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South Acton Housing Estate, West London
10:35 AM
Kate Gardener lowered her camera and gazed up at the towering façade of the apartment block. She’d seen plenty of this sort of residence when she lived in New York, with many similar “mini cities” springing up throughout the Five Boroughs. The residential demographic of said buildings appeared to be the same on either side of the Atlantic as well, at least judging by the group gathered out front. The police had allowed some to leave, young police constables taking names, addresses, phone numbers and brief statements like coffeeshop baristas during the morning caffeine rush. Those who remained – homemakers, unemployed twenty-somethings, retirees – lingered around the entrance of the building, struggling to see what was going on and hear some juicy tidbit they could jump onto their favorite social media app and pass on to the world.
Kate sensed the presence beside her, could almost feel the question building up in his mouth like a bubble ready to pop. She smiled and glanced at him. “Go ahead, Owens. Ask.”
Detective Constable Paul Owens followed Kate’s gaze up the building, a frown creasing his boyish features. “Uh, right... What are you looking at?” His thick Glaswegian accent rolled the hell out of those R’s, and Kate would have been at a loss to understand the question if she hadn’t been familiar with the accent. Thank God for BBC America, she thought.
“It’s not what I’m looking at, Owens... It’s what I’m looking for.” Kate’s eyes skimmed over the many external walkways, noting the bits and pieces of stuff that suggested who lived in each residence, what their lives were like.
“Alright, what are you looking for then?”
Kate exhaled a big whoosh of breath. “Well,” she began, pointing toward the far-left corner of the second floor of the building. “The people who live in that flat have three animals.”
Owens looked at the items sitting there... a wooden rocking chair, a rolled rug leaning against the wall... He frowned. “Three animals? How do you figure that?”
Kate smiled. “The rocking chair? There are cat nail scratches on the back. The rug? You can see the shadow of the stain on it, likely from a dog.”
“But three? How do you know there are three?”
“Window.”
“Window?”
Kate pointed to the window. “The windchime. It’s a homemade design.”
Owens squinted to see the windchime, an artsy ceramic mix of assorted garden life, and three animals... “Two cats and a dog.”
Kate nodded. “Yep.”
Owens chuckled. “That’s not what you’re looking for, though, is it?”
“No.” Kate sighed, glancing around carefully before she continued, her voice low so only he could hear her, she hoped. “I’m looking to see where the shot came from.”
Owens eyes grew big and his voice was barely understandable as he spoke low himself. “What shot?”
“The shot that killed Corbett.” Kate glanced around again. “You saw his...condition. It had to be close range, or one hell of a powerful gun. The perp that died on scene didn’t have a big gun, and if he had been close to Corbett, close enough to potentially do that to his head with a lower caliber gun, he would have been right next to Newcastle. Newcastle would not be fighting for his life in the O.R. right now. He would have been dead on scene.” Kate shook her head, lifted the camera up to her eyes and scanned the walkways again. “No, somebody picked Corbett off from up there, with one hell of a powerful gun. The question is... where was he standing when he did it?”
“A very good question, Miss Gardener.” Owens jumped slightly, a barely discernible movement, but Kate noted the change in his demeanor and posture now that “the boss” was here.
Kate turned to the speaker, his blue eyes shielded by dark glasses that, when coupled with one of the fedoras he seemed to prefer, hid Detective Superintendent Douglas Hagen’s face almost completely. Which was a shame because, for an older guy, he was good looking in that whole Jason Statham kind of way. “Morning, Hagen.”
Hagen lowered his glasses slightly, peeking over the top edge. She could see the glint in his eye, that hint of innate good humor that you simply can’t chase out of the eyes, even in the face of such a tragic event as all this. “Not a pleasant one today.” His lips were tightly pressed together as he glanced back at the main incident area. Scene-of-crime officers were still busy collecting evidence, and Chief Forensic Pathologist Diana Monaghan was occupied with the deceased perpetrator’s body. Corbett had already been transported to the mortuary, but before he had left Monaghan had had time to relay her own conclusions about what he may have been shot with, and from where... Conclusions that were quite like those of the young woman looking up at him right now.
