Dead Man's Time

of them until the end of this week, giving me a chance to get myself sorted. To be
honest, being at work’s the best thing for me. Got a lot to report, old timer, while you’ve been swanning around the US of A.’
    ‘Haha.’
    He felt tired after a cramped, uncomfortable flight, jammed in the centre of three seats, with a bawling baby two rows behind him. And he had been far too wired with his thoughts to sleep, even
if the baby had let him. He made a promise never to inflict Noah on any long-haul passengers if he possibly could.
    It was a wet day, with a chill in the air, in contrast to the Indian-summer warmth of New York yesterday. The wipers clopped away the water in front of him, although he would almost have
preferred it if they didn’t, so he couldn’t see anything. Glenn’s driving seemed to be getting faster and worse the more experience he had. Right now he was accelerating towards a
roundabout, when any sane person would be braking. Grace pressed his own feet hard into the footwell, and Branson shot the Ford right in front of a skip lorry that had right of way; he heard the
angry blast of the lorry’s horn, felt the rear wheels losing grip, and the slide start to happen. Braking hard now, Branson over-corrected and the tail went in the opposite direction.
Somehow, miraculously, they came out of the other side of the roundabout still intact, and headed down the M23 slip road.
    ‘Do you have any concept of the laws of physics?’ Grace asked.
    ‘Physics?’
    ‘Maybe you should study momentum, get your head around that a little. You could try working out that a car going seventy miles an hour in a straight line has to slow down before turning
sharp left, and especially in the wet.’
    ‘That was a controlled power slide. Like Jeremy Clarkson does,’ Glenn said.
    ‘Ah.’
    ‘I don’t know why you’re worried – I’ve never had a crash.’
    ‘Maybe you’re saving it up for the big one.’ Switching subjects, Grace asked, ‘Anything back from the lab on our dog, Humphrey?’ Then he winced as Branson pulled
straight across into the fast lane, only inches behind the car in front.
    ‘No, it will take a couple of days. We found a vial of tablets in Smallbone’s bathroom that we’ve also sent for analysis. We’ve been keeping a careful eye on Cleo; an
FLO’s been with her around the clock and the Neighbourhood Policing Team’s been briefed to be extra vigilant. But from the history, don’t you think it likely Smallbone was acting
alone?’
    ‘Let’s hope so.’
    ‘Okay, we have a significant development regarding the shoe-print found at the letting agent’s, Rand and Co. I told you Haydn Kelly had established a match with shoeprints found in
Smallbone’s house.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘We’ve got a third match – from Eamonn Pollock’s yacht in Marbella. The Spanish police sent it yesterday and Haydn Kelly informed Norman Potting an hour ago!
There’s also other sets of shoeprints – from the patterns it appears three other people, not just Macario and Barnes, were on the boat recently.’
    Frowning, Grace said, ‘The match is to the ones in the letting agent’s and in Smallbone’s house?’
    ‘Yes. It’s only a shoe match, but if we could find the shoe—’
    Suddenly all Roy Grace’s tiredness had gone. ‘I know who those second shoeprints might have been made by.’ He leaned over the seatback and hefted his briefcase onto his lap.
From it he removed a small evidence bag containing a USB flash drive, and held it up triumphantly. ‘Yesterday, Gavin Daly’s son, Lucas, was recorded on videotape in an office in New
York admitting involvement in Aileen McWhirter’s robbery.’
    ‘Daly’s son – her nephew?’ he said, incredulously. ‘He was involved?’
    ‘Probably the mastermind behind it. Yes, he’s a regular charmer.’
    ‘Has he been arrested?’
    ‘No, he’s agreed to DS Batchelor and DC Alexander escorting him back to England. But he’s asked if they can wait a day or so until he knows what’s happening with his
father.’
    ‘Result!’ Glenn Branson said. ‘But – um – how exactly does that help us with the second set of shoeprints on the boat?’
    ‘We’ll need to get a search warrant and raid his house. And, I think you are going to like this. If we can put Lucas Daly on that boat, then I think we’ll know who the other
set belong to.’
    ‘How?’
    ‘Lucas Daly flew to Marbella with his henchman. I suspect they’re involved in