‘But I need to take “confidence in the police” into consideration. The public need to see progress being made. If we lose their confidence, they’ll start ignoring advice. Then it moves from a public confidence issue to a publicsafetyissue.’
‘It’s not as straightforward as that, ma’am,’ Poe said. ‘And while I appreciate the decisions you’re making now will no doubt be scrutinised at the inevitable public inquiry, I think, tactically, the best thing to do is let the security services sit on Puck’s home in Yorkshire while we sit on his ex-wife in Gretna.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ she said. ‘But we’re getting the E-FIT and we’re getting it soon. At the very least I want to know what this fool looks like.’
‘We know he’s tall,’ Poe said.
‘So are you,’ Mathers said. ‘So is Lurch.’
‘Lurch?’
‘Sergeant Illingworth. He’s one of my armed cops. My point is that lots of people are tall. Hell, even Archie Arreghini’s bruiser tops out at six-three.’
Poe looked at Bradshaw. Wondered if she were about to offer Mathers some mango. ‘Yes, he does, doesn’t he.’
A suspicion bubble rose to the top of his mind-swamp and popped. It didn’t smell nice.
Chapter 63
Poe had never got onboard with the working-from-home craze. He appreciated that everyone’s circumstances were different, but the pandemic was over. He didn’t understand why people didn’t want a change of scenery. A change of pace. He didn’t understand why anyone would choose to bring office equipment into their home. Why they would voluntarily blur the boundaries between their work and personal life. Be at the beck and call of their boss. He’d even heard about one hippy-dippy organisation that insisted their employees did Zoom yoga every morning. Even the staff member in a wheelchair was forced to join in. But most of all, he didn’t understand why such an inherently social animal, one that relied on cooperation to survive and thrive, would willingly cut off ties with their ‘pack’. When it came to the antisocial crank awards, Poe was always in contention, but even in his darkest days, he had never envisaged rejectingallforms of human interaction.
But he was WFH now, as Bradshaw insisted on calling it, because, with no new leads to follow, Mathers had sent them home. She didn’t want them distracted by the day-to-day minutiae of a large-scale murder investigation; she wanted them doing what they’d been brought in to do. She wanted Bradshaw working on Ezekiel Puck’s profile. She wanted Poe thinking about what Puck’s next move might be.
Poe hadn’t protested. And he had to admit that Highwood, with its expansive grounds and its game larder, wasn’t a bad place to be when you were confined to barracks. And Highwoodwasconducive to thinking. To letting air into his mind. Poe felt he needed that. He needed to contribute. Otherthan having an untested theory about Ezekiel Puck’s motive, he hadn’t felt particularly useful. Bradshaw had made the big breakthrough, not him. So far, his input had been minimal, almost inconsequential. And although he knew that feelings of worthlessness were a symptom of PTSD, it didn’t make them any less real. He spent the first few days walking the grounds with Edgar. He would check in with Bradshaw first thing in the morning, collect the sandwiches and flask of tea that Brunton made for him, then he and his over-excited spaniel would set off. By the time he returned, hungry, thirsty and exhausted, there was barely enough time to call Flynn for an update before he was called down for his evening meal. He, Bradshaw and Doyle would spend the rest of the night yakking away into the small hours.
That evening, while they were polishing off a chippy tea (vegan patty for Bradshaw, fish and chips for everyone else, extra battered black pudding for Poe), Doyle said, ‘When are you planning to see Doctor Lang, Poe?’
Poe shrugged. ‘They won’t let me in. I got the impression she’d caused a disturbance. A bad one.’
‘That was a week ago,’ Doyle said. ‘She’ll be stable now. Why don’t you go and see her this week? It’ll do you both good. You’re part of each other’s therapy.’
‘I’ll come with you if you want, Poe,’ Bradshaw said. ‘I think Doctor Clara Lang will have a unique insight into Ezekiel Puck. It will be helpful for my profile.’
‘I’ll call the hospital first thing tomorrow.’
Bradshaw’s phone rang. She tilted the screen so Poe could see. It was Flynn. Bradshaw put their boss on speakerphone.
‘This is Tilly Bradshaw,’ Bradshaw said. ‘I am not alone. I repeat, I amnotalone.’
‘Yes, very good, Tilly,’ Flynn replied. ‘Is Poe with you?’
‘I am, boss.’
‘Good. Get yourselves in front of a TV,’ she said. ‘There’s something you both need to see.’
Chapter 64
The something they needed to see was a Metropolitan Police press conference.
It was due to start at 9 p.m. Poe checked his watch. It was coming up to nine now. Mathers had told Flynn the press conference was happening, and Flynn had told Poe. Mathers had given Flynn enough time for them to find a TV but not enough time for them to interfere. Poe knew this was true because it wasn’t a hastily assembled press conference, one put together to break urgent news. This press conference looked slick, as though it had been managed by a high-end PR agency. It had been planned, probably for a couple of days. It had a strategy.
Flynn said Mathers wasn’t returning her calls. Hadn’t for a while now. Flynn was giving her the benefit of the doubt. She said Mathers was running the biggest, longest-running murder investigation the country had ever seen – bigger even than the Yorkshire Ripper – and there would be times when she simply wasn’t available. Poe thought Flynn was being generous. Even in the heat of the Botanist case, Mathers was always available. If she wasn’t returning Flynn’s calls it was because she didn’t want to return them.
Poe didn’t like that. He didn’t like that one bit.
All the major channels had broken away from their regular schedule to show the press conference live. The BBC, ITV, Channels 4 and 5, Sky News. The desk had a forest of microphones in front of it, each with a gaudy station or newspaper logo strapped to the handle. Doyle had turned her TV to the BBC, but the press conference was broadcast like the Queen’s funeral had been – it was on every channel. Arolling banner across the bottom of the screen said,MAJOR BREAKTHROUGH IN SNIPER CASE.The BBC had a split screen. The left side showed an empty desk with the Metropolitan Police backdrop behind it. Jugs of water and three empty glasses. A large LED presentation screen to the side of the desk had the same logo as the backdrop. It was bouncing around the screen like it was trapped. Very nineties. The right side was a succession of talking heads. Puffed-up wannabes, short on facts, big on conjecture. None of them knew what the major breakthrough was, though all claimed to be inside the loop. Poe wasn’t inside the loop, not any more, but he knewexactlywhat the press conference was about.
Flynn called back. Bradshaw put her on speakerphone again.
