“Hello science team,” Maruma said as he knocked on the door. “I have bought you coffee in exchange for information.” Grayling stood just behind him and they both raised up carriers with cardboard coffee cups. Although the Bunker’s coffee was top notch, the SOCO’s were famous for their desire for syrups, which was why gingerbread was present along with many other flavours.
“Come in,” a SOCO called Steve replied, “I have your report. Technically, I have to give it to you regardless but we’re down for a bronze age exchange of goods.” Hands shot out and took the coffees. Grayling and Maruma could only look on in shock at how this hot coffee was started without any care for lips and burning.
“So, what have we got?”
“Right,” said a man who was cube shaped, “there is only one set of fingerprints on the rope and the bag it came in, and that’s the victims, a Jonathan Stewart. There was quite a collection of prints throughout the room and we have matched most of them with data taken from the subject’s family and several friends. However, despite taking prints from everyone seemingly connected with the family, there are two sets which aren’t matched.”
“Is our life about to get easier and one unknown set match Kofi?”
“No, but they are on the pen you noted.”
Maruma raised a hand in triumph and exclaimed “double six.”
“What have I told you about embarrassing us,” Grayling warned him.
“It is good though.”
“Nothing is good enough for that level of saddo. Okay,” Grayling continued “anything else?”
“Well the prints don’t match our database. In contrast, we can identify every print taken from the scene of Kofi Salmons death. None of them belonged to Stewart or any of the mystery prints.”
“So, did you find anything that links these two deaths together?”
“Yes.”
“Ooooooh.”
Grayling rolled her eyes at Maruma. “You sound like Frankie Howerd.”
“The legend.”
“Both of the men used the same kind of rope. Now, I can tell you, there’s a lot of different kinds of rope out there but they have identical rope, so I reckon you want to get down to that DIY shop and check.”
“Oh, we have, they have five kinds of cord in stock. In a line.”
“Well then,” the SOCO smiled, “there’s a twenty percent chance it’s a coincidence they took it, and quite a chance they knew. I dunno how, but maybe there was some way they exchanged details before. Or like I said, a one in five chance. Actually, that sounds more believable now. Just pretend I drew a big red circle around the prints on the pen and forget this bit.”
“Thanks Steve,” Grayling said, sipping at her own coffee because she never knowingly passed a Mocha, “that’s useful. In which case…” She made a wide sweeping motion with her arm and Susan stepped forward out of the doorway, where she’d been lurking, and raised a bag in the air. “Cookies, straight from DI Sharma’s supply.”
“Oooooh.”
“Don’t you start Steve, don’t you start.”
Grayling clicked a button and checked the SOCO report had appeared in her folder, then leant back in her chair. “The cupboard is full,” she said to Maruma.
“What?” Susan asked.
“The… cup… yeah” Grayling conceded, “it doesn’t make any sense to outsiders.”
“Do we sound like SOE members in occupied France?” Maruma asked.
“I don’t know what that means,” Susan confessed.
“What do they teach in schools about the Second World War these days?” he said with evident concern.
“To be fair Sol,” Grayling jumped in, “they didn’t teach SOE in my day. I only know because you gave me a three-hour lecture when we tried to watch that movie.”
“I didn’t.”
“Oh, you did.”
“I might have done.”
“Don’t get me wrong, it was interesting. At first. Anyway, let’s get going.”
“Great,” Susan said, “so what are we looking into first?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? I thought…”
“Sol and I are booked onto the MIND Blue Light Mental Health Awareness Course, which I’m promised isn’t as long as the name.”
“What?”
Maruma took over. “MIND is a mental health charity and they run courses on how police and ambulance can deal with the mentally ill. Basically, we as the police force should pay for this training for us but the police are broke, so we get a charity to do it instead. And don’t get me wrong, everyone who’s been on it has come back better equipped to deal with things.” Maruma picked up his radio and clicked a button. “Mr Google, what percentage of police prisoners have serious mental health issues?”
“Fifteen percent” Green replied clearly with no time to look it up.
“See.”
Susan pointed a finger. “Do you do that a lot?”
“Yes.”
“So,” Grayling said, “I’m sure you can come in with us.”
“Err, no.” Susan said.
“No?”
“I’d rather not.”
“Why?”
“I have an appointment.” Susan said smiling.
“She’s lying,” Maruma shot back.
“I’m not,” Susan protested.
“Actually,” Grayling began to explain, “Sol is very good at telling if someone is being honest. He reads people.”
“I’ve noticed him looking at me with that curious expression,” Susan said.
“Yes, when we weren’t sure whether to trust you. And I believe him. If you’re lying… Susan, you can trust us. We’re police.”
“Alright. My sister just came out of a secure unit, she tried to kill herself. I don’t want to go to a Blue Light Mental Health thingy in any way.”
“F, F,” Grayling said surprised, “of course not silly. You just had to say. Go off, kill some time and get back to us this evening. Then we’ll start work back on the case.”
