoke to says she has nothing else to add.’
‘Then they either hate him or they’re scared,’ said Land, not unreasonably. ‘You say he carried on driving into work after he was fired.’
‘Yes, until he got duffed up in his car park.’
‘So there’s a gap between the date of his contract termination and the time when he started following this rough-sleeper group’s advice.’ He slammed the directory down on the sill. The pigeon sidestepped it and eyed him with disdain. A gust of wind blew the interview papers everywhere.
Longbright decided that although her boss had lousy aim, he might have a point. She paused in the doorway. ‘By the way, Leslie Faraday was just on the phone for you. He wouldn’t speak to anyone else. Did you catch the call?’
‘Er, no.’
‘It’s just that he only ever rings to make trouble.’
Land attempted to look busy. ‘Get on with those interviews, will you?’
Longbright shrugged and left. She and Vesta caught the tube to Brook Green, a sliver of verdant parkland that existed beneath the polluted haze of Hammersmith, now in a state of wintry bareness. Like many of London’s more haphazard open spaces its grass had been cropped, its bushes pruned until it resembled a lonely pensioner’s front garden. The pair followed an Edwardian grey-brick terrace around the park’s edge. ‘How well do you know London?’ Longbright asked Vesta.
‘Not well at street level.’ Vesta checked the house numbers. ‘Of course I have made myself familiar using online walk-throughs. I did not think we would come here on the Underground.’
‘It’s usually quicker and we don’t have to pay. You don’t mind being taken away from a desk?’
‘Not at all. I like being outside.’ Vesta looked up at the houses with uncertainty.
‘After a few months of trudging about in the rain you might change your mind.’ Longbright sniffed. ‘I think I’m coming down with a cold. When I was in Cologne it was always raining.’
‘You have been to Cologne? With the unit?’
‘No, I was a hostess in a nightclub on Zülpicher Straße. I wore a strapless satin gown and persuaded drunk businessmen to buy Chinese cognac. It was all very immoral and paid for my police training.’
Vesta looked rather shocked. ‘Oh. This is not an English thing to do, I think.’
‘You’d be surprised at what English people do.’ Longbright counted the door numbers.
‘We have more resources in Cologne but perhaps not your freedom.’ Vesta studied her companion. Longbright struck her as heroic and unappreciated. Why did she stay?
‘The PCU won’t be much of a career stepping-stone for you,’ Longbright warned.
‘But there are perhaps lessons to be learned, even if they are illegal and ridiculous. You are not married?’
‘Just to my job. I’m not sure anyone’s special enough to deserve me.’
‘I too am single. For now it’s the right thing. There are always sex partners to be found if you need pleasure, yes? Also I play in a band.’
‘Oh, what kind of thing do you play?’
‘The trumpet.’
‘No, I meant—’
‘Ah, I see. I play German jazz-funk. It’s a police band.’
‘What’s it called?’
‘The German Jazz-Funk Police Band. You should come and hear us. We are very good, every note perfect and all in the right order. This is the house, yes?’ Steffi held open the gate. ‘Shall I conduct the interview?’
‘I’ll do this one,’ Longbright suggested. ‘You’ll soon get plenty of practice, don’t worry.’ She decided she rather liked Steffi Vesta. Having an outsider around made her take a step back and look at herself. Like that’s a good idea, she thought.
Helen Forester’s sister Catherine was small, grey and as wide as a gate. She was five years older than her sister and less well cared for, exhausted and disordered, with eyes predisposed to disappointment. She looked as if she’d been crying. Her kitchen was filled with the smell of stewing beef and so many saucepans and cooking pots that there was barely any room for the three women to stand.
‘I’m sorry about the mess,’ she said, gesturing helplessly. ‘My partner prepares meals for the community centre. I have some folding chairs somewhere. I’ve been trying to clear up but, well, now with Helen – is there any news at all?’
‘Mrs Forester’s husband has been placed at the crime scene,’ said Longbright, ‘so we have some questions about him.’
‘That’s awful. He can’t have been involved, can he? In spite of everything that happened between them he still loved her. I could make tea – perhaps we should find a place …’ She tried to locate anything that would serve as a table. A small black cat rubbed itself against her legs.
‘When did you last see your sister?’ Longbright asked.
‘Let me see – it’s hard to remember …’ Her anxiety was palpable. She looked about for somewhere to sit but nothing seemed suitable.
