‘Now that is interesting. It’s a white gold oval pendant ringed with diamonds. She always wears it, apparently. The pendant has a religious image on it – a picture of the Virgin Mary, I’m told. It’s double-sided; the back is set with twelve diamonds and has an M surmounted with a cross engraved on it. It’s a traditional piece of jewellery for Roman Catholics but this particular pendant is unique. It was made for her, a gift to mark her confirmation.’
I stifled a snort. What DCI Redmond had described was a blinged-up version of a Miraculous Medal, as worn by pious Catholics the world over. I had had one myself when I was in school, but mine had been plain silver, modest and discreet, as they tended to be. All that could be said for Cheyenne’s version was that it sounded distinctive.
Godley took over. ‘I’ll be allocating tasks to those of you who are free to work on this operation. Some of it will be file sifting, I’m afraid, but I also want to re-interview family and friends, plus our potential witnesses, and take a look at the warehouse. It’s no reflection on the work done already.’ He glanced at Marla Redmond, who was looking pink. It couldn’t be pleasant to have a senior officer take over your case just when you were out of ideas and resources. She would be feeling the pressure. I hoped like hell I never ended up in a similar position. ‘I want anyone who’s available to give your names to DI Derwent, please. Some of you will be going over to Brixton to work with DCI Redmond’s team. Please bear in mind that DCI Redmond is the lead investigator in this case and take your direction from her.’
‘What about Skinner?’ Belcott asked.
‘We’re going to interview him shortly. He’s been nicked for the three murders that DI Derwent was investigating.’ Godley scanned the room until his gaze fell on me. ‘Maeve, you can sit in.’
I was surprised to be singled out and not a little embarrassed, especially since Belcott was glaring at me with the full force of his considerable capacity for resentment. On the other hand, it was an opportunity not to be missed. And it wasn’t as if I hadn’t worked for it. I had seen far too much of John Skinner’s work over the previous few days not to want to look him in the eye when he explained himself.
The silence in the room was beginning to fragment around the edges, as various muttered conversations started up. Marla Redmond turned to Godley, who bent his head to listen to her. He was nodding courteously as she spoke, but I had a feeling that he had moved on already. The next challenge for him was dealing with John Skinner without letting him get the advantage as he had the previous day. Godley would be determined not to give in to his emotions this time, but it was easier said than done, and the muscle that flickered in his jaw told me he was on edge.
‘Well, that worked out nicely,’ Liv said. ‘You getting to sit in on the interview, I mean.’
I grinned. ‘Just think, I could be stuck reading the files on him.’
‘Don’t. You know that’s what I’m going to end up doing.’
‘At least with Skinner they make interesting reading,’ I offered, but she rolled her eyes, then got up and went to join the queue in front of Derwent. It looked as if he was going to be there for a while, taking names and allocating duties. I would let him take the lead on discussing Forgrave with the boss, I decided. Jumping in ahead of him would make me exceedingly unpopular, I had no doubt.
Outside the meeting room I waited diffidently while Godley said goodbye to DCI Redmond. I didn’t want to move too far away in case I missed my chance to go to the interview room with him and Derwent, but I didn’t want to listen in on his conversation either. I became aware that someone was standing behind me, leaning against the wall, and turned to find myself altogether too close to Peter Belcott.
‘What do you want?’
‘I want to know why Godley’s so keen on you.’ He spoke softly and I felt his breath on my face, warm and stale even at that hour of the morning. I turned away a little, repulsed. ‘What’s going on, Maeve? Do you suck him off? Is that it? Give a little head to get ahead?’
‘For fuck’s sake, of course not.’
‘Strange how you always seem to be the one who gets the good jobs, isn’t it?’
‘Who else wanted to work on the dead paedophiles, Peter? You? I don’t remember a great deal of enthusiasm. It was a shit job and it turned out to be more exciting than anyone expected.’ I shrugged. ‘What can I tell you? Maybe I’m just lucky.’
‘I don’t believe in luck.’
‘Stop looking for a conspiracy. There isn’t one.’ I spoke flatly, knowing that Belcott was quite capable of spreading the rumour that I was involved with Godley, and that my colleagues would be delighted to believe it.