“Okay. Thank… evening?”
“Yes,” Maruma confirmed, “we’re what you might call workaholics.”
“That’s Sols nice way of saying we don’t get out much,” Grayling noted. “Now shoo, go chill while we go learn. And maybe next time we’ll all be able to meet in the middle.”
“Now you sound corporate.”
“I said shoo.”
Susan knocked on the door to the Bunker, because she thought it polite, and only then waved the pass which would open it. It hadn’t passed her by that half the time the door was left open and she didn’t yet feel able to ask if this was some odd policy to make the place feel homely, or just a wonky door. But when she’d stepped inside, she saw everyone she’d been introduced to present and correct; Sharma and Lindleman were hunched around one screen, and Grayling and Maruma were sat side by side on the other side of the office in front of another.
“Ah, good morning,” Maruma called, “did you bring cake?”
“No?”
“Well, regulations prevent me from ordering you to go and get cake, so you better come and look at this.” Maruma finished by waving her over.
Susan nodded uncertainly before Grayling explained “he’s joking. Somewhere in his labyrinthine mind that is funny.”
Susan came over and pulled up a chair. “I have to give it to you these are the comfiest office chairs I’ve ever seen.”
“Yeah, you’re not meant to know this, but they don’t come from the budget. The DCI bought them himself in the belief that if we sit comfortably, we work saner.”
“Really?”
“Yes, but now you forget it. The coffee machine is also magic in origin, as is the sofa. But shush.”
“Yes, DC Grayling. So, what are we doing?”
“Oh, the endless joy of going through six months of text messages from a teenage boy.” Grayling said it like she’d say, ‘having your legs waxed’.
“So, explain?”
“Oka
y. Well, the 101. Mobile phone companies log everything you do. So, we have a list of every single text message Jonathan Stewart sent, with its time of day and physical location. This is why some people like encrypted messaging, but Jonathan didn’t use any of that, so now we have to read,” she looked at the screen, “twenty-one thousand and seventy-two messages. F. I hate teenagers.”
“Also,” Maruma added, “it’s looking unlikely we’ll find anything.”
“How so?” Susan asked.
“Well, if there is any connection between the two deceased, it looks like they’ve been hiding it, and well. So, if they weren’t using encrypted messaging on these phones, I doubt they said anything suspect. In fact, I’d wager they had other phones.”
“Burner phones, something we have yet to find. Although don’t write that Susan,” Grayling instructed, “because it is speculation based on Maruma’s game theory.”
“Not actual Game Theory,” Sol pointed out.
“So, you are reading twenty, what?”
“Twenty-one thousand and seventy-two.”
“That number of messages?”
“No,” Sol said, “because I have to read the other lads and he sent over ten thousand.”
“That sounds mind numbing.”
“Yes, but essential. Detective work isn’t usually sudden stabs of inspiration, it’s grinding away at data until something is found. So, by the end of today we’ll have got through these.”
“Can I help?” Susan offered.
“I wasn’t joking about the cake…”
“Yeah, okay, I’ll go and get you some supplies.”
“Is she asleep?” Grayling asked.
“She looks it,” Sol replied, as they both turned to check if Susan was still asleep on the sofa, laid end to end and passed out.
“She looks so young,” Grayling noted.
“Whereas we feel old?”
“Spot on.”
“Do you think we should wake her?”
“She is supposed to be shadowing us. We have conclusions. We probably shouldn’t bugger off home.” Grayling was as good as her word in the worst possible way because she picked an apple off her desk and threw it at Susan. It bounced off her stomach and made her jerk upright.
“You’re under arrest,” Soloman said.
“I don’t know where it came fro… hang on. I was asleep.”
“Nice rest?” Grayling asked.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have. What time is it?”
“Just after ten pm. Time for us to go home.”
“Oh, found anything?”
“Almost nothing.”
“Oh, that’s a bummer.”
“Not at all,” Maruma said proudly, “we said almost.”
Susan rubbed her face and turned to sit with her feet on the floor. “So, what’s the almost?”
Grayling began to tick off her fingers. “Neither boy is mentioned in each other’s messages. Jonathan’s texts show a gradual decline in sense turning into a leap off a precipice in terms of mental health, but never says why. Kofi seemed a picture of health and confidence until after Jonathan’s suicide, when he appears to fall apart. But again, nothing is said as to why. We can find no tangible connection between the two beyond the matching suicide, the following decline and… both have attended the same church. Now, it’s a big church, pulling in a congregation of over a thousand with multiple services a week, clubs and meetings every night. It’s possible to go and never see someone else who goes. But, nonetheless, they both went.”
“So, the thing is Susan,” Maruma said taking over, “you could say we have very little to go on and only a tenuous connection. Like a version of them both shopping at the same supermarket. Or you could see it like we do.”
“Which is?”
