Hester Mancroft’s phone rang for so long that it cut out and went to voicemail. Twice. When she did finally answer, Jack explained that he’d texted an image to her mobile and he needed her to try and identify the man in military dress. Getting her to open the image, however, was like trying to get a cat to play the piano.
Meanwhile, Laura had FaceTimed Terence, having isolated the one relevant photograph so that Terence couldn’t see all of the case evidence. Laura could hardly keep a straight face as she listened to Jack in the background trying to explain to Hester how to view an image at the same time as speak — she accidently hung up on him once and he had to call her back.
Terence was certain that he didn’t recognise the man. ‘You know the uniform’s not British, don’t you?’
Jack looked up from his pointless conversation with Hester, who was currently running through Avril’s long list of old boyfriends to try and recall an army officer amongst them. ‘I collected militaria in my time,’ Terence continued. ‘It’s the only thing I did inherit from Father! This reminds me of the old Dutch get-up.’
Laura retained her composure, seeing as she was on FaceTime but, behind her back, she gave Jack the finger. She was about to win a free three-course lunch! She asked Terence if he was certain of the uniform’s origin.
‘Back in 2018, or 2017 maybe, the Dutch government encouraged people to join the armed forces by doing a campaign where they asked their serving military to wear their uniforms in the streets. Anyway, their current uniform is a modernised version of the one they wore in the seventies. That’s what’s in your photo.’
Laura thanked Terence for his help, wished him a good afternoon, then hung up. She spun round to Jack, wearing a huge grin. She sauntered towards him, ordering soup, followed by whatever the fish dish of the day was, ending with a double helping of Bakewell tart and custard, then perched on his desk swinging her feet. Jack held his mobile away from his ear to muffle the noise of Hester talking at him.
‘I didn’t hear Terence identify the man in the photo,’ Jack said.
‘Oh, come on. He’s Dutch. That’s more information than you’re getting. Could be Adam’s dad?’
‘Adam’s dad was a carpet salesman from London.’
‘Says who?’ Laura nodded towards Jack’s mobile. ‘Her?’
Hester suddenly became loud enough for Laura to hear despite not being on speaker.
‘Oh, I’ve opened the photo, DS Warr!’ There was a pause while she looked at it. ‘No, I’ve no idea who that is.’
Laura giggled her way back to her own desk, as Jack thanked Hester for helping. ‘I’m enlarging the insignia on this guy’s uniform to send to the Dutch military,’ she said. ‘I’ll let you know his name by lunchtime, Jack. Reserve me a table by the window.’
In his office, Ridley was himself now on speakerphone to Terence Jenkins, clarifying that Avril Jenkins’ body was ready to be released. Terence asked if Ridley would be attending the funeral. ‘Yes please, Mr Jenkins. Myself, DS Jack Warr and DCI Steve Lewis will be there, if you don’t mind.’
Steve paced the area in front of Ridley’s desk, hands behind his back, listening. Terence explained that it would only be a small gathering. He had two old friends he wanted to be there as support for him, and he thought it right to invite Avril’s immediate neighbours and a couple of her friends he knew of. He estimated that there would be no more than ten or twelve people. Terence went on to say that although probate was still pending, he was allowed to be in the property and, amongst other things, could finally create a definitive inventory. With this in mind, Terence then asked if he could host the wake at the house. Steve didn’t pause his prowling as he nodded to Ridley. ‘Yes, Mr Jenkins. You can have Avril’s wake in her home. Your home.’
As soon as Terence had hung up, Steve told Ridley what he was going to do. ‘We’ll run the cameras in the downstairs rooms during the wake and record every move of every person there. We might even change the outgoing loop to live action, so the drug dealers can watch too. Briefing in Staines? Zero eight hundred?’ Steve left with no further niceties, leaving Ridley’s door wide open.
Jack walked across and asked if he wanted it closing, as was his preference in recent months. ‘Leave it open. Thanks, Jack.’ Ridley screwed up his nose as though a terrible smell had just wafted his way. ‘He used the 24-hour clock. What a prick.’
Jack and Ridley shared their first smile in weeks.
Before he could turn and leave, Laura appeared behind Jack with a notepad in her hand and a smile on her face. She’d found another piece of their complex puzzle. ‘Jessica Chi. Daughter of Henrick and Matilda Chi, née Dovrick. Both alive and well and living in an artists’ commune in Amsterdam. They’re currently unaware of their daughter’s death. This, together with the Dutch military uniform on that bloke standing next to Avril in the photo might just be adding up to a trip to Amsterdam, sir.’
Ridley quickly agreed. The notification of death definitely had to be done face to face and in conjunction with the Dutch police.
As Laura was quietly running through her wardrobe in her head to see if she needed to shop before flying out, Ridley announced that, first thing tomorrow, he’d get Anik back from Staines and send him to Amsterdam. Laura’s chin almost hit the floor.
‘I need you running the show here, Laura, whilst Jack and I are at Avril’s funeral. The press release announced her death was the result of a robbery gone wrong. There’s an undercover presence at her home, but no uniforms. To the outside world, everything’s back to normal at that house. It’s the exact time for someone to get complacent... and it’s not going to be us.’
Chapter 18
The chef’s curly brown hair was scraped back off her face and hidden beneath a hair net. She was unpacking and arranging four different types of shop-bought canapés onto large silver platters ready to be taken out into the small gathering of mourners. Two waitresses, dressed immaculately in black and white, waited for their instructions. They all looked the part, down to the last detail — if it hadn’t been for the earpiece, barely visible beneath the chef’s hairnet, no one would have suspected that they were all Drug Squad... as was the gardener raking leaves from the front lawn and the woman waiting at the bus stop on the main road at the end of the private lane entrance. She could clearly see any passenger getting off buses in both directions and would radio in to the duty officer outside Avril’s house.
In the driveway, a white catering van was tucked against the bushes out of the way. This also belonged to the Drug Squad. Inside the van, Moley and Sergeant Mike Tulley monitored the system of hidden cameras inside the property. As planned, the external feed from the cameras was now live rather than looped footage, just in case any of the drug dealers were watching.
Ridley stood near the open fireplace in the drawing room, holding a champagne flute filled with fresh orange juice. From there, he could see the front door where Terence diligently met every guest and directed them to the circling waitresses, one carrying canapés and the other carrying a tray of champagne flutes. Ridley could also see the bottom of the staircase, which had been blocked by a red barrier rope, making the upstairs look mysterious, like the private area in a nightclub or exclusive bar, rather than the scene of a horrific murder.
Jack had positioned himself at the opposite end of the room, so he could watch all of the cars arriving. He could see Hester Mancroft sitting alone in a far corner of the drawing room, looking at the photograph of Avril chosen to adorn the front of the order of service. She cried quietly behind a freshly ironed hanky. Her seat was surrounded by a few of bouquets of flowers, all of which were destined for the old people’s home on Kingston Hill. Jack wanted to go and ask if she was OK, but he couldn’t risk getting stuck talking to her. If the day passed uneventfully, he’d spend a little time with Hester before she journeyed back to Hove.