Peter James - Dead Man’s Footsteps

The display said the usual Private number calling.

She pressed the button to answer.

Grace stared in disbelief as he drove down his street just after 8 o’clock. He recognized Joan Major’s distinctive slab-shaped silver Fiat too now, parked outside his house. But it was the vehicle in the drive that astonished him the most. It was one of the Sussex Police white Scientific Support Branch vans.

Also in the street, behind Joan Major’s car, was a plain brown Ford Mondeo. He knew from the number plate that it was one of the CID pool cars. What the hell was going on?

He pulled up, leaped out of his car and ran into the house. It was silent.

He called out, ‘Hello? Anyone here?’

No reply.

He walked through into the kitchen to check that the automatic feeder fixed to the bowl of his goldfish, Marlon, had been working. Then he looked out of the window into the rear garden.

The sight that met his eyes defied belief.

Joan Major, and two SOCO officers he knew, were walking up his lawn. The forensic archaeologist, in the centre, was holding a long piece of electrical equipment in the shape of a canoe paddle, supported by a shoulder brace, and with a display screen of some kind in the centre. The SOCO officer on her right was peering intently at the screen, while the one on her left wrote down something on a large pad.

Stunned, Grace unlocked the rear door and sprinted out. ‘Hey! Excuse me! Joan, what on earth are you doing?’

Joan Major’s face reddened with embarrassment. ‘Oh, good morning, Roy. Umm. I assumed you knew we were here.’

‘I had no idea. Do you want to fill me in? What is that?’ He nodded at the equipment. ‘What on earth is going on?’

‘It’s GPR,’ she replied.

‘GPR?’

‘Ground Penetrating Radar.’

‘What are you doing with it?’

Her face reddened even more. Then, as if he was having a bad dream, out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the few police officers in the CID that he really did not like. On the whole, in Grace’s experience, most police officers got on with each other reasonably well. Just occasionally he had come across one whose attitude really irked him, and emerging through his garden gate at this moment was a young DC he just could not stomach. His name was Alfonso Zafferone.

A sullen, arrogant man in his late twenties, with Latino good looks and shiny, mussed-about hair, Zafferone was slickly dressed in a smart beige mackintosh over a tan suit. Although he was a sharp detective, Zafferone had a serious attitude problem and Grace had written a scathing report after his last experience working with the man.

Now Zafferone was striding across his lawn, chewing gum and holding a sheet of paper in his hand of the kind that Grace was all too familiar with.

‘Good morning, Detective Superintendent. Nice to see you again.’ Zafferone gave him a smarmy smile.

‘You want to tell me just what is going on?’

The young DC held up the signed document. ‘A search warrant,’ Zafferone said.

‘For my garden?’

‘And the house too.’ He hesitated, then added a reluctant, ‘Sir.’

Now Grace was almost beside himself with rage. This was not real. No way. Absolutely no way.

‘Is this some kind of a joke? Just who the fuck is responsible for this?’

Zafferone smiled, as if he was in on this too and was really enjoying his moment of power, and said, ‘Detective Superintendent Pewe.’

Cassian Pewe was sitting in his office, in his shirtsleeves, reading through a policy document, when his door burst open and Roy Grace came in, his face contorted with rage. He slammed the door shut behind him, then put both hands on Pewe’s desk and glared at him.

Pewe sat back and put his hands up defensively. ‘Roy,’ he said. ‘Good morning!’

‘How dare you?’ Grace yelled at him. ‘How fucking dare you? You wait until I’ve gone away and you do this ? You fucking humiliate me in front of my neighbours and the entire force?’

‘Roy, calm down, please. Let me explain-’

‘Calm down? I’m not going to fucking calm down. I’m going to cut your fucking head off and use you as a hat stand.’

‘Is that a threat?’

‘Yes, it’s a threat, you creep. Go run to Alison Vosper and ask her to blow your nose while you sit her on her lap and blub your eyes out, or whatever it is you do with each other.’

‘I thought with you being away – it would be less embarrassing for you.’

‘I’m going to have you, Pewe. You are going to really regret this.’

‘I don’t appreciate the tone of your voice, Roy.’

‘And I don’t appreciate SOCO officers crawling all over my home with a search warrant. You fucking stop them right now.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Pewe said, getting a little more courageous after realizing Grace was not going to hit him. ‘But following my interview with your late wife’s parents, I’m not comfortable that every aspect of your wife’s disappearance has been investigated as thoroughly as it should have been at the time.’

He smiled in conclusion, and Grace did not think he had ever hated anyone in all his life as much as he hated Cassian Pewe at this moment.

‘Really? Just what did her parents say to you that’s so new?’

‘Her father had quite a bit to say.’

‘Did he tell you his father was in the RAF during the war?’

‘Yes, actually, he did,’ Pewe said.

‘Did he tell you about any of the bombing sorties his father went on?’

‘In some detail. Fascinating. He sounds a character. He flew on some of the Dambusters missions. Extraordinary man.’

‘Sandy’s father is an extraordinary man,’ Grace confirmed. ‘He is a complete fantasist. His father was never in 617 Squadron – the Dambusters squadron. And he was an aircraft fitter, not a gunner. He never flew on a single mission.’

Pewe was silent for a second, looking slightly uncomfortable. Grace stormed back out, crossed the corridor and marched straight into the Chief Superintendent’s office. He stood in front of Sker-ritt’s desk until his boss had finished a call and then said, ‘Jack, I need to talk to you.’

Skerritt ushered him to a chair. ‘How was New York?’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘Got some good information – I’ll circulate a report. I’ve literally just got back.’

‘Your Operation Dingo team seems to be making some headway. I see there’s a big operation going on today.’

‘Yes, there is.’

‘Are you letting DI Mantle run with it, or are you taking back command?’

‘I think today we’re going to need everyone,’ Grace said. ‘It’s going to depend on the geography to some extent who else we involve.’

Skerritt nodded. ‘So, what did you want to talk about?’

‘Detective Superintendent Pewe,’ he said.

‘Wasn’t my choice to bring him here,’ Skerritt said, giving Grace a knowing look.

‘I realize that.’ He was aware that Skerritt disliked the man almost as much as he did.

‘So what’s the problem?’

Grace told him.

When he had finished, Jack Skerritt shook his head incredulously. ‘I can’t believe he did this behind your back. It’s one thing to have an open investigation, and that can be a healthy thing, sometimes. But I don’t like the way this is being handled at all. Not one bit. How long has Sandy been missing now?’

‘Getting on for nine and half years.’

Skerritt thought for a moment, then looked at his watch. ‘Are you going to your briefing meeting?’

‘Yes.’

‘Tell you what I’ll do, I’ll speak to him now. Come and see me straight after your meeting.’