“Well, we are looking for another shooter, then.” Hagen’s eyes roamed over the estate, taking in its rough appearance. “Paul, do we have any read on the occupants of this building? What are we dealing with?”
Owens quickly pulled out his notebook, flipping to a dog-eared page. Hagen watched his eyes quickly skimming the page... The lad was like a computer, which is likely why he and Miss Gardener worked well together when opportunity presented it. Both had an amazing memory and an instinct for people that rivaled most detectives he had ever met. Paul Owens could spot a liar a mile away, and Kate Gardener... Hagen chuckled to himself, watching the pretty young Forensic Photographer as she stared up at the building... Kate Gardener was an enigma, a gifted enigma, but an enigma nonetheless. He had a feeling that most of her investigative gifts had yet to be revealed to them.
“Sir?” Hagen turned his attention back to his young detective constable.
“Yes, Paul. Go ahead.”
“Most of the building’s residents are between the ages of twenty and fifty. There are about ten households with seniors in residence, and many of the residences have children, most under the age of twelve.” He turned a page in the notebook and skimmed quickly. “Primary ethnicities are Irish, English, and Bosnian. In fact, about half of the households in the estate are first or second generation Bosnian immigrants.”
“And this operation involved Bosnians. I recall Wilcox telling me that when he requested Rick.”
“Wilcox?” Kate chimed in.
“Calvin Wilcox, head of the Drug Squad operation that was taking place here this morning. They requested Sergeant Pierce because—“
“He speaks the languages... yeah, I know.” A small frown marred Kate’s brow, and she looked up once again at the building. She glanced over toward the taped off crime scene itself, then back at the building.
Hagen watched the young woman’s movements, knowing that if Kate was seeing something, it was best not to interrupt her. From the first case that she had handled as part of Lambeth’s Forensic Science Service, Kate Gardener had demonstrated an uncanny ability to visualize a crime scene, often seeing what wasn’t there in an almost extra-sensory sort of way. Hagen had internally scoffed at that possibility, but after working with her on two majors, and several minor cases, Hagen was convinced that she had skill beyond anything he’d seen... and it was damn reliable.
“Having a thought, Miss Gardener?”
Kate smiled slowly. “I have them frequently.” She looked again at the building, her gaze zeroing in on a pair of doors on the fifth floor. “Forensics will need to laser string it based on the angle it would have hit him... but I think the shot that killed Corbett came from up there, near the corner of the fifth floor.”
Hagen followed her gaze, nodding slowly as he took in the visual elements she so quickly processed. Forensics would, of course, need to do their due diligence and prove the theory, but it was a place to start.
“Just... tell them they should start there because... Corbett was six-two...” Kate shrugged under the gaze of the two men. “If they think I suggested it, they’ll bawk at it. Besides, his height is what tells me that’s the place anyway. For it to hit his head where it did, the shooter would have to have been at that angle.”
Hagen nodded. “Of course.”
Kate suddenly took out her sunglasses and used the corner of her NYU sweatshirt to rub them furiously. She put them on her face and looked at the building again. Hagen and Owens watched as she leaned first to one side, then to the other, her frown deepening.
“Is something wrong, Miss Gardener?”
“Not...wrong...but...” She sighed, frustrated. “There’s something shiny up there. Fifth... sorry, fourth floor, just below the shooting area.”
“Could it be part of the weapon, sir?” Owens chimed in, pocketing his notebook and pen in preparation for being sent to retrieve whatever it was.
Kate quickly put the camera up to her face, and zoomed in closer... and closer... Suddenly, she gasped, lowering the camera quickly and shoving it back into her bag even as she ran for the building entrance.
“Miss Gardener?!”
