Dead Man's Time

about not recognizing her name – then quickly covered his tracks.’
    ‘I don’t remember seeing a Bulgari watch on the inventory of stuff that was taken, Roy?’
    ‘There wasn’t one.’ He started the engine. ‘I just wanted to rattle his cage a little – and then watch his eye movements on something he didn’t need to lie
about.’
    ‘Don’t you think we’ve enough to arrest him?’
    ‘We need something to place him at the crime scene,’ Grace said, driving off. He headed out of the industrial estate, and down towards the coast road back to Brighton.
‘Dupont’s involved, for sure. You saw that scab on his knuckle?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Maybe he left some blood at the scene. If SOCO find it, and we get a match, then we’ll have him banged to rights. And I’ve a feeling he could lead us to the other perps. He
looks a slimeball who’d sell anything, especially his colleagues, for a reduced sentence. If he’s left just one drop of blood there, however tiny, those two SOCOs will find
it.’
    ‘Dunno if I’m putting two and two together and getting five, Roy, but—’
    ‘That would be a lot more than we have on anything at the moment, Guy,’ Grace said with a grin.
    Batchelor grinned back. ‘I’m thinking about Bella’s report of her interview with Smallbone.’
    ‘I’ve been thinking about it, too.’
    ‘He had a black eye, and was missing some of his front teeth. Bella said it seemed to be hurting him to walk. He claimed he’d walked into his fridge door after a glass or two too
many.’
    ‘Oh yes? What was the fridge’s name?’
    ‘Exactly.’
    ‘The day after Aileen McWhirter is found, Ricky Moore is beaten up – tortured. A few days later, Amis Smallbone is beaten up. Maybe tortured too.’
    ‘Moore is linked to Aileen McWhirter’s house, and Smallbone has previous for this kind of crime,’ Grace said. ‘As does our slimy friend Gareth Dupont.’
    ‘What’s your hypothesis at this point, guv?’
    ‘Historic knocker-boy modus operandi is for them to case a place and if it’s got value higher than they can handle, they sell it on to someone for a cut. I’d say at this stage
it’s possible Ricky Moore passed the information to either Smallbone or Dupont. Old man Daly, Aileen’s brother, saw that leaflet. He might have taken the law into his own hands, had
Moore tortured for names – and was given Smallbone. So he had him tortured for names next.’
    The Detective Sergeant nodded. ‘I think we’re both on the same page, guv.’
    *
    Many things about policing these days really irked Roy Grace. High among them was parking. It used to be that on a major enquiry, you could park anywhere in the city. Not any
more. You had to park, like anyone else, legally. Which meant driving around until you found a car park with vacancies, and paying an exorbitant amount to leave the car there. What the cost was to
the taxpayer, in terms of parking fees, and police time, he had, in despair, long given up thinking about.
    He emerged with DS Batchelor from the Bartholomews seafront car park, and headed into the Lanes. They zig-zagged through the narrow alleyways, passing one landmark, the jewellery store of Derek
le-Warde. Then they reached the large shop, filled with a wide range of antiques including a stuffed ostrich, a George III writing desk, a gilded chandelier, and a display of Chinese vases, the
gilded sign above the door proclaiming: GAVIN DALY AND SON .
    They entered. Seated behind a glass display shelf in the centre of the room containing a range of tiny ornaments was a man in a wheelchair, with a short ponytail, tiny oval glasses, his head
tilted back, which gave him a hint of arrogance. He was dressed in a baggy Hawaiian shirt, with even baggier cavalry twill trousers.
    ‘Hello, gentlemen. Can I help you?’ His accent was Southern Irish.
    Grace showed him his warrant card. ‘Detective Superintendent Grace and Detective Sergeant Batchelor. We’d like to have a word with your proprietor, please. Mr Lucas Daly.’
    ‘Ah, I’m afraid he’s away right now – he’ll be back in on Monday.’
    ‘Do you know where he’s gone?’
    ‘Yes, he’s in Spain having himself a golfing weekend. Can I give him a message?’
    ‘Where in Spain has he gone?’
    ‘The south. Marbella.’
    Grace gave him his card. ‘Thank you – please ask him to call me on this number as soon as he gets back.’
    ‘Anything I can help you gentlemen with in the meantime?’
    ‘How much is