‘It’s good of you to meet me,’ said Luke, eyeing her with a hint of curiosity. ‘Usually we just do this by email.’
Flyte had chosen a backstreet cafe for her meeting with Luke Lawless – the aptly named crime reporter of the Camden Gazette. She didn’t want anyone in the office earwigging on a telephone call, because although she had a legitimate reason to talk to him about the Hugger Mugger suspect she also wanted to tack on a request regarding Green-Eyes.
‘I’m out and about a lot at the moment, interviewing witnesses and tracking down CCTV so this was the best way to talk properly,’ she lied smoothly. ‘And I know you guys don’t have a local office anymore.’
Luke shrugged regretfully. ‘True. I work from home mostly – just as well now the regional office is in Enfield.’
‘And you cover Camden and Kentish Town?’
‘I wish. I cover everything from Finchley over to Finsbury Park, and Kentish Town down to Regent’s Park. One crime reporter for three local papers, all of them covering crime hotspots.’
‘That’s a pretty huge beat, right?’ Having only lived in London just over a year her mental map of its boroughs was still patchy.
‘Yep. It means I get most of my stories from press releases. The older journos never tire of telling me that back in the day they were out on the streets, following up stories, interviewing witnesses – you know, proper investigative stuff.’ He sounded exercised about it, regretful that the job had changed.
Flyte nodded, trying to look sympathetic. Truthfully, the last thing the police needed was some frustrated hack trampling all over an investigation in his size nines. Luke couldn’t be much older than thirty but he was dressed like an old-school PI – sand-coloured trench coat over a rumpled button-down shirt and narrow tie. He was probably aiming for Philip Marlowe as played by Bogart, but with his weedy build and hair that needed a cut the overall impression was more early Columbo.
‘So, this Hugger Mugger is now a murder inquiry?’ Luke adopted a professional frown but shifted in his chair, clearly thrilled to be covering a juicy non-domestic murder case. Flyte didn’t approve of the nickname but it was inevitable and it would help raise the profile of the story.
‘Not yet. But doctors believe the victim, Harry Poppleton, has no chance of meaningful recovery so life support will probably be withdrawn once the family give the go-ahead. As it stands we’re looking at an attempted murder.’
‘And I can use that?’ His pen poised over his tan-coloured Moleskine notebook – another PI prop.
She nodded; Harry’s mother and father had agreed to release the medical details in the hope of getting witnesses to come forward.
‘I’ve sourced the best still from the CCTV to help us ID the suspect.’ She showed him the image on her phone. ‘Obviously, we’ve pixellated Harry’s face.’
He squinted at it, clearly fascinated. ‘Not much to go on facially, is it? But the perp is a big guy. Over six foot? Unless the vic was really short?’ Luke was clearly loving the chance to use jargon he’d picked up from true-crime box sets.
‘No, I checked. Harry was five foot nine so we calculate the attacker to be at least six two’ – remembering Steadman’s and Willets’ unscientific yet effective demonstration.
‘Who’s the IO?’
Aka investigating officer.
‘DS Dean Willets. And the SIO is acting DCI Mike Steadman.’
He made a note. ‘So any promising leads?’
‘It’s early days. There are calls coming into the incident room – thanks for getting the number up online so quickly. A few people saw Harry stagger out of the Underworld club in the direction of Middle Yard but we’ve yet to find any eyewitnesses who saw the mugger. If we can trace his movements it might give us better CCTV of him from elsewhere in the area.’
They agreed a wording for the appeal for witnesses and the level of detail Luke could put in the story. He grinned at her. ‘I can have it online by this evening and in the next print edition. We are getting this ahead of the nationals, right?’
Flyte put her head on one side and pulled a little frown. ‘Well, strictly speaking we can’t play favourites like that. I know the press office would like to get it out to everyone as soon as possible.’
‘But as the local paper we’re the ones who can deliver witnesses.’ A hint of the steel that any journalist needed surfacing in his voice.
‘I agree. What you offer as a local paper isn’t just news but a valuable public service. In fact, I also need your help identifying a body . . .’ She showed him the artist’s image of Green-Eyes based on the photos she’d taken of the body.
After a few minutes of horse trading, Flyte had extracted a promise that the pic, plus description and details of what he was wearing, would get a prominent spot in the online and print editions appealing for information. ‘The unidentified male is being dealt with by Camden CID,’ she told him. ‘But if you get anything, update me direct on my mobile and I’ll pass it along, OK?’
‘Nothing fishy about it?’ he asked hopefully.
‘No, not at all. A straight drowning according to the pathologist. He was probably inebriated – we’ll know when the tox report comes back.’
Flyte thought she’d been convincingly casual about it but as they got up to leave she caught Luke’s sideways look and cursed inwardly. The wannabe private eye had scented her interest in the case.