Dead Man's Time

ran below: how Eamonn Pollock, patron of a leading Brighton charity for disabled children, had been convicted of receiving and handling stolen goods, including a haul of watches.
But it wasn’t the story that interested him at this moment. It was the man’s photograph. Taken twenty years ago, he was marginally less pudgy, and his hair was darker. But there the
differences ended.
    It was the face of the man who had given his name to Julius Rosenblaum as Robert Kenton.
    The man who, the genealogist Martin Diplock had found out for him, was a descendant of one of the men who had come into his bedroom that night, back in 1922, murdered his mother and dragged away
his father.
    And now he had stolen his father’s watch.

78
    There were mixed feelings at the Friday morning briefing of Operation Flounder. All the team present were pleased that one suspect, Gareth Dupont, had been charged with Aileen
McWhirter’s murder. But there was no celebration; they all knew that while one of the monkeys was now potted, the organ-grinder was still at large. Fingers pointed towards Eamonn Pollock, but
so far they had no evidence to implicate him in, or even link him to, the crime.
    The High Tech Crime Unit had found a series of calls made to Spain from Dupont’s mobile number during July and August. The Spanish numbers changed frequently and were all on untraceable
pay-as-you-go mobile phones. They were not even able to tell the region in Spain. Neither Dupont’s work computer nor private laptop had yielded any useful information. Their hopes at the
moment lay with Norman Potting, who had flown out to Marbella to liaise with the Spanish police investigating the deaths of the two Irish expats, Kenneth Barnes and Anthony Macario, and to see what
he could find out about Eamonn Pollock. Digging away doggedly was one of Potting’s particular talents.
    The forensic podiatrist whom Grace had used to great effect on a previous case was due to join this morning’s briefing at Grace’s request. ‘I’ve asked Dr Haydn Kelly to
join us this morning as he has some significant information regarding Barnes and Macario. He will be along soon as he has a Faculty of Surgery board meeting to attend this morning and he’s
been good enough to come straight over to us afterwards.’ At that point there was a knock at the door. He had arrived. Grace nodded at their visitor.
    Haydn Kelly, in his mid-forties, had an open, pleasant face, with close-cropped hair, and had a relaxed air about him. He was wearing a navy linen suit, a crisp white shirt with a vivid
emerald-green tie, and tan loafers; he could have just stepped out of a villa on the French Riviera. But when he turned to face the group, his demeanour became serious and focused. ‘Hi,
team,’ he said. ‘Good to see you all again. The Marbella police have sent me casts taken from the feet of Kenneth Barnes and Anthony Macario. I’ll now explain, briefly, the
matching I’ve done to the trainer prints taken from Mrs McWhirter’s house.’
    Kelly spent the next five minutes explaining the calculations and his computer analysis, concluding that the shoeprints taken at the crime scene were a match to Barnes and Macario.
    Roy Grace thanked him. ‘Okay, we now have three people at the crime scene. Two are dead, and the third, Gareth Dupont, is staring into the abyss. I’m having him taken out of prison
on a Production Order, and am going to chat to him on an informal basis – see if we can get any names out of him – in exchange for a few privileges.’
    ‘How about a Jacuzzi in his cell?’ Dave Green said.
    ‘I wish!’ Grace replied. Giving prisoners favours was no longer an option. Any privileges had to be given, unofficially and unsanctioned, while the prisoner was with the police and
away from the prison.
    Bella Moy reported that one sharp-eyed member of her outside enquiry team had spotted an Art Deco mirror taken from Aileen McWhirter’s house on an antiques stall in Lewes. The owner said
he’d bought it from a man who walked in off the street. He was sketchy about his description, but it sounded to her like Lester Stork.
    ‘That would fit,’ Grace said.
    ‘Presumably before he was dead?’ Guy Batchelor said. ‘Or did he get it
dead
cheap?’
    Several of the team groaned. Then Roy Grace turned to the antiques expert, Peregrine Stuart-Simmonds. ‘You have a possible development.’
    ‘Yes, I do. I have a list of all forthcoming auctions around the world for