‘For me,’ Kim is saying thoughtfully, ‘it would have to be tuna pasta bake with back-to-back Place in the Sun.’
Davy is just about to put in his two pennies’ worth, which involves crackers and cheese and Quincy, but Harriet has shot everyone a look which says: Shut your fucking gobs, the boss is here.
DCS Gary Stanton has a collection of important-looking files under one arm and his buttons are straining over his stomach. Time to size up on the shirt front, Davy thinks.
The whole team is gathered around a circular table, which is part of a new stratagem brought back from the States by Stanton, when he went to NYPD on a skills swap residential last autumn. For Davy, things got much more confusing after the residential, because Stanton returned armed with incomprehensible management-speak. Davy’s all for a spot of police jargon, which clarifies the lines drawn between good and evil (only last night he watched a DCI on the news outside the Old Bailey telling how they’d ‘exposed the villain’s web of wicked lies’). But this corporate mumbo jumbo – it didn’t clarify; it did the opposite, scribbling over itself in loops and meanderings. It started with just having to ‘action’ things, instead of do them; then Stanton wanted to ‘sunset that line of investigation’, which seemed to mean not do it any more. They had moved from ‘breaking’ an alibi to ‘putting it on the radiator to see if it melts’. But then Stanton started talking about ‘shifting the paradigm’ in order to ‘leverage our synergies’, and that’s where he lost Davy altogether. At one point, Davy had felt quite worried about keeping up in the department, but then he overheard Harriet hissing at Manon, ‘What the fuck’s he talking about?’ and felt better.
Edith Hind has been missing for two weeks and the press have more or less shuffled off. But that’s about to change with the Crimewatch appeal, especially if what everyone is saying is true. Stanton is about to let the proverbial cat out of the bag (his words), and they’d better all be ready.
‘Right,’ Stanton says, sounding a bit out of puff. Perhaps he’s just walked up the stairs from the press office. ‘Crimewatch. There will obviously be a massive upscaling of media interest and we can expect to be inundated with calls from the public—’ Colin groans loudly – ‘which we need to take seriously,’ says Stanton. ‘Lot of powder, so expect some avalanches. We don’t know which sighting might be significant at this point, so I want nothing dismissed, please. I don’t care how left-field they sound. I will also be raising the issue of Edith’s love life in the appeal and the fact that she had male and female lovers. The purpose of this is not to supply fodder for the tabloids, but to flush out Edith’s previous lovers, be they secret or in the past.’
Everyone around the table is silent. Everyone is thinking the same thing: it will incense Sir Ian Hind, who will be straight on the phone to Roger Galloway, who will be straight on the phone to Cambridgeshire Commissioner, Sir Brian Peabody, who will be straight on the phone to Gary Stanton.
‘I can handle it,’ he says mildly, as if reading their thoughts. ‘I’ve got to run this investigation with the same instincts I’d run any other, and that’s with the view that she’s come to harm and that a lover or sexual liaison of some kind is at the heart of her disappearance.’
‘Won’t mentioning a female lover make things hysterical?’ asks Manon.
‘Unavoidable,’ says Stanton. ‘You pour milk on the step, see who laps it up.’
‘Sorry, what?’ says Harriet.
‘We need people to come forward,’ says Stanton. ‘And to be honest, we need Edith back in the public mind.’
‘Even if it’s naked and engaging in some girl-on-girl action,’ says Colin, with an inadvertent after-snort.
‘Shouldn’t we risk-assess Helena Reed then?’ says Manon. ‘Her world will come crashing down when you go on telly and talk about a female lover. I’d say she wasn’t the toughest person to start with.’
‘Yes, we certainly need to warn her. Kim, I’d like you to go round there, talk her through the whole thing. Tell her Crimewatch is going out on Wednesday night, reassure her we’re not naming anyone, but offer her support if she needs it. She can have a liaison officer with her in her flat.’
Kim nods.
‘Can we please have an update on the Taylor Dent investigation, Harriet?’ says Stanton.
‘Right,’ says Harriet, with a deep sigh. ‘No DNA at Deeping or George Street. No phone contact, as far as we know but, of course, Dent might have had an additional phone or phones we don’t currently know about. Met’s looking into that one, and of course we’re cross-referencing with unknown-515 – the mobile Edith called twice in the week before she disappeared.’
‘What about the Dent family?’ says Stanton. ‘Anything come up?’
‘Younger brother, Fly,’ Manon says, ‘reported Taylor missing on Monday twelfth of December after school, so a week before Edith’s disappearance. Taylor hadn’t come home the night before. Went out, on some deal or other from the sounds of it. Before he left, he told his brother things were going to change, which indicates that he was going to make some money. Sounded quite pumped about it. Anyway, younger brother woke up on Monday, no Taylor in the bed next to him, got really worried but wanted to wait to see if he showed during the day. Then reported him missing, but the Met basically told him to go away and stop worrying because Taylor was seventeen and old enough to look after himself.’
‘In other words, he wasn’t worth investigating,’ says Davy, thinking of Ryan.
‘Kilburn CID have got officers working their way through Dent’s associates, but to be honest, they’re not that easy to pin down,’ Manon says.
‘Dent isn’t coming up on any rail CCTV out of London. Looks like he must’ve got here in a car,’ says Kim.
‘OK,’ says Stanton, hands flat on the desk as if steadying himself. ‘If there are no firm connections emerging between Dent and Hind, and we can’t establish ownership of unknown-515, then I’m going to have to hand the Dent murder investigation on to team two. We just don’t have the resources to run the two cases out of one team,’ says Stanton.
‘But,’ Manon blurts, and Davy looks at her. She’s shifting in her seat, saying, ‘We might find … later, I mean …’ but she trails off.
‘Last thing, people,’ Stanton is saying. ‘Forensic Management Team meeting.’ Groans erupt around the room. Money talk – the FMT meetings balance investigative needs against budget. Tighten your belts, in other words. ‘We’ve been informed that we are overspending on the Hind investigation and that we should rein it in. To that end, Nigel Williams and Nick Briggs are being seconded to team two, to help on the Dent murder, while the scaled-down team continues to work on Hind.’
‘Sorry, boss,’ says Harriet, ‘but you’re cutting our team the night before Crimewatch goes out and buries us in a steaming pile of false leads?’
‘That’d be about the size of it,’ he says, up from his seat, the folders back under his arm. ‘This is the age of austerity, DI Harper. Haven’t you heard?’
‘Toast with anchovies,’ Colin is saying to Kim, as the room breaks up. ‘’Cept the oil always drips down your chin, which can greatly mar the enjoyment of Columbo.’