‘How long roughly?’
‘About three weeks, although she often called – she worried about me. I have panic attacks. Ever since I was little. We grew up in the countryside. The city isn’t good for me. Helen always liked it more.’
‘Do you get on with her husband?’
‘No, I can’t say I care for him.’ She reached over and reduced the heat under one of her saucepans.
‘Why not?’
‘I suppose he’s always frightened me a little. He’s very ambitious. He likes to show off and take chances. I suppose his job taught him that. I think much of their relationship was based on status.’
‘When your sister visited, did Mr Forester come along?’ Longbright asked.
‘Only the first few times. I didn’t see much of him. My partner didn’t like him. After Charlie was born they made no attempt to change the way they lived, and you have to with a baby, don’t you? They travelled a lot, but not together. Their schedules didn’t allow them to be at home very often.’
‘Would you say Charlie was neglected?’
Catherine touched the fine gold chain at her neck, trying for the words. ‘No, he had the best care, the best toys – but Helen wasn’t the maternal type. She never put Charlie’s needs first.’
Longbright made a note. ‘Can you give me an example?’
‘She held his second birthday party at that club, Soho House.’ She thought for a moment. ‘It was like a work event, champagne and canapés and all the right people – for a two-year-old! That boy didn’t have a normal loving environment. Helen didn’t like us looking after him.’
‘Why not?’
Catherine looked about herself helplessly. ‘I don’t think she saw us as good role models for him. We don’t move in important circles. But I often went to the park with Sharyn and little Charlie. I didn’t tell Helen. It was our secret.’
‘This was the boy’s nanny, Sharyn Buckland? You were friends?’
‘She was very kind to me. She doted on Charlie. She couldn’t have children of her own. But it was awkward. She had a soft spot for my brother-in-law, you see. I think she always hoped that he would divorce my sister and turn to her. She saw me as an ally.’
‘Was Mr Forester attracted to her?’
‘I shouldn’t have thought so. If he was, he certainly never acted on it while he was married.’
‘How can you be sure of that?’ asked Steffi.
‘I told you – he still loved Helen. It was his saving grace. Besides, she would have known and told me. She told me about the assistant, Melissa. But she knew it was only one night.’
‘How could she be sure about that?’
‘She just knew. Jeremy spent a fortune on an apartment in Hong Kong. I saw the photographs – an incredible place. He couldn’t meet the payments. But he wouldn’t do anything to Helen.’
‘What makes you think that?’
Catherine looked astonished by the question. ‘You wouldn’t hurt someone you still cared about, would you? That’s why he hid the loss of his job, surely? Because he couldn’t bear to reduce himself in her eyes.’ It was clear that she considered the idea unimaginable. ‘It was Helen who asked for the separation, and he had to agree. Things deteriorated very quickly. The bailiffs came. She only had days to get out of the house. To think that you’re always going to be well-off and then to discover you have nothing – it must have been a terrible shock.’
‘Did your sister have any enemies?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘What about Sharyn Buckland? Do you have any way of contacting her?’
‘After Jeremy lost his job she didn’t bother staying in touch. I imagine she started a new job somewhere else.’
‘Did you think they might have gone off together?’ Steffi asked. Janice was surprised; the thought hadn’t crossed her mind.
‘God, no, not for a second. I mean – Sharyn was with Charlie when he died. The tragedy was a huge barrier between them all. Jeremy was heartbroken by the death of his son. I’m sure he felt guilty for not having been there. He was returning from Hong Kong that night and his flight was delayed.’ The room suddenly felt underheated, as if thoughts of loss had opened windows to the chill morning air.
‘I think we’ve covered everything for now.’ Longbright handed Catherine a PCU card. ‘If you hear from your brother-in-law or think of anything else that might be useful, please call this number.’
‘When will my sister’s body be released?’ Catherine tugged her cardigan more tightly around her shoulders as they headed back to the front door.
‘Within the next twenty-four hours, so you’ll be able to make your arrangements then.’
‘I still can’t believe something like this could have happened.’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘Strangled. Jeremy told me that was why they met.’
Longbright stopped. ‘What do you mean?’
‘He said it was the first thing he noticed about her. Helen had such an unusual neck. Like yours, so long and white.’ She pointed to Steffi’s throat. ‘He bought her an emerald necklace; it was his first gift. He said her neck was her best feature.’
The thought stayed with Longbright after they left.
