The ACC answered, all charm. ‘Roy, so good of you to call me back. I trust this is not inconvenient?’
Swinging the seat back with his feet, Grace replied, ‘Not at all, sir.’
‘Good. So, last night you were back at our favourite haunt, eh?’
Grace thought for some moments before responding. Then decided to put Pewe on the defensive. ‘Good old Beachy Head, where I saved your life?’
He relished the hesitation in the man’s voice.
‘Exactly,’ he said finally. Another hesitation. ‘But, if I understand correctly, you did not obey my instructions, did you?’
‘You sanctioned the surveillance, sir.’
‘But you accept responsibility, correct?’
‘Correct, sir.’
‘Correct, Roy. A very good choice of words. Correct me if I’m wrong, but did your actions not result in the death of one person, the serious and possibly life-changing injuries to another and very nearly the loss of a member of your team?’
‘All completely correct, sir,’ Grace responded, unable to hold back the insolence in his voice. ‘But are you ignoring the fact that the first duty of a police officer is to protect and save lives, not solve crime?’
‘And you seriously think that’s what you were doing at Beachy Head last night?’
‘I do, yes, sir.’
‘Well, we’ll see what the IOPC have to say about that and whether they agree, which I very much doubt. I want you in my office at 9 a.m., sharp, Monday morning. I am seriously considering suspending you from your duties, pending investigation. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Enjoy your weekend, sir,’ Grace replied.
113
Roy Grace was surprised — although not that surprised, knowing his friend’s resilience — to see Glenn Branson, his eyes red and his face lacerated, with three sticking plasters across his cheeks and forehead, entering the conference room for the 5 p.m. briefing.
But he was even more surprised to be given an enthusiastic round of applause by the entire assembled group.
Blushing and grinning, he took a seat, putting his briefing notes and Policy Book on the table and raising his arms in a gesture of thanks.
‘You are all looking at a hero!’ Glenn Branson said. ‘He saved my life last night — even if the bugger did trash my suit in the process!’
‘I’m sure we can get you a new one out of police funds,’ Grace replied with a smile and a wink.
‘Not when they find out it came from Gresham Blake. Proper expensive.’
‘Are you going to keep whinging?’ Grace asked mischievously.
‘Nah, I’ll get over it.’
DS Alexander raised a hand. ‘Sir, we have a major update.’
‘Yes?’ Grace asked.
‘I’ve just heard from the interviewing officers and Eden is, surprisingly, cooperating fully with them and telling the whole story.’
‘Nice work,’ Grace said, relieved that at least one of Cassian Pewe’s gripes was now nixed.
Grace turned to the Crime Scene Manager. ‘Chris, as Eden Paternoster is under arrest, I’d like you and Lorna to take Search and Forensics Teams to Woodbury Cottage, Chiddingly, and see what you can find.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Gee said.
Emma-Jane Boutwood raised a hand. ‘Sir, there is one other small thing that’s come up.’
‘Which is, EJ?’
‘The Paternosters’ Burmese cat, Reggie,’ she said.
There were a few smiles.
‘Has that changed its name, too, EJ?’ Grace asked facetiously. ‘And its hairstyle?’
Several members of the team laughed.
The DC smiled. ‘No, sir. But since Niall Paternoster was arrested, their next-door neighbour has been looking after it, popping in every day to feed it — she has a key. But she phoned earlier this afternoon concerned, because she’s off to Cornwall on Monday to stay with her daughter and her family for the next month. So we need someone to take care of it — unless Eden is going to get police bail and return to the house, perhaps?’
‘That’s not going to happen,’ Grace said. ‘With the charges she’s facing, and her behaviour to date, she’s a flight risk. I think she’s going to be remanded in custody.’
‘In which case,’ EJ asked, ‘how are we going to look after the cat — another neighbour, perhaps? It’s quite a docile creature. If not, we’ll get it taken to a sanctuary — Raystede or somewhere like that.’
Grace knew that Cleo would jump at the chance of having a cat, she had been talking seriously about getting one only recently when she’d seen rodent droppings in their utility room — and mentioned that a bag of Humphrey’s biscuits had been gnawed open. ‘I might be able to help out, EJ,’ he said. ‘I know it’s not correct procedure, but I’ll speak to my wife and get back to you. I just need to ask her how she thinks our dog would get on with a cat.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
114
Cleo was thrilled about the idea of fostering the cat, even if it only turned out to be for a short while. She told Roy that Humphrey seemed to get on really well with cats — he’d loved playing with both her sister’s cat and her parents’ two tabby cats. And maybe this one would sort out the mouse problems she was increasingly certain they had.
Over the weekend, Grace had gone into the office several times, to arrange the interview strategy for Eden Paternoster and observe the interviews with Glenn Branson. He’d also briefed Norman Potting to arrange with the Magistrates’ Court a request for a warrant for further detention, which had been successful.
EJ had checked there was a cat carrier basket in the Paternosters’ house, and Grace planned to pick Reggie up on the way home. As he drove into the Police HQ just before 8.30 a.m., he reckoned he might be going home in less than an hour’s time if ACC Pewe carried out his threat to suspend him when they met this morning.
He parked behind the Major Crime building, then went into his office to check his email for any updates and, out of force of habit, the overnight serials — all the logged crime reports in the county.
Then at 8.50 a.m., wondering what awaited him, but surprised how relaxed he felt about what could be a career-changing meeting in ten minutes’ time, he stepped back out into glorious warm sunshine. As he did so, his private phone pinged. It was a text from Cleo.
Thinking of you XXX
He texted three hearts back, then headed down the hill towards the rear entrance of Malling House, which housed the Sussex Police brass and their key support staff.
As he approached, he was puzzled by the sight of two unfamiliar vehicles, dark-coloured Audi A6s, parked up outside the building. He clocked their licence plates, but neither were familiar, and he knew from memory the indexes of pretty much all of the local unmarked cars.
He walked past them and was about to enter the door when a burly man in a grey suit came through it. He was followed by Cassian Pewe, his face chalky white, then another tall man in a blue suit bringing up the rear.
‘Good morning, sir!’ Grace said to Pewe breezily. ‘I’m here for our—’
The ACC walked past stonily, without acknowledging him.
An instant later, the man in the grey suit opened the rear door of one of the Audis. As Pewe entered the side behind the passenger seat, the burly man pushed the ACC’s head down protectively. Then he closed the door. Blue Suit opened the door on the far side, slid in behind the driver’s seat and pulled the door shut.
Grey Suit then climbed into the driver’s seat. The car glided away, down towards the main entrance barrier, which rose as it approached. Then it was gone.