He stepped even closer, his voice so low that only I could hear it. ‘I just want you to know that you’re only here to fulfil the diversity criteria. Godley probably wants you in the room so you can distract Skinner by flashing your tits at him.’
‘Get a hobby, Peter. And leave me alone.’ I made myself sound unconcerned although my flesh was crawling. I was loath to admit it, even to myself, but Belcott had a knack of speaking to my deepest fears – that I was only included in the team as a makeweight, that whatever interest anyone senior showed in my career was motivated by something baser than the desire to encourage a promising young officer. And it didn’t help that just this morning Derwent had used me for exactly the purpose Belcott had mentioned. I would be seriously deluded if I thought that of Godley, however.
‘Is everything okay?’ Rob, pausing beside us, his eyebrows raised.
‘Never better, mate.’ Belcott slipped past me and I nodded at Rob to tell him that it was all right, nothing for him to worry about, nothing to see here, move along. He didn’t look totally convinced but he walked away, holding the door open for DCI Redmond and following her out. Godley had made a good choice. Rob could be trusted to liaise with the local CID without ruffling anyone’s feathers, which was more than could be said for some of the team.
Godley turned and saw me. ‘Maeve, good. We’ll go down to the interview rooms and get things set up. When Josh is finished here, he can collect John Skinner for us.’
‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ I asked tentatively, but I was genuinely concerned.
Godley looked surprised, turning to look at me as he went through the door and headed for the stairs. ‘Why?’
‘Yesterday, before you arrived at William Forgrave’s flat, DI Derwent was pretty hostile towards Mr Skinner.’ I shrank from telling Godley the specifics, but I was fairly sure he knew what I was implying.
‘Don’t worry about Josh. He’s a total professional. He behaved a lot better than I did yesterday.’
I shook my head. ‘That was different. You were provoked. He was just aggressive from the get-go.’
‘He’s that sort of person. That’s one reason why I keep him around.’ Godley grinned and I caught a glimpse of the rule-bending copper he had once been. ‘Besides, I think John Skinner might benefit from a bit of a chat that’s not in the presence of his legal representatives, don’t you?’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I said sedately and he laughed.
‘Keep it that way. Josh could be a very bad influence on you. Stick to doing things by the book.’
I followed him down the stairs, not sure whether to be pleased or not. I wasn’t one of those officers who had joined the police because it was the biggest gang around; I genuinely wanted to do the right thing, the right way. And I had thought Godley was the same – that he was faithful to the fairness that was supposed to underpin our work. I was getting a not-wholly welcome insight into what really motivated him. I wasn’t sure I liked it.
What I really didn’t like, though, was being told that rule breaking wasn’t for me. It was one thing for me to decide to stay on the straight and narrow, and another for Godley to tell me to mind my own business. There was a hint of condescension in it that I recognised from Derwent’s more strident put-downs and I wondered exactly how much he had been able to influence Godley since he had joined the team. I had always thought Godley was the sort of person who knew his own mind and couldn’t be swayed by anyone else’s opinion, but he had been under intense pressure recently, and it looked to me as if Derwent had taken advantage of that.
All in all, I was in a thoughtful mood as we arranged the chairs in the interview room; two for Skinner and his legal representative and two for Derwent and Godley across the table. My place was by the door, which I didn’t mind at all. I didn’t want to catch Skinner’s eye.
As soon as we had set up, Godley despatched me to retrieve Skinner’s solicitor from reception. As it happened, he was the only person waiting there, which was fortunate because he was not what I was expecting. He was much younger, for starters – mid-thirties, I estimated. He was balding but kept his hair short to make up for it, and his features were pleasantly hawkish. Two other things completely wrong-footed me: the hole pierced in one ear, and the fact that he had been whiling away the time by playing Angry Birds on his iPhone. It just seemed altogether too human.
‘Mark Whittaker.’ He jumped up and held out his hand. I introduced myself, noticing the extremely expensive dark suit that fitted him to perfection, the crisp white shirt, the silk tie and gold cufflinks. Clearly, representing John Skinner was a rewarding business.
‘How’s John this morning?’ Mark had an Essex twang and the cheeky chappy charm to go with it. Again, definitely not what I had been expecting.
‘I don’t know, I’m afraid. I haven’t seen him since yesterday.’
