Peter James - Not Dead Yet

She studied it carefully for some moments, then shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, no I don’t.’

‘He hasn’t been in here?’

‘Not while I’ve been here, I’m sure.’

‘We believe he was here yesterday evening and paid for one hour’s internet access.’

‘Ah, right, I wasn’t here last night.’

‘Who was here?’

‘The owner and his wife, but they’re off today.’

‘Can you contact them?’

She looked at her watch. ‘They’ve gone to a George Michael concert in London. I shouldn’t think they’ll hear the phone. But they’ll be here all day tomorrow. I can try, if you like?’

‘We’ll come back tomorrow,’ Grace said.

Jason Tingley pointed up at the CCTV camera. ‘Is that working?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘How long is the footage kept before it gets wiped?’

‘I’m not certain – I believe it’s a week.’

‘Do you know how to replay footage on it?’ Grace asked.

‘No, and I wouldn’t dare touch it!’

‘Okay, what time do you open tomorrow?’

‘Ten.’

‘Right, now this is really important,’ Grace said. ‘Can you please ask the owners, or leave a message for them, to make absolutely sure all footage from yesterday is retained?’

‘Yes, yes of course,’ she said.

Grace gave her his card, then they left.

As they climbed back into the car, Jason Tingley said, ‘We have a motive. The Café Conneckted receipt puts Drayton Wheeler in a place where he could have sent that email last night. In my view we could start making some assumptions.’

‘I hate that word, Jason,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘As I’ve often said, in my experience assumptions are the mother and father of all cock-ups. I prefer to stick with hypotheses .’

The DI grinned. ‘Okay, hypotheses . Drayton Wheeler believes he has been screwed by Larry Brooker – or his company. So he decides to hit back by sabotaging the production? By killing the leading lady?’

‘Why didn’t he just sue?’ Grace replied. ‘Presumably it was money he was after?’

Tingley tapped the side of his head. ‘Dealing with a crazy?’

Grace was thinking about the vials of medication in the bathroom. Was this some kind of desperate act by a dying man? But with what aim? ‘Did you ever hear that expression, “The more I do this job, the less I know?”’ he asked.

Tingley smiled. ‘No, but I understand it.’

Grace nodded. ‘Please God it was Drayton Wheeler who sent that email last night, and that he’s the guy under the chandelier. That would be a rather tragic but very elegant solution.’

‘Beware of assumptions, didn’t you say, chief?’ the DI remarked with a cheeky grin.

Roy Grace, deep in thought, did not respond. He was thinking hard what he needed to do to step up the security for Gaia and her son, regardless of cost, until they could be sure that the threat to her was over.

And he had a nagging doubt. Some of it stacked up, but not all of it. Not enough.

It was late when he finally got home to Cleo. She was lying, half-asleep in bed, with an old Miss Marple episode playing on the television. Murder At The Vicarage , he recognized after a few moments.

‘How are you feeling?’ He kissed her forehead.

‘I’m okay. But Bump’s training for the Olympics!’ She guided his hand to her stomach, and he could feel their baby zapping around as if on a trampoline. He smiled, proudly and lovingly. It was such an amazing sensation. Their child. His and hers. Alive inside her.

He lay beside her for some minutes, just holding her tightly and feeling the baby’s exertions. Then he kissed her. ‘God, I love you so much,’ he said.

‘I love you too,’ she said. ‘But it’s no good you coming to bed on an empty stomach – I don’t want to lie here listening to it rumble all night!’ She kissed him. ‘There’s a Marks and Sparks fish pie on the worktop. Give it a few minutes in the microwave – it says how many on the pack. And there are some peas in a saucepan – just bring them to the boil.’

‘You spoil me!’

‘You’re worth spoiling. So, did you save the world tonight?’

‘Probably.’

‘That’s what I love about you, Detective Superintendent Grace. Your modesty.’

He kissed her again. ‘It sort of comes naturally!’

‘Oh yes? By the way, Humphrey refused to go out. He needs to do his business – if we don’t want a prezzie on the carpet in the morning!’

‘I’ll take him for a walk. Do you still want the telly on?’

‘You can turn it off, please, I’m going to try to sleep, if I can convince Bump! Don’t forget about that Gaia documentary I recorded.’

‘I had forgotten – thanks for reminding me.’

He went downstairs, clipped the lead on Humphrey’s collar with some difficulty, while the overjoyed creature kept jumping up and down licking his face. Then he took a plastic bag from under the kitchen sink, crammed it into his pocket and led the dog out of the front door.

Humphrey squatted the moment they were in the cobbled courtyard.

‘Wait!’ Grace hissed.

The dog took no notice, defecating firmly and proudly, as a neighbour wheeled his bicycle past. ‘Hope you’re going to pick that up,’ the man mumbled.

Grace scooped it up, dearly tempted to push it through the rude cyclist’s letterbox. Then he threaded his way with Humphrey through the narrow streets of the North Laine district of Brighton, heading for his favourite part of the city, the seafront itself, and the promenade beneath the Arches. He deposited the bag in a designated bin, relieved that at least now the dog had performed, he would be able to let it off the lead.

As he walked, he was deep in thought. Thinking about the email. Was the man under the chandelier the sender? He read it again on his BlackBerry.

I still cannot believe how you cut me dead. I thought your whole point in coming to England was to see me. I know you love me, really. You’re going to be sorry you did that. Very sorry. You made me look a fool. You made people laugh at me. I’m going to give you the chance to apologise. You are soon going to be telling the whole world how much you love me. I will kill you if you don’t.

It chimed but it didn’t fit. ‘I thought your whole point in coming to England was to see me.’ That did not make sense in the context: ‘You made people laugh at me. I’m going to give you the chance to apologise. You are soon going to be telling the whole world how much you love me. I will kill you if you don’t. ’

Drayton Wheeler’s actions were just not consistent with that. These weren’t the words of a man who believed his story or his script had been ripped off. Unless he was a totally confused crazy. Also, from what he knew, an American would have spelled apologise with a z not an s .

Was sacrificing his life to save Gaia’s child some kind of desperate gesture to make Gaia love him?

It was a dark night but the rain was still holding off. There were dozens of people out and about. He walked in the shadow of the Palace Pier, so preoccupied he barely even clocked it as the place where he and Sandy, some twenty years ago, had had their first kiss.

He called Humphrey, clipped his lead back on, then, still deep in thought, he headed home.

Twenty minutes later, Roy Grace put the fish pie into the microwave, switched on the hob and placed the saucepan of peas on top. Then he took his Policy Book out of his briefcase and sat down on the sofa to update it. Humphrey entered into a life-or-death tussle with a squeaky stuffed elephant on the floor.