The man who had been identified by Terry’s geographic profile had been there at the trial of Susan Blanchard’s putative killer.
Fired with fresh enthusiasm, Steve ran down the stairs to the video suite. “Let’s roll,” he said. “He’s here somewhere, I know it.”
His patience was rewarded a mere ten minutes later. The second tape had picked up Coyne emerging from the trees at the side of the graveyard. He was wearing a dark suit, with collar and tie, appropriate to the occasion. He had hung back from the main body of mourners round the grave, staying on the fringes. A significant number of people had respected the family’s grief and stayed well back while Susan’s twins had thrown roses on their mother’s coffin and watched it lowered into the ground. But they had all dispersed fairly quickly after the ceremony was over. Coyne, conversely, had melted back into the trees then, when the last of the congregation was long gone, he had re-emerged and crossed to the path that led to Susan Blanchard’s grave.
Steve felt his pulse quicken as Coyne moved in slow motion down the path. As he drew level with the open grave, he didn’t so much as glance sideways. Instead, he continued along the path. Two graves along from Susan Blanchard, he stopped abruptly and turned to face that headstone. “Damn,” Steve swore softly. “We can’t see his face. I bet he’s looking at her grave. I’d put money on it.”
Coyne stood, head slightly bowed, for a couple of minutes, then he turned and went back the way he had come. There was nothing in his behaviour to suggest anything untoward. He could, if pressed, have claimed he’d delayed his planned visit to the grave near Susan’s because there was a funeral in progress. But taken in conjunction with his presence at the Old Bailey and the geographic profile, it was another brick in a circumstantial case that might yet prove sufficient to put him behind bars.
“I want you to print me a series of stills from that video,” Steve said. “The best views of his face. Blow them up so we get the best possible definition. I don’t want there to be any doubts about this.”
“No problem,” the techie said. “I suppose it’s urgent?”
“It’s urgent.” Steve was already heading for the door. He checked his watch. Teflon had a habit of finding excuses to be out of the office early on Friday afternoons, but he might just catch him.
Commander Telford was actually waiting for the lift that Steve emerged from. “I’m glad I’ve caught you, sir. I need to speak with you urgently about the Susan Blanchard case,” he said firmly.
“Can’t it wait, Superintendent? I’ve got an appointment.”
With a large gin and tonic, Steve thought cynically. “I’m afraid it won’t wait, sir. Perhaps you could call ahead and tell them you’ve been unavoidably delayed?”
Telford pursed his lips and snorted through his nose. “Oh, very well. But keep it as brief as you can.” He turned on his heel and marched back to his office.
Steve had barely closed the door behind him when Telford said, “What is it that’s so important, then?”
“We have a viable suspect in the Blanchard case, sir. It’s my intention to bring him in for questioning and search his premises. I thought you’d want to be kept informed.” He crossed to the visitor’s chair and sat down, ignoring the fact that Telford was still standing.
“Where has this come from?” Telford said, unable to hide his scepticism.
“If you remember, sir, you authorized a crime linkage and geographic profile based on cases with similar components. Using the results of that, my officers did a trawl of criminal records and we emerged with a likely name.”
“That’s it?” Telford interrupted. “You think that’ll stand up in court as a reasonable excuse for pulling someone in and turning over his home?”
“There is more, sir,” Steve said, biting back his frustration. “The suspect is a member of a cycling club and we have two witnesses who put a cyclist at the scene of the crime. Even more significantly, when I saw the suspect’s photograph, I recognized him. I had seen him before, sir. He was present at the Old Bailey when Francis Blake was in court. I’ve verified that from photographs taken there that day. And I’ve since examined the videos we took at Susan Blanchard’s funeral. He was there too. After the funeral, he walked past her grave. In my opinion, sir, we have enough circumstantial evidence to arrest him on suspicion of murder. And to conduct a search under Section Eighteen of PACE.” He held Telford’s eyes, willing him to agree. He knew his strength should be more than Telford’s weakness could withstand, but he’d never tested it in a head-to-head before. Maybe he should have done it months ago, when Telford had pushed through the decision to dump Fiona and use Horsforth. But he had backed down then, and the price had been too high for him to be comfortable with the idea that the same cost might be extracted again.
“It’s thin,” Telford complained. “And you’ve already come a cropper with this case. I don’t want another disaster on my hands.”
“We can keep the lid on it, sir. There’s no need to make any kind of announcement until we’re ready to charge him. Nobody need know about the arrest and search. I can keep it really tight just me and my immediate team.”
Telford shook his head. “You make a convincing case. But I want to run it past the AC Crime before we go any further.”
“But the AC’s on leave,” Steve protested. He could see his case slipping out of his grasp and he felt powerless to stop it.
“He’s due back on Monday morning. I suggest we have a meeting with him first thing. Until then, nothing must be done to alert the suspect.” Telford’s smile was genial. He’d found a way to pass the awkward buck, and he was happy. “We’ve waited long enough. Another couple of days won’t hurt.”
“That’s not good enough.” Steve could feel his cheeks flush with anger as Telford’s smile changed to a frown. “My team have worked all the hours God sends on this and I am not about to sacrifice our momentum. I propose leaving a message on the AC’s home phone so he can contact me for a briefing as soon as he gets back.”
“How dare you threaten to go over my head? You are out of order, Superintendent,” Telford shouted with all the bluster of a man who knows he is out of his depth.
Steve got to his feet. “That may be, sir. But this is my investigation and I will not jeopardize it. I’m prepared to take full responsibility.”
Faced with an implacability he could not shake, Telford immediately back-pedalled. “If you think it’s necessary, then do it. But you’d better be very sure of your ground if you’re going to disrupt the AC’s leave.”
“Thank you, sir,” Steve said, his tone bordering on the insolent. He left the room before his temper escaped his control, even managing not to slam the door. It wasn’t the result he’d hoped for, but at least he had side-stepped Teflon. The Assistant Commissioner for Crime wouldn’t be thrilled to come home from whatever foreign parts he was visiting to find an urgent message on his answering machine. But although he knew how to play politics as well as any other senior manager, the AC had been a far more courageous detective than Telford had ever managed. He would understand what was driving Steve. And, he felt sure, the AC would give him the go-ahead. Till then, he would have to keep the surveillance as low-key as possible.