“It’s not a weapon!” Kate shouted over her shoulder as she disappeared into the entrance and started running up the stairwell. The fourth floor (which was the fifth for Americans like Kate) arrived quicker than she expected, and she ran quickly along the walkway, hoping no one had popped out to grab what she’d seen. Her mobile was ringing, doubtless Hagen or Owens trying to get an answer from her, but she needed to get to it first, have it in-hand before she could tell them what she’d found.
Breathing heavily from running and climbing, Kate was still able to breathe a sigh of relief when she arrived at her destination and found it still sitting there, the glass catching the sunlight and glinting just as it had been when she spotted the flash. She quickly grabbed an evidence bag from her pocket and used it to grab the item and stow it safely away.
Her mobile was ringing again, and Kate quickly answered it.
“Miss Gardener...” She could hear the tension in Hagen’s voice. He was a benevolent leader, to be sure, but he still liked being in charge, and she’d found that while unorthodox methods were usually overlooked, the illusion of control for him was important.
“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t risk it being taken, or kicked off the ledge and smashing to pieces on the ground down there.”
Her conciliatory response worked, and Hagen’s voice was less edgy when he replied. “Of course. What did you find?”
“Hang on, I’ll show you.”
Kate quickly hung up and scooted back down the walkway. She had an odd feeling, like someone was watching her, but all the curtains and shades were pulled as she passed them, and she made it down the stairwell and out of the building without incident. Hagen and Owens hadn’t moved from their spot, and Kate could readily tell from his body language that Hagen was fairly itching to know what she’d found.
Kate glanced around briefly, and pulled out the bag, hoping that the scene of crime officers still on the scene wouldn’t notice the reflection of sunlight bouncing off the glass.
“It’s a camera lens.” Owens frowned, his puzzlement obvious. “How is that evidence?”
Kate glanced at Hagen. She could see his wheels were turning only slightly faster than Owens’ now, so a gentle yet thorough explanation would definitely be needed.
“This type of camera lens is called a sixty-millimeter macro,” Kate began. “It’s excellent for low lighting conditions... Focuses quietly... and allows you to change focus quickly as well.” Kate looked between the two men, and seeing the flicker of comprehension, continued. “Whoever was using it was standing on the walkway directly below the shooter.”
Owens quickly turned to Hagen, his voice dropping low as he spoke. “We’re looking for a witness, sir?”
Hagen’s jaw was tight, his lips pursed. “More than that, Paul. If someone was there, and they were using this camera lens, then that means they were taking pictures of the operation.” He frowned, glancing at the crime scene before he continued. “Now, according to Calvin Wilcox, there were only three people active in this operation. Four, if you include Sergeant Pierce.”
“Um,” Kate chimed in. “What was the point of this drug operation thing anyway?”
“Marshall had been in contact with these particular blokes before,” Hagen replied. “And Newcastle and Corbett were being brought in as potential new business contacts. It was only meant to be a meet and greet situation. They wanted Pierce along for the ride so he could listen to their exchanges. He and Newcastle served in the Balkans together, and Newcastle was adamant to Wilcox that he wanted him along... Said he didn’t want any dialectical misinterpretations occurring.”
“Well,” Kate began, slowly turning the bagged camera lens in her hand as she spoke. “Whoever was using this wasn’t here bird watching. This little operation was being documented... by someone...”
Hagen’s mobile began ringing, and he stepped away a couple of feet from them to take the call.
“The question is...who?” Owens frowned. “Do you think someone from Drug Squad or even Forensics was out there...?”
“Someone with a bent badge, you mean?” Kate shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think we’re looking for a private citizen. Someone who doesn’t live in this building. Someone who was asked to be here at the last minute because of a special skill, and didn’t have time to scout the location first... I mean, they would have chosen the higher spot if they’d had a chance to scope it out. It’s clearly the better place for a clear shot, hence why the shooter used it.”
Hagen hung up the mobile, his face somber as he returned to their small group. “Pierce,” he said in response to their questioning looks. “Newcastle survived the surgery, but they were unable to control the bleeding. So... we have two police officers dead, one still in hospital...” His gaze shifted to the camera lens. “And a witness to find.”