Grav glanced at his reflection in the operation room’s large picture window and made one last ham-fisted adjustment to his frayed but much loved Carmarthen rugby club necktie. He was a man notorious for his fashion sense, or rather the lack of it, and that fact didn’t bother him in the slightest. He’d never been a looker, as he’d often told his wife in times gone by. But he was comfortable in his own skin, creases and all. And there was nothing wrong with that. ‘How am I looking, Sergeant? Will I do for the cameras?’
She pushed her paperwork aside, looked up, smiled, and tried to sound as sincere as possible. ‘Very smart, boss.’
He looked her in the eye and laughed. ‘Yeah, yeah, don’t go overdoing it now. I don’t think I’ve ever looked very smart in my life. My missus used to tell me that all the time. Passable maybe, if duty calls, but that’s about it. Have you got a comb I can borrow? We’ve only got about twenty minutes before kick-off.’
She reached into her leather handbag and handed him a plastic hairbrush without the need for words.
‘Thanks, love. How did it go this morning?’
‘With the Griffiths family?’
He ran the brush through his short scanty salt-and-pepper hair, and handed it back almost immediately. ‘Well, yeah, that’s where you’ve been, isn’t it?’
She peeked down and spotted two grey hairs contrasting against the black plastic bristles. ‘I called early before school. She asked a neighbour to come in to watch the kids while we talked in the kitchen over a cup of tea.’
‘And?’
‘She was well pleased with the news. Not quite doing cartwheels, but not far off. She’s thinking about going back to London if she can find anywhere she can actually afford to live. She says it’s the only place she feels at home.’
‘Has she got any sort of support network?’
‘She’s got an older sister who she thinks is probably still living in the city somewhere, but she hasn’t seen her for years. Griffiths prevented her trying to contact her when he was alive, but she’s planning to get back in touch if she can track her down.’
‘Makes sense.’
‘Yeah, I think she’ll make the move just as soon as she can. Maybe some kind of house swop if the housing association can arrange it.’
‘She’s not planning a funeral then? She’d only need a small coffin unless we find the rest of him.’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t see it happening. She wants to forget him as best she can, and move on with her life with the kids.’
He checked his watch for the third time in less than half an hour and pointed towards the kettle. ‘And who can blame her? Mine’s a coffee, if you’re making one. You know how I like it.’
The DS spooned instant coffee into two mugs, added a splash of cold milk to both, and finally sugar, one level for herself and five heaped for her boss. ‘She’d been giving the situation more thought. That nonce she mentioned her husband meeting. She thinks his name’s Peter. She recalls Griffiths crashing out of the house late one night a few weeks back when he was seriously pissed, and saying he was walking over to Peter’s place for some decent company.’
‘How sure was she of the name?’
‘She reckoned eighty per cent plus.’
‘No surname?’
‘Nope. I tried to push her, but she couldn’t come up with anything. I’m certain she wasn’t trying to be obstructive.’
‘Have a chat with Jane and put her in the picture. If there’s a known or suspected nonce who goes by that name living in the area, she’ll know about him for sure.’
She poured the boiling water, stirred, and handed him his mug with a smile. ‘There you go, boss. You can stand your spoon up in it if you try hard enough.’
‘Thanks, love, it’s appreciated.’
‘I gave the child protection unit a call from the car as it happens. Jane was out, but the DS in charge thinks she knows who Lucy’s talking about. There’s a Peter Harrington with an indecent assault conviction living not twenty minutes’ walk away from the Griffiths’ house. The boy was eight at the time of the offence. Harrington was volunteering in a local church youth club.’
‘Okay, that’s useful to know. I might well pay him a surprise visit myself. Let’s see what he can tell us with a bit of gentle encouragement.’