‘Is that normal?’ she asked Steffi as they started back towards Shepherd’s Bush Road. ‘I mean, do guys compliment you on your neck?’
‘All the time,’ said Steffi. ‘I had a boyfriend, he used to call me his white river bird. Tell me, do all English people apologize so much for their houses?’
‘All the time,’ said Longbright. ‘Apologizing is considered polite.’
‘It was not how I expected you to gather evidence. You gave her privileged information about Mr Forester being at the crime scene.’
‘What were you expecting?’
‘Forester’s sister could be in collusion with the suspect, no?’
Longbright turned her collar up against the rain. ‘I needed to gain her trust so that she would surrender information quickly and willingly. She’s not colluding with him.’
‘How is it possible to know such a thing?’
‘Steffi, trust me, you can tell. The way she looks and lives, the kind of person he is, they have nothing to share except the memory of a wife and sister.’
They set off in the direction of Hammersmith tube station. Steffi’s long stride meant that Longbright had trouble keeping up with her. ‘This is surmise, and would not be acceptable in my unit,’ said Steffi. ‘I speak your language but there are many things I don’t understand here.’
Longbright cast a sidelong glance at her companion. ‘Like what?’
‘Your Mr Bryant.’
Longbright laughed. ‘You’re not alone there. I think John and I are the only ones who truly appreciate him.’
‘How old is he?’
‘Only John knows that.’
‘He has no respect for formal procedures, I think.’
‘No, it’s not how he works.’
‘Then how does he work?’
‘He examines old books and talks to strangers and makes connections no one else has noticed.’
‘But this is not a practical method of investigation.’
‘You’re right. You won’t find it in any instruction manual. No one else is able to do it, not even John. It’s like watching a magic trick. You see all the movements but you can’t duplicate their effect. Perhaps you’ll witness him in action. Right now, we have to concentrate on finding Forester.’
‘I have heard of similar cases to Mr Forester,’ Steffi said as they crossed the road. ‘There was a businessman in Munich who lost his job and carried on going to work for two whole years. Imagine! He put on a suit and tie, and drove to the company car park from his house each day, and sat in his vehicle until it was time to go home. His family lived in Schwabing, which is an expensive part of the city. His three children were in private schools, his wife and friends supported all kinds of charities, and he couldn’t bring himself to break the news to them. They found out eventually, of course.’
‘What happened?’ Longbright asked.
‘He shot his whole family dead,’ said Steffi with a shrug. ‘Then he turned his gun on himself. These things happen. Loss of respect can make a man do terrible things.’
18
‘THERE ARE DARK ROOTS TO THIS CASE’
‘I don’t know why we had to bring the dog with us,’ said May, watching in annoyance as his partner tried to extricate his legs from Beauchamp’s tangled leash. ‘This isn’t a Disney film. He’s not going to tell us where the killer’s hiding.’
The terrier kept his noisy nose to the ground, trying to follow traces from the path in Clement Crescent into the musty gloom of the dripping bushes. ‘Beauchamp needs to be exercised,’ said Bryant, ‘and I wanted to take another look at Helen Forester’s flat.’
‘But why? Dan has already been over it.’
‘He looked for blood spots, stains, bits of alien dust and irregular website visits. He doesn’t have a devious mind.’
‘What do you want to look for?’
‘Clement Crescent wasn’t on the rough sleepers’ list. Forester chose to make this an extra stop because his wife lived here. He was desperate enough to cross the city and risk visiting a spot where his creditors knew he might show up.’
May waited. The dog crouched, its legs trembling. Bryant struggled long and painfully with a plastic bag. Finally May exploded. ‘Well?’ he cried.
Bryant looked up innocently. ‘Well, what?’
‘Why did he risk coming here?’
‘I would have thought it was obvious.’
‘If it was obvious I wouldn’t be asking you, would I?’
‘I don’t know. You might be humouring me.’ Bryant scooped Beauchamp’s leavings into his bag and knotted it. ‘People must really adore dogs to fondle their warm bowel movements every day. Forester needed something more important than money. Let’s go up.’
After only a day the flat had already assumed a stale, unlived-in atmosphere, but a faint trace of perfume could be discerned in the bedroom. Dan Banbury had stacked and sealed half a dozen plastic boxes in a corner of the dark hall, ready for removal to the PCU. Bryant headed for the kitchen with the dog.
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