“No one spends six months going crazy without saying why. He’s hiding why. He hid why. Kofi knew, I’m sure. And the only link we can find is the church so…”
Grayling resumed, “we will go and scope out the church. You are most welcome to come. We both have tomorrow off as it’s Saturday, and the DCI is insisting we take it off, so we will both be visiting New Hope Church on Sunday morning for some low-key wandering about. We assume you will be there?”
“Oh yes. Ready to report.”
“Dress to blend in.”
“I have bright red hair.”
“We’re not going to blend in.”
Maruma mused “you could follow six feet behind us.”
“I’m going to assume that’s a ‘Holiday in Cambodia’ reference and not your terrible attempt at office larks,” Grayling said looking down her glasses at him.
“Fair point.”
“So, what do you two do on a day off?” Susan asked.
Grayling and Maruma exchanged looks before the latter said, “why don’t you join our crew for the day?”
Grayling snorted with laughter. “Our what?”
“Crew,” Maruma replied. “We have a crew.”
“No, we don’t. Susan, how many people are in a crew?”
Susan tried “four or five?”
“Exactly,” Grayling replied, “but it’s just the two of us. We aren’t a crew. Or a posse.”
“So, a team?” Maruma tried.
“Possibly.”
“Oh, so you hang out on your days off?”
“You make that sound odd,” Grayling replied to Susan.
“I, err… expected you to get away from police life and hang out with your friends.”
“Is this the bit where I admit neither Sol nor I have any friends?”
“What?”
“Long story. Okay, short story. I grew apart from the people I knew at school and university. They were into drugs, being arseholes, didn’t respect the focus I had for police work. A lot of us like to go home, see family and have other friends. I like my friends to understand and be part of it.” As Grayling spoke, she began angrily peering down her glasses at Susan and for the first time the journalist saw the glowering intensity the detective could bring to bear. “I didn’t really have any friends till I met Sol.”
“And are you the same?” Susan asked.
Maruma was clearly thinking before he said, “friends are not something I’ve been very successful with, until I met Rebecca here.”
“He’s an acquired taste,” Grayling explained.
“Well you’re going to have to explain that!” Susan exclaimed.
“With me stood next to you both?”
Grayling laughed though. “Oh, I’ll explain. Sol is a little too into games. Everything is a game, a puzzle. This is how we’re different. Sol isn’t a detective because of any moral fire, he’s a detective because it’s the greatest puzzle in the world. He doesn’t go after justice he goes after the answers. A lot of police find that odd. Out in the civilian world, he sees all people as puzzles to be understood. Again, people find that odd. Yet, I actually like him. He’s my best mate. Only mate.”
“And you do have the moral fire?” Susan asked her.
“Oh yes. You know why I’m a detective? At school I saw people being bullied. I was bullied. I hated it, and when I left school, I thought I’d left all those arseholes behind. But what did I find in the world? Bullies. Users. Criminals. And you can’t just go beat someone with a hammer, so I became a policewoman and now I fight back.”
“Wow. That’s a cool story which in no way explains how the pair of you actually get on together.”
“Oh, I keep him pointed in the right direction,” Grayling explained. It felt like the conversation was at a point where Maruma should have replied why he liked Rebecca, but instead he just stayed quiet.
“Nice. So, what do you do on your day off? Dancing?”
“Can’t go out for the night as we need to be up Sunday morning, but Sol is leading tomorrow’s events.”
“And that is?”
Maruma grinned, his carefully tended white teeth beaming. “We are doing an Escape Room.”
“Oh cool, one hour to
get out, right?”
“Tell her the rest,” Grayling said with pride.
“Well… we are so good at escape rooms…”
“You are so good; I just provide company.”
“…that I am hired to test them out before they open.”
“Wow!” Susan replied impressed.
“To be honest, I find Escape Rooms the biggest thrill I’ve encountered outside of police work.”
Grayling replied to Sol’s confession, “yeah don’t print that Susan, looks a bit weird. The thrill,” she laughed. “Anyway, you’re welcome to come to the Escape Room and form part of the team, and then you can hang with us in the evening. We’ll just chill.”
“Right, yes please. What do you do then?”
“Take away, movie, board game, we’re thrilling.”
Susan nodded at Grayling and replied, “you’re the movie and he’s the game.”
“Exactly.”
“And you live next door to each other.”
“Now you’re making it sound weird.”
“So, what do you do on your time apart?”
“Feel free to say you miss me,” Maruma suggested.
“He designs and plays games, because of course he does. Also, tell her about your super-hero ability.”
Susan’s eyes widened, “and what is that?”
“Now you’re going to make me look weird,” Maruma protested.
“I’ve been doing that for the last five minutes. Tell her.”
“I only need four hours sleep a night.”
“Oh wow.”
“Like Margaret Thatcher,” Maruma said. “Although that’s not a good comparison, I acknowledge that.”
“So, you really…”
“He really is fully functioning on four hours. So, when I go to bed he goes to his flat and plays games for hours.”
“Xbox or Playstation?” Susan asked.
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