Jake practically jumps out of his skin when I walk into the office. He’s gathering paperwork at a speed that suggests he was hoping to vacate the place before I turned up. I suspect that, at some point between yesterday and this morning, someone, probably Holt, filled him in about me as his demeanour has shifted from wanting to please me to wanting to get the hell out of here. He offers a weak smile as he slides his paperwork into a brown satchel.
‘DI Holt has asked if you can send the forensic results to me and I can pass them on to him and the team.’
His tone has apology all over it and I’m angry Holt’s got him doing his dirty work.
‘He did what?’
But he can’t look me in the eye.
‘Just passing on the message.’ He does the clasps up on his bag, hoping the distraction will soothe his burning cheeks. ‘But there’s no urgency, obviously.’
But it’s not obvious to me. Most SIOs want everything yesterday.
‘Really? Why’s that?’
‘Haven’t you heard?’
‘Clearly not.’
He seems surprised by my answer. I’m not. I’m on the outside of this investigation. Holt made that very clear.
‘Chris Banstead has been charged with Janie Warren’s murder.’
‘Janie’s boyfriend? Are you serious?’ Jake instantly regrets sharing the news. He wants to leave, but I’m standing between him and the doorway.
‘Maybe I got that wrong.’
‘And maybe you didn’t. How can they have charged him so quickly?’ A bit of CCTV isn’t enough. Christ, the Mainwaring case should have taught Holt that much. ‘Has Banstead confessed? If he has, he should sack his brief. And what about the shoeprint?’ I wait for a response but Jake frowns, unsure of which question to answer first, so I make things easy for him. ‘What the hell is going on here?’
‘DI Holt told me to get rid of the photos.’
‘What?’ This comes out louder than I intended, startling the young man. ‘Why?’
‘He said there was no need to make life any easier for the defence team than it already is, so I deleted them.’
‘You did what? Jesus, Jake, evidence is evidence. You don’t just get rid of it because it doesn’t suit the SIO’s cosy theory.’ His colour deepens. I feel sorry for the guy. I know how hard it is to stand up to a detective of Holt’s reputation, but that’s our job. And Holt should know better. ‘Well, I’m not bloody standing for this.’
Taking the back stairs two at a time to DCI Lowe’s office, I knock and enter without waiting to be asked.
‘Steve, did you know Chris Banstead has been charged with Janie Warren’s murder?’
DCI Steven Lowe, a small man, unusually lacking in presence and charisma for a senior police officer, stares at me and then at the person standing to my right: DI Holt. His unexpected appearance throws me, but only for a second.
‘And what the hell do you think you’re doing telling my CSI to delete photos?’
‘Ally, calm down,’ says DCI Lowe, getting to his feet.
‘No, I won’t calm down. I’ve just stood by and watched a shitfest of an investigation because DI Holt decided it was a domestic killing before I’d even got there.’
Holt steps forward.
‘That’s because it is a domestic killing. Banstead is as guilty as sin.’
‘What about the shoe mark I found on the steps which you told Jake to get rid of? I told you it didn’t belong to Banstead or the woman who found Janie and it certainly isn’t a copper’s boot. It rained until midnight that night so it had to have been made after that time, the time when Janie was killed. Christ, this is basic stuff. Someone else was there on the quay. I’m sure of it.’
I’m not, of course, but I am exceptionally pissed off that Holt won’t even consider the possibility.
‘I told Jake to delete the photos because they’re not relevant and Banstead’s defence will use the shoeprint against us. Anyway, it could have been made after Banstead killed her.’
I glare at Holt.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Probably someone else found Janie but didn’t report it to the police.’ The straws aren’t even clutched on this one. They’ve long been let go. Besides, people don’t ignore bodies. ‘Perhaps they didn’t want to get involved. It happens, Ally, whether we like it or not.’
I’ve had enough. Holt isn’t the only one who can rubbish a theory.
