Ten Second Staircase (45 page)

Luke had been the first to describe the Highwayman, but that didn't mean he was not lying. His testimony had been accepted for two reasons: The Highwayman logo on the Roland Plumbe Community Estate letterhead matched his description, and the pose in the sketch was similar to earlier reports of the Leicester Square Vampire and even, according to Bryant, Robin Hood. Assuming this latter point was merely coincidental, how to deal with the former? She realised that Tripp would have seen the estate logo when he visited its community hall.

So why would he have insisted he was telling the truth, even surrounded by police officers?

Because failure to do so was a more frightening prospect than admitting the lie to the authorities. He was covering up for someone who threatened him. She found Tripp's mobile number at the foot of the report and called him.

Kershaw and Banbury were able to set up their makeshift work station in the Rio Café, Inverness Street, because its owner had catered Banbury's sister's wedding. He spared them a table beside the window and all the coffee they could drink.

'This is embarrassing, being shut out of our own unit,' Kershaw complained. 'The Met boys must be killing themselves.'

'I'm not stopping now,' Banbury told him. 'We're so close. The plaster chip we found in Ramsey's flat is definitely part of the ironwork pattern at the base of her staircase. I thought perhaps it had been used to fill a crack or replace a missing piece—except there was nothing missing. Yet it matches the indentation in Ramsey's head.'

'I don't understand.'

'Impossible crime,' Banbury explained, without explaining.

'Let me get this right—she was hit with a fleur-de-lis from the staircase to make it look like she fell?'

'Exactly. I've thought of a simple way he could have pulled it off. Suppose our man broke into the flat earlier and took a mould of the pattern from the ironwork. Then all he would have to do is make a positive cast in plaster, setting it over the head of a hammer. When he hit her, it left behind an impression.'

'Which is why the witness saw her fall straight to the ground. She didn't see the blow from the hammer.'

'But he hadn't reckoned on the plaster cracking and leaving behind a clue.'

Kershaw flicked his hair from his eyes. 'Oh, that's rather good. Who needs the unit anyway? We could work here from now on. The coffee's better. There's still something very strange here, though. It feels so elaborate, don't you think? I keep asking myself why. What kind of person would go to so much trouble?'

They made a sadly bedraggled little group, huddled together in the rain as Mornington Crescent's morning traffic sloshed past them.

'What do you mean, we've been locked out?' demanded Arthur Bryant, thumping his walking stick on the puddled pavement. Rain sluiced from the brim of his shapeless brown trilby. 'It's coming down stair-rods and I can't afford to get my vest wet at my age. Open this door at once.' He rapped on it with the head of the stick.

'That's the point,' said Bimsley. 'We can't, sir. They've changed the bloody locks.'

'Sergeant Renfield is coming around to take away all our files,' Longbright added.

Bryant brightened up. 'Wait, that means he has keys.'

'Just what I was thinking.'

'He's your opposite number, Janice. He's always fancied you. This calls for subterfuge. And lipstick. And unbutton the top of your shirt.'

Longbright was appalled. 'I will do no such thing. It's pouring.'

'That's sexism, Mr Bryant,' complained Meera.

'Rubbish, it's using your feminine wiles. I would if I was a woman. I'd have no qualms about being an utter strumpet if the situation called for it.'

'Here he comes now,' warned May. 'I don't think I'll be able to bear his gloating.'

Renfield squeezed his unset bulk from the rear of the squad car and waddled over to them. 'What a miserable bunch,' he said, barely suppressing a smirk. 'I know we haven't always seen eye to eye in the past, but you can't say we didn't warn you. Home Office can only allow things to go wrong so many times before they step in to pick up the pieces.'

'You have no jurisdiction here, Renfield,' said Bryant. 'I've been meaning to ask you: Did your mother read Bram Stoker when she was pregnant?'

'What do you mean?' The sergeant fixed him with a glassy eye.

'Renfield was the obsequious fly-eating sidekick to the prince of darkness,' Bryant explained. 'How is Mr Kasavian? I do find there's something of the night about him, don't you?'

'Are you trying to be offensive, Mr Bryant?' Renfield hissed, sounding unpleasantly nocturnal. He pushed between them and brandished a bunch of keys. 'None of you is allowed inside, so don't think you'll get around me.' He spread himself fatly in front of the unit's entrance.

'Don't worry, I couldn't spare the time to circumnavigate you,' said Bryant. 'I'd lose an hour passing the international date line at the back of your belt.'

Renfield wasn't able to follow the complexity of the insult about his weight, and soldiered on. 'There's no point in standing around out here like a bunch of wet dogs,' he told them. 'You're not coming in.'

'You need an independent monitor with you,' warned Longbright. 'It's in the regulations.'

'Well, you're hardly independent, are you?'

'It can't be one of your own men, Renfield, and there's no-one else here. Mr Bryant has no filing system, but I know where everything is. It'll take you hours to collate all the material otherwise. You'll be here all day. Watch me all you want; I won't try to remove anything.'

'All right,' said Renfield reluctantly. 'But I'm not taking my eyes off you.'

Longbright winked back at her bosses as she followed Renfield inside.

'It's up to her now,' said Bryant. 'If she doesn't sabotage him, it's all over for us.' He pulled the Mini Cooper's keys from his raincoat. 'Come on, John, you and I have to get to Kingsmere first. If the Met get their paws on him, we'll never discover what's really happening.' He paused to lean against a wall, furrowing his already wrinkled brow still further.

'Are you all right?' asked May.

'I feel a bit dizzy, that's all. I think I forgot to take my pills.' He dug into his overcoat pocket and slapped two more red night tablets into his mouth. 'Let's get over to Clerkenwell and finish this.'

'But the unit's been shut down. We have no power of jurisdiction.'

