Not Dead Enough

man’s fillings out five miles away.
    It was far too loud for him to hear Glenn Branson’s shouts and curses as he drove away.

108
    There was a brown envelope lying on Roy Grace’s desk when he walked in, just before seven, with an explanatory note from Bella Moy taped on top, stating these were the certificates for Brian Bishop he had requested. She had also written down the name and contact details of a post-adoption counsellor who, she said, had previously helped the local police through the obstacle course of finding out information on adopted people.
    Inside were two creased, oblong documents, about six inches high and a foot wide. They were on yellowing paper with red printing, and handwritten details inserted in black fountain-pen ink. He unfolded the first one. It was headed: Certified Copy of an Entry of Birth. Under that were a series of columns.
     
    When and Where Born: Seventh September, 1964 at 3.47 a.m. Royal Sussex County Hospital, Brighton
    Name, if any: Desmond William
    Sex: Boy
    Name and Surname of Father:
    Name and Maiden Surname of Mother: Eleanor Jones
     
    Then, in a space at the extreme right, was written Adopted . It was signed Albert Hole , Superintendent Registrar .
    Grace then unfolded the second document. It was headed: Certified Copy of an Entry in the Records of the General Register Office . At the very bottom of the document were the words, Certified Copy of an Entry in the Adopted Children Register .
    Then he read along the columns.
     
    Date of Entry: Nineteenth September, 1964
    Name of Adopted Child: Brian Desmond
    Sex of Adopted Child: Male
    Name and Surname, Address and Occupation of Adopter or Adopters: Mr Rodney and Mrs Irene Bishop, 43 Brangwyn Road, Brighton. Company director.
    Date of Birth of Child: Seventh September, 1964
    Date of Adoption Order and Description of Court by which Made: Brighton County Court
    Signature of Officer Deputed by Registrar General to attest the entry: Albert Hole.
     
    He read both documents through again carefully, absorbing the details. Then he looked at his watch. It was too early to call the post-adoption counsellor, so he decided he would do it straight after the eight-thirty briefing.

    ‘Loretta Leberknight,’ she answered in a warm, gravelly voice.
    Grace introduced himself and explained briefly what he was looking for.
    ‘You want to try to find out if this Brian Bishop has a twin?’
    ‘Exactly,’ he replied.
    ‘OK, what information do you have on him?’
    ‘I have his birth certificate and what appears to be an adoption certificate.’
    ‘Is it a long birth certificate or a short one?’
    Grace described it to her.
    ‘Good,’ she said. ‘It’s the long one – more information on it. Now, there’s usually one sure way to tell – if the birth is in England and Wales. Is it?’
    ‘Yes, he was born in Brighton.’
    ‘Can you read out to me what it says under When and Where Born ?’
    Grace obliged.
    ‘It says, Seventh September, 1964 at 3.47 a.m. ?’ she checked.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And the place of birth is given as where?’ she asked, checking again.
    ‘Brighton. The Royal Sussex County Hospital.’
    ‘You have the information right there!’ She sounded pleased.
    ‘I do.’
    ‘In England and Wales the time of birth in addition to the date of birth is only put down for multiple births. From that information, Detective Superintendent, you can be 100 percent certain that Brian Bishop has a twin.’

109
    Minutes after its ten a.m. opening time, Nick Nicholl walked through the entrance scanner poles and into the handsome, pastel-blue room of the Brighton Reference Library. The smells of paper, leather and wood reminded him of school, but he was so exhausted from yet another virtually sleepless night, courtesy of his son, Ben, that he barely took in his surroundings. He walked over to the inquiry desk and showed his warrant card to one of the librarians, explaining what he needed.
    Five minutes later the young detective was seated, beneath the domed and stuccoed ceiling, in front of one of a bank of microfiche units, holding a rectangle of film with a red band along the top which contained the register of births in the whole of the UK for the third quarter of 1964. He inserted it the wrong way around three times, before finally getting the hang of the reader. Then he fiddled with the jerky controls, trying to scroll through the lists of first names beneath surname headers, in print that was almost too small and blurry