Peter James - Dead Simple

Grace smiled to reassure their new recruit, Emma-Jane, a slim, attractive girl with an alert face and long fair hair scooped up in a bun, then started to read out loud to them the report he had dictated since leaving the mortuary, and which Emma-Jane had just typed up. This was the way he liked to run all his investigations - keeping everything under constant review.

'The time is six-fifteen p.m., Sunday May 29th,' he read out. 'This is the first review of Operation Salsa, the investigation into the disappearance of twenty-nine-year-old male Michael Harrison, conducted on day five of his disappearance. I will now summarize the incident.'

For some minutes, Grace reviewed the events leading up to Michael's disappearance. Then he discussed possible suspects. 'At this time we have no evidence a crime has been committed. However, I am uncomfortable about Michael Harrison's business partner, Mark Warren, and his fiancee, Ashley Harper. I am also uncomfortable about Ashley's uncle from Canada, Bradley Cunningham, because I have a hunch he is not who he says he is - just a hunch at this stage.'

He paused to drink some water, then continued. 'Resourcing. East Downs Division has been very positive in offering manpower. We instigated a search of the vicinity of the accident last Tuesday night and have been upgrading the level of this further over the past few days. I'm now bringing in the Sussex Police Underwater Search Unit, and will have the USU team drag all local rivers, lakes and reservoirs. We will also request a further helicopter sweep - the visibility from the improved weather conditions may be helpful.'

He went on through the headings. 'Meeting cycles': Grace announced there would be a daily 8.30 a.m. and 6.30 p.m. briefing. He reported that the Holmes computer team had been up and running since Friday. He read out the list under the heading 'Investigative Strategies', which included 'Communications/Media', reporting that Michael Harrison's disappearance was scheduled to feature in this week's Crimewatch television programme if he hadn't turned up by then.

Next was 'Forensics'. Grace reported that soil samples from Mark Warren's car were being analysed along with soil samples recovered from the clothing and hands of the four dead boys. There should be an initial report some time tomorrow from Hilary Flowers, the forensic geologist they had consulted.

Then he reached the heading 'Any Concerns Raised by SIO', and there read out his detailed issues about the attitudes and anomalies in Mark Warren's and Ashley Harper's behaviour - and the disclosure of the Cayman Islands bank account of Double-M Properties.

When he reached the end of the report, he summed up: 'The alternative scenarios as I see them are as follows:

'One. Michael Harrison has been incarcerated somewhere and cannot escape.

'Two. Michael Harrison is dead - either as a result of his incarceration or has been unlawfully killed.

'Three. Michael Harrison has deliberately disappeared.'

Then he asked his team if they had any questions. Glenn Branson raised his hand and asked whether the body of the as yet unidentified man found in the woods had any bearing on the events.

'Unless there's a serial killer in Ashdown Forest targeting twentynine-year-old males, I don't think so.'

Grace's reply raised a titter despite the seriousness of the situation. 'Who's going to own this murder victim?' Branson asked.

'East Downs Division,' Grace said. 'We have enough on our plate.'

'Roy, any thoughts of putting tails on Ashley Harper and Mark Warren?' Branson asked.

It was an option he had been considering, but to put an effective twenty-four-hour surveillance watch on anyone could take as many as thirty people - three teams working in eight-hour shifts - on a simple job. More if it was complicated. The drain on manpower was astronomical, and Grace knew from experience that his chiefs would only sanction surveillance when absolutely necessary - such as on a potential major drugs bust or when there was a life at stake. If they made no headway soon, he might have to make the request. 'Yes he said. 'But park that for now. But what I do want is a scan on all the CCTV footage in Brighton and Have last Thursday, from dawn until one a.m. Friday morning. Mark Warren was out in his car, a BMW off-roader - the details are on the file. I'd like to know where he went.' Then he added, 'Oh yes, and Michael Harrison has a yacht he keeps at the Sussex Motor Yacht Club. Someone should make sure it's still there. We'll look like dickheads organizing a manhunt if we find he's buggered off to sea on his boat.' He looked at DC Bourwood. 'You can narrow the CCTV footage down from the mobile phone cell logs - you just need to pick the cameras in the area they throw up. Have you made any progress?' 'Not yet, sir. I'll be on it first thing in the morning - no one can help me today.' Grace looked at his watch. 'I have to be in court tomorrow at ten -I may or may not be needed there all day. So we meet here at eight thirty first.' He turned to Branson. 'Our liaison at the East Downs is Detective Inspector Jon Lamb. He's already got his team started - be good if you speak to him.' 'I'll call him in a few minutes.' Grace fell silent, scanning the pages of the review, checking he had not missed anything. He needed to know more about the character of Michael Harrison and about his business relationship with Mark Warren, and also about Ashley Harper. Then he looked up at his team. 'It's now almost seven-thirty, on a Sunday evening. I think you should go home, get some rest -1 think we're going to have a full week ahead of us. Thanks for giving up your Sunday' Branson, wearing fashionably baggy slacks and a sharp, zip-up cotton top, walked out to the car park with him. 'What's your sense, old wise one?' he asked. Grace dug his hands in his pocket and said, 'I've been too close to this for the past couple of days - what's yours?'

Branson slapped his hands against his sides in frustration. 'Man! Why are you always doing this to me? Can't you just answer my questions?' 'I dunno. Tell me?'

'Shit, you really piss me off sometimes!'

'Oh, so you had a nice weekend away with your family, leaving me to do your job, and that pisses you off?'

Indignant, Branson exclaimed 'A nice weekend with my family. You call driving three hours up the Ml and three hours back, with a bolshy wife and two screaming kids, a nice weekend? Next time you drive them to Solihull, and I'll stay here and do whatever crap job you want me to do. Deal?'

'Bargain.'

Grace reached his car. Branson hovered. 'So, what is your sense?'

'It's not all as it seems, Horatio, that's my sense.'

'Meaning?'

'I can't put it any more clearly - yet. I have a bad feeling about Mark Warren and about Ashley Harper.'

'What kind of bad feeling?'

'A very bad feeling.'

Grace gave his friend a warm pat on the back, then climbed into his car and drove to the security gate. As he pulled out on the main road, with its panoramic view across Brighton and Have, right down to the sea, with the sun still high above the horizon in the cloudless cobalt sky, he punched the CD button for Bob Berg's Riddles, and as he drove he began to chill. And for a few delicious moments his thoughts turned away from his investigations, to Cleo Morey.

And he smiled.

Then his thoughts turned back to work: to the long drive to south London and back he had ahead. If he was lucky, he might be home by midnight.

62

Mark, in sweatshirt, jeans and socks, paced around his apartment, a glass of whisky in his hand, unable to settle or to think clearly. The television was on, the sound mute, the actor Michael Kitchen striding, steely-faced, through a war-torn southern England landscape that looked vaguely familiar - somewhere near Hastings, he thought he recognized.