'We won't need it,' Bryant replied. 'We're going to get a confession.'

45

ACCUSATION

April felt protected by the overhanging plane trees. She found Luke Tripp seated beneath the dripping bushes of St Paul's churchyard, in the shadow of the great cathedral. Hidden beneath the raised hood of his navy blue school coat, he looked tiny, pale, and miserable. 'What are you doing out here?' she asked.

Luke folded back the corner of his hood and peered at her. 'I needed to make a really big prayer, and I thought it would get there faster if I picked a big church.'

April smiled at the thought of prayers functioning like broadband messages. 'Do your parents know where you are?'

'My father's working in Dubai; my mother's in France with her new boyfriend.'

'So who's looking after you?'

'Gretchen. She's the nanny. Is Mr May really your grandfather?'

'Yes, he is.' She passed him her lidded cup of coffee. 'Do you want some? Be careful, it's hot.'

The boy took a sip and grimaced. 'He's incredibly old. Why hasn't he retired?'

'He'll probably have to now. We're not dealing with your case anymore, Luke. We couldn't find your Highwayman, so the investigation is going to the regular cops. They'll want to come and talk to you again, and I'm afraid they'll be tougher to deal with.'

'You're not police-trained, are you?' asked the boy, studying her.

'No. Is it that obvious?'

'You don't say the right things.'

'Maybe that's good. Now that I'm no longer working on the investigation, I feel like I can ask you something, just between the two of us. Last Monday in the gallery? I know you didn't really see a horse. You're a smart boy. You know it would have been completely impossible for someone to ride into the room. I believe you told a lie to protect someone, and perhaps he threatened you, perhaps you're still afraid of him.'

'I saw a horseman,' said Luke carefully.

'That's not the same thing, is it?'

'No. But I'm not afraid of anyone.'

'Then why did you lie?'

'It's more complicated than that. You wouldn't understand.'

'But you did lie. You broke the law and lied to all of us.'

'Now you sound like someone who belongs to the other side.'

'There are no sides, Luke. I just want to get to the truth.'

The boy looked up at her from beneath his hood. 'Why is the truth so important to everyone? It won't help matters. It only ever makes things worse.'

'If we don't understand who criminals are and why they commit terrible crimes, we will never be able to help them.'

'The criminal justice system doesn't have much of a reputation for helping people,' said Luke, sounding older than his years. 'People manage to sort themselves out in spite of it.'

'Then you must think of me as being outside of the system. I know you know what happened, Luke. There's no real reason why you should tell me, but a secret is hard to keep, and sharing it might make you feel better.'

The boy seemed to consider the idea for a minute, kicking his heels against the struts of the wet green bench, his face once more hidden by the hood.

'What if I did tell you something? You'd have to tell Bryant and May, wouldn't you?'

'How would you feel about that?'

'Let me make a call,' Luke said finally, hopping up and flipping open his mobile. He walked some distance away from her before speaking.

He's calling Kingsmere,
she thought.
John and Arthur should be on their way to bring him in. But I could get to the truth right now.
Digging out her own mobile, she hastily punched in a text to the detectives:
Don't confront Kingsmere until you hear from me.
She finished just as Luke Tripp turned and began walking back to her.

'I've arranged a meeting for you,' said Luke. 'It's the last thing I have to do.'

'Don't touch anything,' warned Sergeant Renfield, guiding the detective sergeant away from her bosses' open doorway. 'I know what you lot are like.'

'You act as if we're a threat to you,' Longbright pointed out. 'But we were always working on the same side.'

'I see it differently,' replied Renfield, scratching himself disconsolately. 'We're like doctors, and you're like alternative therapists. Your system is full of mumbo jumbo, and doesn't work. You got lucky a few times, that's all. We use tried and tested effective methods of policing.'

'And you kill the patient in the process. You could have worked with the unit instead of fighting us for so long.'

'What difference would it have made? We won eventually. Now, would you mind telling me where your case files on the Highwayman are?'

Longbright looked around the chaotic room. 'Only Mr Bryant keeps hard copies. Everything else is stored on the main server. You'll need the access codes. I'll put them in for you.'

'No, just write them down and I'll do it.' Renfield eyed Bryant's Tibetan skull with trepidation.

'I can't do that. Mr Banbury added a security device. The codes have to be logged at different speeds to open the file gates. He taught all senior personnel how to alter their typing technique.'
I can't believe I just made that up,
she marvelled.
It sounded almost authentic.

'Very well, but I'm watching you,' warned the sergeant, wedging himself into a chair beside her.

As she accessed the documents, she maintained a steady stream of distracting conversation, until the sergeant broke his attention to briefly glance out of the window. It was all the time she needed to add her own private e-mail address to the files.

'I want everything printed out,' the sergeant commanded.

'It will take ages to produce hard copies. We only have a very old printer. I'll queue all the relevant folders, then you can get someone to take it all to the station.'

'No, I'll wait,' said Renfield doggedly, folding his arms.

'As you wish.' Longbright rose and walked towards the door.

'And you're waiting with me.' He pointed to the seat behind her own desk. 'Just sit yourself back down.'

She sat and waited while Renfield cleaned his nails, picked his nose, examined the breakfast stains on his shirt, and scratched his bottom. Pulling open the lowest drawer of her desk with the toe of her boot, she leaned forward, making a show of adjusting her hem. She could not allow the sheet of paper containing May's confession to be bagged up and taken with the rest of the unit's contents. Kasavian would be only too happy to misinterpret it. Slowly and silently, she slid the page from its hiding place.

Suddenly, Renfield looked at her. 'I can't trust you for a minute, can I?' he sighed. 'What have you got there?'

Reluctantly, she raised the hand with the page in it, turning the blank side to face the sergeant.