‘We had a long day.’ He sounded pretty relaxed given that his client had been charged with murder, among other things. ‘I bet he slept well. I didn’t. Too much to do.’
‘Have you represented him for long?’
‘About ten years.’ He must have seen me looking surprised because he grinned. ‘He’s a friend of the family.’
‘Nice friend.’
‘John’s all right.’
I had three murder victims who would disagree with that but there was no point in arguing.
‘I don’t mean to be nosy, but what happened to you? Car accident, was it?’
‘I tripped.’
He whistled soundlessly. ‘Looks nasty. You should have taken some time off work.’
‘And miss this? I don’t think so.’
I pushed open the door and ushered him in. Godley had obviously met him before and the two of them made polite conversation while we waited for Derwent. It was all pleasant enough but I sensed a slight reserve in Godley and recognised that Whittaker’s easy manner might not be the whole story. Friend of the family or not, Skinner would want a lawyer who was as tough as he was himself.
A prisoner as important as Skinner should have been moved around the nick with an escort of officers, but Derwent was alone when he came in with Skinner. He had him cuffed, though, and was walking close behind him with one hand on the bar between his wrists. Only I could see what he was doing, holding it up a couple of inches higher than what would be comfortable for Skinner. It was an easy way to ensure compliance and intimidate the subject, and Skinner’s shoulders were rigid with tension. I wondered what Derwent had said to him while he was unobserved – and what else he had done. He unlocked the cuffs and took them off, slipping them into his pocket as Skinner rubbed his wrists, then skirted the table to join Godley.
Without much enthusiasm, Skinner greeted his solicitor, then glared at Godley. ‘It’s you this time, is it?’
‘Sit down, Mr Skinner.’
‘What are you doing to find my daughter?’ Skinner’s face was pale beneath his tan and from the bags under his eyes it seemed that he had passed an uncomfortable night. His nose was swollen and his jaw looked puffy on one side where the superintendent had punched him.
‘It’s in hand.’ Godley’s face was like stone. He pointed at the chair. ‘Please. Sit.’
He stayed where he was. ‘I’m her father. You need to tell me what’s going on. Have you found her? Has anyone heard from her?’
Mark Whittaker stood too and put a hand on his arm. ‘John, take a seat. Let’s get through the formalities first and then talk.’
‘Do you know something?’ He stared at his solicitor, then back at Godley, and he looked as frantic as any worried parent I’d ever seen despite his hard-man reputation. ‘What have you found out?’
‘Nothing at all.’ Godley sounded more compassionate this time. ‘I promise you, I will tell you as soon as we know more. You’re under arrest for murder, Mr Skinner. That takes precedence at the moment. But we’re talking to Gayle and going over the case in detail. If there’s something that’s been missed, we will find it.’
‘They haven’t been trying.’ Skinner swallowed. ‘You know they’ve been fucking it up.’
‘Sit down, Mr Skinner,’ Godley said again, with much the same effect.
Derwent had had enough. He stood up and strode around the table, grabbing the back of Skinner’s chair and shoving it against him so his knees buckled. ‘You know the rules, John. Cooperate.’
I might have expected Mark Whittaker to be outraged, but he didn’t look it. He muttered something in his client’s ear, and Skinner capitulated, and sat down. Godley nodded to Derwent to start the tape, then ran through the usual caution.
‘We’re here to ask you about three murders that were committed in the last week in the Brixton area, and an incident yesterday involving a fourth man. You’ve also been arrested for GBH and false imprisonment in relation to him.’
Skinner shrugged, unmoved. ‘You know I did it. I’m going to plead guilty. Can we speed this up?’
It wasn’t truly surprising that Skinner intended to plead guilty when he had been caught red-handed, but I was still unsettled by how matter-of-fact he sounded. He had to know that even if he had a sympathetic judge impressed by moving mitigation about his daughter’s disappearance, he was looking at a whole-life tariff. There weren’t many criminals who took that lightly, even if they were no stranger to prison.
‘Mr Skinner, why are you in the UK? You live in Spain now, don’t you?’
‘You know the answer to this, Godley. My little girl’s missing. I came back to find her.’
‘How did you intend to do that?’
‘By finding out who took her.’