Peter James - Dead at First Sight

‘What might Tooth be doing at that building?’

‘Waiting for someone to come out? Or inside it?’

‘So who’s in there that’s so interesting to him?’ Branson asked.

‘The same person he’d gone along to see in Withdean Road before a marked car spooked him? The smart money’s on a tall Ghanaian with shiny red shoes.’

‘Yep.’

‘I’ll get a surveillance team in place. We also need some fast research on the building. There’s bound to be a caretaker or concierge in a block of flats that large. Have someone get hold of them, and first thing check the CCTV to see if it is Tooth and in which direction he might have gone. See if they’ve noticed anyone of Copeland’s description. Also find out who the managing agents are and whether they’ve let any of the flats to someone of his description — that will probably have to wait until office hours tomorrow. Likewise, in the morning, if nothing has changed, see what we can find out from the Council’s relevant databases. In the meantime, check the electoral roll.’

‘What about sending a couple of plain-clothes in to start doing door-to-door?’ Branson suggested.

‘I’m concerned that Copeland could be armed, as well as Tooth. We’ve seen what his colleague did. I don’t want to put any of our team in unnecessary danger. Let’s see what the caretaker comes up with first and then take a view.’

As Branson returned to his own workstation, Grace called the duty Gold and Silver Commanders and updated them.

They discussed a plan. When they had agreed it, together with the authority to continue deployment of armed officers, Grace stood up and called for the attention of everyone in the room. At that moment, Cassian Pewe phoned him.

‘Roy,’ said a very irate-sounding ACC. ‘What part of my email asking for an urgent update did you not understand? I expect to be kept informed, otherwise you make me look a bloody idiot to the Chief. The minimal feedback I keep getting from you lacks all granularity.’

Roy decided to give him back as good as he could muster, having recently trawled the internet himself for management gobbledygook with which to retaliate. Childish, he knew, but it gave him pleasure. ‘With respect, sir,’ he said, ‘I appreciate you like to take the helicopter view. From forty thousand feet it may look one way, but it’s very different down here in the weeds.’

For a brief while it seemed as if Pewe was stumped for a reply. ‘What weeds are you talking about?’

‘Sir, I’m in the middle of a fast-time situation, may I get back to you in a while?’

‘Only if you have anything intelligible to say.’ The phone went dead.

Grace concentrated back on his task. ‘OK, for the benefit of all the team including new members, I’m going to provide a detailed update, so everyone knows where we are with the investigation. This is what we have so far on Operation Lisbon, the investigation into the murder of Suzy Driver, linked to the murder of her sister, Lena Welch, in Munich, and linked to the vicious attack on Toby Seward in this city two nights ago. We have two prime suspects for this attack, who are also our prime suspects for the murders of Suzy Driver and Lena Welch. They are linked to an internet romance fraud scamming outfit operating out of Germany, with further links to Ghana. We’ve established they have been operating from rented accommodation here in Brighton and we believe our suspects recently broke away from a much larger organization, possibly masterminded out of the Channel Isles. DS Camping is liaising with the Jersey States Police.’ He paused to swig some water from a bottle.

‘As you’ll know, a major development today is that one of these suspects, Kofi Okonjo, also known as Dunstan Ogwang, who was arrested on Tuesday night shortly after the attack on Toby Seward and was remanded in custody in Lewes Prison yesterday, was found murdered in a shower block there earlier this afternoon.’

‘Is anyone upset about the loss of such a fine, upstanding citizen, chief?’ Norman Potting asked.

Roy Grace was not smiling. ‘Norman!’ he rebuked.

‘Sorry, chief.’

‘Our role is to solve crimes, not to act as vigilante judge and jury, OK, Norman?’

As Potting looked duly chastised, Grace would dearly love to have added, more’s the pity. But he kept his focus.

‘On Tuesday night, our dear long-lost friend, the amazing disappearing American hitman Tooth, was spotted in Withdean Road, close to the house where our two suspects were running their operation. We don’t know what he was doing there, but it seems he may now be parked outside a block of flats in Kemp Town. Knowing what we do about Tooth’s line of work, I suspect he may be linked to the killing of Okonjo in prison. It is extremely unlikely that Okonjo was murdered as a result of a fight, because in my view he’d not been in there long enough to have made enemies.’

Potting interrupted. ‘Chief, we know from past experience that Tooth has Houdini-like qualities — but are you suggesting he somehow got into the prison, stabbed Okonjo and slipped out again?’

‘I’ve no evidence to support that, Norman. But the presence of Tooth is very timely and indicates that he could be involved in some way. My hypothesis is that Okonjo was the victim of a contract killing — he was killed either to silence him or in retribution, or both. If Okonjo was killed to order, it is very possible there is a contract out on his partner, Jules de Copeland, too. We understand they were both working for Steve Barrey and split away from him to start on their own. Barrey’s a ruthless man. It seems so far he’s been like the old Mafia capo John Gotti, nicknamed the Teflon Don, who evaded prosecution and justice for decades.’

He took another swig of water. ‘I’m going to continue with the surveillance team on Marina Heights, but in the meantime I want two of you to back up PC Trundle. Which of you are green permit holders?’

A green permit holder was a police officer with a driving licence that permitted engaging in a pursuit.

DC Wilde and DC Hall raised their hands.

‘Right, Velvet and Kevin, take a car and go and remain in the area — but keep well clear and out of direct line of sight from anyone in the building. I’ll get Comms to inform Trundle when you are in position.’

Both detectives immediately left the room.

Grace’s phone rang. Apologizing to his team, he took the call. It was Aiden Gilbert from Digital Forensics.

‘Boss, we have some more detail from Jules de Copeland’s email. It’s come as a result of the continuing monitoring of his email account we’ve been authorized to carry out. We don’t have his present location, but he’s made an RV with someone we’ve identified as a Mrs Lynda Merrill for tomorrow evening at an address near East Grinstead. It seems she is bringing a substantial amount of cash with her. At least £300,000.’

‘What? Hang on, Aiden.’ Grace told his team to stand down and hurried to his workstation. ‘Tell me what you have?’

‘From the email comms, this lady is all loved-up with a gentleman she believes to be called Richie Griffiths,’ Gilbert said. ‘We’ve identified this to be a false name given to her by Jules de Copeland. It looks like they’ve agreed to meet tomorrow evening at an isolated cottage for a romantic weekend.’

‘Do you have the address?’ Grace asked.

‘I do, she’s sent it to him with elaborate directions on finding it.’

‘Nice work!’

Gilbert gave it to him and he wrote it down. Primrose Farm Cottage, Forest Row. Along with the directions.

‘Sounds like they’re planning to meet around 6.30 p.m. tomorrow evening, boss. You wouldn’t want to go and spoil their beautiful tryst, would you?’