Gavin bit back a yawn and held a borrowed and chipped ceramic mug under the vending machine nozzle as a viscous black liquid spurted out.
It smelled like coffee, but he had already worked out that at least three sugar sachets were required to make it taste anything like the real thing.
He wasn’t even sure it contained caffeine, and wondered if any placebo effect was starting to wear off.
Moving across to an empty table, he brushed crumbs from its laminated surface with a napkin and sank into one of the aluminium chairs with his back to the wall of the break area.
The plasterwork had been painted a plain cream colour and noticeboards were fixed to it in several places around the room.
He automatically ran his eyes over the posters and other documents, but there was nothing new. Instead, he turned his attention to the small television bolted to the wall in the corner, the sound turned down. Subtitles ran across the bottom of the screen, the captioning struggling to keep up with the two daytime television presenters perched on a sofa, bright white teeth gleaming.
‘Late night?’
He blinked, jerking his attention away from the latest gossip about a pop singer he’d never heard of.
DC Paul Solomon stood next to one of the spare chairs, his face as weary as Gavin felt.
The detective had helped the Maidstone team with some information during a drugs investigation a year ago, and had impressed everyone with his knowledge of the local smuggling operations that were being slowly disbanded.
He pushed back his chair, held out his hand to the other man, and gestured to the vending machine.
‘Paul, good to see you. Can I get you a coffee?’
‘Not likely. It’s only visitors who drink that stuff.’ A friendly smile followed his words. ‘Okay if I join you?’
‘Sure.’
‘I didn’t realise you were here until I overheard Sharp talking to my DI. Are you working on the shooting case?’
Gavin nodded. ‘The search and arrest part of it. Kay’s managing the victim side of things from Maidstone.’
‘Any news there?’
‘Nothing yet. The post mortem was this morning though, so hopefully…’
‘Yeah. I heard there wasn’t much left of his face.’ Paul wrinkled his nose. ‘Poor bastard. Rumour around here is that he was trying to run away, too.’
‘Looks like it. What’re you working on these days?’
‘We’ve got a sex crimes gang along the north coast we’re about to break. Bringing in girls from the continent, then selling them.’
Gavin pushed away his coffee. ‘I don’t know how you do that every day. We had a case like that a few years ago, and I’ll never forget some of the stuff we saw.’
‘Someone has to, right?’ Paul paused as a pair of uniformed constables walked in, radios turned down enough to hear the next call-out without interrupting conversations. ‘How’re you finding your way around here? Settling in okay?’
‘Yes, thanks.’ Gavin exhaled. ‘I didn’t realise how big the place was. Compared to Maidstone, I mean.’
‘It’s filled up quickly, especially after they closed Sutton Road. Are you enjoying being in the middle of a major investigation?’
‘Always. I mean I know we have a victim, and a family who’ve lost a loved one, but this is what it’s all about isn’t it? Getting into the thick of it, using all the resources we have.’
‘True.’ Glancing over his shoulder at the sound of someone calling his name, Paul gave a rueful grin. ‘Looks like I’m wanted. Listen, any time you fancy moving over here permanently, let me know. We could always do with good people in major crimes, and I reckon you’d fit right in.’
‘Thanks, mate. I’ll bear that in mind.’
Gavin watched as the other detective wandered off to join a woman in a black suit who waited by the door for him, and then both rushed off to wherever they’d been summoned.
Paul’s words echoed in his mind.
He’d already been hearing from others on the search and arrest team about the numerous roles available here in Northfleet, and he couldn’t ignore the fact that by comparison Maidstone was rather like a satellite of headquarters these days.
Was that why Sharp had volunteered him for this role?
Was he testing his abilities?
‘Piper?’
Sharp’s voice carried over the heads of the assembled officers, and Gavin saw him beckoning.
He pushed back his chair, threw the leftover coffee into a nearby bin without a second glance, and hurried to join the DCI.
‘Guv?’
‘We’ve had some new CCTV footage come in from one of the local teams,’ Sharp said as he led the way back to the incident room. ‘It’s from a private residence half a mile from the White Hart. Apparently the owners got home from Bruges late last night and only heard about the shooting this morning. They got in touch and provided a copy of all the recordings from the past week.’
He paused, shoved open the incident room door and then strode across to the spare desk Gavin was using. ‘Given we’ve had no luck from businesses along any of the major routes, we need to refocus our search on the immediate vicinity.’
‘No problem, guv.’ Gavin pulled his chair closer to the desk and logged in. ‘I’ll do a preliminary review of the recording from Wednesday night, and if I don’t spot anything there, I’ll work backwards a day at a time in case either the victim or the shooter recce’d the White Hart first. It won’t be easy but at least we know what the victim was wearing and a rough description of what his killer was wearing too.’
‘Good man. I always said to Kay you’d go far.’ Sharp reached out and slapped his shoulder. ‘This case is going to test everything you’ve learned so far, Piper, but trust me – it’ll be worth it.’
‘Thanks, guv.’