Dead Man's Footsteps

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.’

114
OCTOBER 2007
    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 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 Skerritt’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