Not Dead Yet

me.’
    ‘How?’
    ‘I don’t know.’ He sat down in front of Grace, looking dejected. ‘How was your weekend?’
    For a change, Grace had had a peaceful weekend. Just two short briefings on Operation Icon , and the rest of the time he had spent with Cleo. They’d gone shopping on Saturday and bought stuff for the baby’s room, had a takeaway curry on Sunday, watched a couple of movies, and in between read some of the papers. One of Cleo’s extravagances, which he liked, was that she had virtually every English Sunday paper, from lowbrow to highbrow, delivered every week.
    It was a fine day, and she had insisted they go out for fresh air to their favourite place, the undercliff walk at Rottingdean, and she had managed the entire length of it. It really seemed the problems with a sudden bleed that she’d had a few weeks ago were a thing of the past. Just a few more weeks to go before she was due.
    She would stop work at the end of this week. Most of the rest of Sunday he’d spent on the sofa with her as she worked on her Philosophy studies, and he’d gone through all the trial papers on the Carl Venner case, which opened at the Old Bailey this morning.
    He reached out and took his friend’s massive black hand. It was hard as a rock, like gripping a piece of ebony. All the same, he squeezed it. ‘Don’t let her get you down, matey. Okay?’
    Glenn squeezed back.
    Grace said nothing. He could see the big, tough guy he loved so much was close to tears.

77
    ‘The time is 8.30 a.m., Monday, June the thirteenth. This is the seventeenth briefing of Operation Icon ,’ Roy Grace said to his team in the Conference Room. ‘Does anyone have any progress to report since our briefing of yesterday morning?’
    Annalise Vineer raised her hand. ‘Yes, chief. I’ve been going through the list of members of the West Sussex Piscatorial Society supplied to me by their secretary, and the list of all people who had any involvement with this club. I’ve found someone with a link to Stonery Farm.’
    ‘You have?’ Grace said. ‘Well done – tell us!’
    ‘I don’t know if it’s of any significance, but Stonery Farm and the West Sussex Piscatorial Society use the same firm of Brighton accountants, Feline Bradley-Hamilton. There’s one name in particular that’s common to both, which is an auditor employed by this firm, a man by the name of Eric Whiteley. He has carried out the annual audit for both the farm and the club for several years.’
    Grace wrote the name down. ‘I’m not familiar with how auditors work,’ he said. ‘Would he have been to the premises of both?’
    ‘Well, he goes to the office at Stonery Farm each year. The Piscatorial Society secretary was unable to tell me whether Whiteley has ever actually been to the lake that the Piscatorial Society own. But he is their principal contact.’
    ‘How many employees are there at these accountants, Feline Bradley-Hamilton?’ Grace asked.
    ‘Fourteen, sir,’ Annalise Vineer replied. ‘There are four partners, the rest are employees.’
    ‘So anyone from this firm would have access to information about Stonery Farm and the Piscatorial Society, presumably?’ Grace quizzed.
    ‘Presumably, sir, yes,’ she replied.
    Grace felt excited; at last he had something concrete to work onnow. And his instincts were telling him that while the perpetrator was not necessarily part of this accountancy firm, there was the possibility of a lead coming from here. ‘So we can’t be sure Eric Whiteley would be the only one in the firm who knows where the lake is?’
    ‘No, sir. But certainly he’s the only one who visits Stonery Farm on a regular basis.’
    ‘And that’s the only match you have? The only person common to both?’
    ‘Yes, it is, sir.’
    ‘Is the club secretary able to tell you anything about this Eric Whiteley?’
    ‘Not much, sir. Says he’s a quiet, unassuming man who just turns up at the secretary’s house every year, by appointment, to get the paperwork signed off. He doesn’t talk much, apparently.’
    ‘Okay, first things first, we should interview everyone in the firm who’s been there more than six months. I want two trained interviewers –’ He looked at the faces around him.
    Glenn raised a hand. ‘Boss, I’d like to suggest Bella and I do the interview. Big if , but, if this Eric Whiteley, or anyone else at the accountancy firm, should turn out to be the perp, he might react – and be thrown a bit – by having seen us