‘This is Bidecombe, for Christ’s sake, not Soho. People love to be involved. They get off on it. Janie’s got more friends now than she ever had when she was alive.’
Lowe cuts in.
‘But it is possible.’
His quiet voice of reason winds me up even more, but I can’t ignore his point.
‘Yes, it is possible, but it’s not probable.’
‘It doesn’t matter, anyway.’ Holt’s smugness wafts over me. ‘We’ve got a witness.’
‘Someone saw Banstead kill Janie?’
‘Not quite, but as good as. A lad living above the pub on the corner of the quay sleeps with his window open, heard them arguing. Banstead was accusing her of having an affair with someone else, called her all sorts of names. The witness says he overheard Banstead saying, and I quote, “I’m going to kill you, you little bitch.”’
My anger drains away. If Holt had told me this before, I wouldn’t have burst into the office like a jealous ex. But he’s a cop. He understands the power of information and the power of withholding it. Just like in the court that day when DI Jon Stride and his cronies doctored my notebook and forged my statement. I’ve been had.
Situation diffused, Lowe sits down while I seethe in silence.
‘Ally, are you sure there’s not something else going on here?’ he asks.
Oh, sweet Jesus. I know where this is going.
‘Like what?’ I snap back at him.
‘DI Holt says there was an issue yesterday, a bit of an edge between you. That your comments weren’t helpful and were actually quite obstructive.’
Holt meets my glare, ready to bat away any counterattack. You don’t become a senior investigating officer without your Professional Investigator Practice Level Three Certificate in arse covering.
‘Funny, you didn’t say anything at the time. If I remember correctly, you told me I was the last person you wanted on the investigation. I’d say that’s pretty obstructive, wouldn’t you?’
‘You kept obsessing about this fucking shoeprint.’
‘And you kept checking your watch like your parking ticket was about to run out.’
Lowe holds a hand up.
‘That’s enough. Bob, it’s probably best if you leave this to me.’ The message is clear. Lowe believes Holt over me. As a detective chief inspector, Lowe outranks Holt and is his immediate superior, but – for all I know – they’re training-school buddies and I never stood a chance.
Lowe waits until Holt closes the door behind him. He sits down and invites me to do the same. I stay standing.
‘Look, Ally. Believe it or not, I’m on your side. I was never a member of the DI Jon Stride fan club as it happens, and you did the right thing in court. The guy was a bad apple.’
‘But?’
‘But you’re not on Major Investigations any more and you have to put it all behind you.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning leaving shitty voicemails after every job you’re sent to just because it’s not the crime of the century has to stop.’
‘That’s got nothing to do with it. I keep being sent to crappy scenes where there’s no chance of any forensics. It’s a waste of my time and police resources.’
‘Still, it’s pissing people off and, at the end of the day, I want the same result as you do.’
‘And what about Holt? He made it very clear we weren’t on the same side.’
‘You’re reading too much into this, Ally.’
‘He’s ignoring something that could be highly significant to the investigation.’
‘He’s a very experienced detective. If he says it’s a domestic and Banstead did it, that’s good enough for me.’
I ponder my options, but it takes less than five seconds to realize I don’t have any. Lowe isn’t going to take any notice of me.
‘Is that it?’
‘Yes, that’s it.’ I turn to leave, but he’s not done. ‘And I’ve had a call from the Commissioner. Someone’s trashed his car again, you need to get over there right away and sort it out. He’s got a meeting at ten.’
‘But—’
He raises his hand to head off my protests.
‘Ally, get over it or get out. The choice is yours.’
I close Lowe’s office door behind me, wanting to scream. Fuck him, and fuck those that moan about me rather than admit they can’t tell one end of a crime scene from another.
And, as for Holt, he only complained about my attitude to deflect attention from his half-arsed investigation. I’m glad he made Jake put his name on all the exhibits we took from the scene. I don’t want to be anywhere near this mess when it gets ripped to shreds in court.