Dead Man's Grip

donkey and a single gold hooped earring. Various lines connected the circle around him to different names: members of his family, friends, known associates, contacts.
    ‘One of that lot, they’ll know where Preece is. He’s around, here in the city, mark my words.’
    Grace nodded. Someone like Preece wouldn’t have any contacts outside his small world of petty criminals within Brighton and Hove. This was likely to be the limit of his horizons. Which made it even more irritating that the little toerag had managed to remain at large for five days already without a sighting.
    On the typed notes from his MSA he had headings for four of the different lines of enquiry so far.
    1. Ewan Preece – family, friends, known associates and contacts
    2. Search for the van – local witnesses and CCTV
    3. Ford Transit wing mirror
    4. Ford Prison – (link to 1.)
    He looked up at the whiteboard, at the family tree of Preece’s relatives and social network that they were putting together. He stared at the weaselly, scarred face of Preece, so thin he looked almost emaciated. He’d had dealings with him before when he’d done a two-year spell on Response, before he’d joined the CID. Preece was like many in this city, a kid of a single parent from a rough estate, who’d never had guidance from his rubbish mother. Grace remembered going round to see her after Preece, then aged fourteen, had been arrested for joyriding. He could still recall her opening the door with a fag in her mouth, saying, ‘What do you expect me to do? I’m on me way to play bingo.’
    He turned to PC Davies, who was looking tired. ‘Anything to report, Alec?’
    ‘Yes, chief.’ He yawned. ‘Sorry, been up all night going through
CCTV footage. There were several sightings of what might be our van within the timeline.’
    ‘Did any of the cameras get the index?’
    He shook his head. ‘No, but several are fairly positive sightings because you can see the wing mirror’s missing. In the first of these at the junction of Carlton Terrace and Old Shoreham Road it was heading west. It was still heading west, according to the camera at Benfield Way and Old Shoreham Road. The same at the one sited on Trafalgar Road and on Applesham Way. Then the last sighting was the van heading south towards Southwick.’
    ‘Do any show the driver?’ Glenn Branson asked.
    Davies nodded. ‘Yes, but not clearly enough to identify him. I’ve given the footage to Chris Heaver in the Imaging Unit to see if he can enhance it for us.’
    ‘Good,’ Grace said.
    ‘I think he may have gone to ground somewhere in central Southwick,’ Alec Davies said. He stood up and walked uncertainly over to another whiteboard, on which was pinned a large-scale street map of the city. ‘My reasoning is this. The vehicle was last sighted here.’ He pointed. ‘This CCTV camera is outside an off-licence, close to Southwick Green. So far there are no further sightings. I’ve had officers checking all around that area and there are a number of cameras that would almost certainly have picked up the van if it had gone down to the harbour, or doubled back and along the Old Shoreham Road, or if it had headed on to the A27.’ He looked directly at Grace. ‘It could be an indication it’s still within this area, sir.’ Then he circled with his finger around Southwick and Portslade, taking in the northern perimeter of Shoreham Harbour.
    ‘Good work,’ Grace said. ‘I agree. Map the area out with boundaries and get the Outside Inquiry Team, and local officers who know the area, to do a street-by-street search. Get them to knock on the door of every house that’s got an enclosed garage and ask permission to look inside. And see if there are any lock-ups in the area, or anywhere else that a van could be kept concealed. At the same time, get your team to talk to people in the area. Maybe there are witnesses who saw the van driving fast or erratically around that time.’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘And now I think you need to get some rest.’
    Davies grinned. ‘I’m tanked on caffeine, sir. I’m fine.’
    Grace looked at him hard for a moment, before saying, ‘Good lad, but don’t exhaust yourself.’ He looked down at the next item on his list, then addressed Sergeant Paul Wood from the Collision Investigation Unit. ‘Have we got any more information from the van’s wing mirror?’
    ‘I wasn’t happy, because we hadn’t recovered all the parts from the scene, chief,’ Wood replied.