The incident room was abuzz with ringing phones and the chatter of numerous officers frantically taking notes from all manner of callers. Culverhouse had noticed that public appeals tended to have two effects.
One was that the local loners and attention seekers would phone up with made up or imagined information and theories. The other was that those who had information which would actually be of some use were convinced that the case was so big and advanced that their information on that suspicious-looking car or the odd behaviour of their spouse was not worth mentioning.
Culverhouse sauntered about the room, glancing at the notepads and computer screens over the shoulders of the officers. The investigation was still fairly new, but it seemed to Wendy that Culverhouse had visibly aged; his once-crisp white shirt now hanging loosely over the top of his trousers, stray locks of hair teasing his glistening forehead.
‘Anything of note yet, Baxter?’ Culverhouse asked, speaking to the young Detective Sergeant.
‘Nothing, sir. Although I did speak to one little old lady who was convinced she actually saw Danielle Levy disappear on Friday lunchtime.’
‘What? Really?’ Culverhouse asked.
‘Yep. Sucked up by a beam of light into a waiting spacecraft, by all accounts. She even reckons the aliens left her a message not to tell anyone, but she decided to defy them anyway. Considered it her public duty to the human race in—’ Baxter consulted his notepad. ‘“Our struggle against our reptilian overlords”.’
‘I wish she bloody hadn’t,’ Culverhouse replied. ‘Have we had anything that’s actually been of any use?’
‘Not from what I'm seeing, sir. Just theories and crackpots.’
‘Right. Steve, anything on the Bob Arthurs case?’ he said, addressing DS Wing, who was cradling a mug of black coffee.
‘Nothing, guv. We seem to be at a dead end on that one. Oh, except we did have four calls asking us if Radley Stationery would still be open for business today. Seems there’s a demand for branded pencil cases at the moment.’
‘Can’t beat a bit of sympathy and patience, eh? Any callers mentioned Gary McCann at all? Be interesting to see if his name crops up in connection with anything.’
‘I don’t think so, guv. Not that I’ve heard, anyway. But the way Bob Arthurs died, his business connections with McCann and the ten grand he gave his missus — that’s got to go some way towards things. Do we have enough information for a search warrant, do you reckon?’
Culverhouse removed a sheet of folded paper from his back pocket. ‘Apparently so. Looks like I caught the Magistrate in a good mood this morning. In fact,’ Culverhouse said, glancing at his watch, ‘the forensics boys should be on their way down there now. I think I'll pop in and see how Mr McCann's getting on. I quite fancy a bit of afternoon entertainment.’
‘He'll be only too pleased to see you, guv,’ DS Wing replied, smiling.