‘Indeed, but neither is there any kind of fence or safety barrier,’ responded Clarke. She paused. Thinking. Knott voiced her thoughts before she quite got to them.
‘Pretty easy to push someone in there, though, ma’am,’ he said. ‘Particularly if that someone is already injured and a bit groggy.’
The super smiled. ‘That’s as may be, Sergeant Knott,’ she said. ‘But we have no evidence at all yet to indicate such a thing, do we?’
‘Of course not, ma’am,’ replied Knott. ‘But we do know who he is and where he came from, and that he was already wanted by Somerset police in connection with arson, don’t we, ma’am?’
‘We almost certainly do, Knott.’
‘So I can’t help wondering what he was doing wandering along by the lock side. We don’t even have any idea what he was doing in Brentford, do we, boss? Not yet, anyway.’
‘No, we don’t,’ said Clarke. ‘But we know he must have come more or less straight here after he walked out of that hospital in Taunton. He’s been in the water getting on for twenty-four hours, Dr Fitzwarren thinks. That means he must have headed up here pretty much as soon as he legged it from the hospital. So why would he come here so quickly? And make quite a long journey when he must have been in significant discomfort, at the very least.’
‘To meet someone, ma’am?’
‘That was my first thought.’
‘Or maybe he has family here.’
‘Ah yes, good thinking, Knott,’ said Nobby Clarke. ‘OK, I’m going to get my team on door-to-door work. The pub obviously. The Brentford Dock estate. The shops and all the various businesses in the high street. Find out if anyone saw George Grey or knows anything about him. Indeed, if anyone around here knew him at all before whatever happened here.’
She paused for just a few seconds. ‘Any hotels hereabouts?’
‘There’s a new Premier Inn, just a couple of hundred yards away, a Holiday Inn up at Brentford Lock, and a Travelodge a bit further off towards Kew Bridge.’
‘Right, we’ll make them a priority too. If Grey wasn’t staying in one of those, maybe he was meeting someone that was.’
She turned to DC Springer. ‘OK, Lloyd, over to you,’ she said. ‘Let’s call in the troops and get on with it. And we’ll need all the help you local lads can give us too, Sergeant Knott.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Knott.
He’d heard of Nobby Clarke, of course. Her reputation, and the stories about her somewhat unusual name, went before her. The truth was he was more than a little tickled to find himself given the opportunity to work with her.
Fourteen
It was late afternoon when Vogel received the call.
His caller’s opening words were: ‘How are you, you old devil? Still boring the arse off everyone you work with.’
He recognised the voice at once, of course. And as ever, he felt his pulse quicken.
‘I’m well, thank you very much for asking, boss,’ he said. ‘How are you?’
He found that he was smiling. Det. Supt. Nobby Clarke always seemed to make him smile. And he still missed working with her on a day-to-day basis, as he had in the Met. Clarke had headed an MIT team and he had been her number two. When it came to his fellow officers, Vogel didn’t care whether they were men, women, transgender, or giraffes. All that mattered to him was that they were good at their jobs. And Nobby Clarke was almost certainly the best he had ever worked with.
‘I’ve got a bit of news for you, and when I want you to know how I am, I’ll tell you,’ reposted Clarke.
Vogel felt his smile widening. ‘Whatever you say, boss,’ he said.
‘Good. I think we’ve found that missing person you’re after, George Grey, re the Blackdown Manor fire. They tell me you’re SIO.’
‘Deputy SIO—’
‘Really?’ interrupted Clarke. ‘Since when have you been able to tell the difference?’
Vogel ignored the interruption. He couldn’t wait to hear the rest of Clarke’s news.
‘That’s great, boss,’ he said. ‘I really think Grey might be the key to it all. We certainly need to give him the tenth degree. Where is he? I hope you’ve got the slippery bastard somewhere safe?’
‘Oh yes, Vogel, we’ve got him somewhere safe, all right. In the morgue. I’m afraid your Mr Grey is dead. He’s not going to be doing any more talking, and if he proves to be the key to anything it’ll have to be posthumously.’
‘You’re kidding, boss.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Vogel. Of course, I’m not kidding. And what else have I told you repeatedly?’
‘Not to call you boss, boss.’
‘Well done, detective inspector. And I told you that when I was your boss. It’s even worse now.’
‘Sorry...’
Vogel paused. Why did she always have to do this? The woman seemed to take a perverse pleasure in teasing him. Or he assumed that’s what it was. He found it particularly frustrating on this occasion as she was making him wait for information she knew he was extremely eager for.
‘I’m still here, Vogel.’
‘Sorry, Nobby,’ he said.
He was sure he heard the DS chuckle. He would never be comfortable with calling a female senior detective, who was tall, blonde, and rather elegant, Nobby. Vogel couldn’t help it. That was just the way he was. Everybody else seemed able to deal with it well enough. Not Vogel. But he did his best.
‘So, what happened, and where did you find him, b — Nobby?’ he asked.
‘We don’t know what happened. Not yet, anyway. We found him earlier this afternoon at the bottom of Thames Lock at Brentford. His body caused the lock gates to snag.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ said Vogel. ‘Do you know how long he’d been in there?’
‘Not exactly, but it seems likely it was approaching twenty-four hours, which means he must have made his way to Brentford straight after walking out of hospital.’
The DS briefly went over what Pat Fitzwarren had said concerning George Grey’s condition, and the time and possible cause of death.
‘So, we don’t know a lot, Vogel,’ she said. ‘But we’ve launched a major investigation, obviously. It’s possible that your man’s death could be an accident, and if the deceased had been almost anyone except someone already wanted in connection with a major murder investigation, indeed a possible suspect, then accidental death would probably have been our first thought. Particularly as the whole area is a health and safety nightmare. There’s a pub just across the way, via a couple of bridges, a narrow walkway, and an unguarded stretch along the lockside, which is almost certainly where he entered the water. There’s a big housing estate, Brentford Dock, on the other side of the lock, and a lot of the residents use that pub as their local. The general consensus of opinion is that it’s a miracle more people, half-pissed, don’t end up in the drink here. It’s not easy walking. But as far as your George Grey’s untimely demise is concerned, there are far too many coincidences and unanswered questions for us to regard it as likely to be an accident. I am treating this as a suspicious death, Vogel, and the investigation will proceed accordingly.’
‘Too right, boss,’ said Vogel.
‘Yes. Now this is your case. Or that’s the way I see it, anyway. And we seem to have found your major lead, who may not be much use to you himself, but there must be someone around here who knows your man and a heck of a lot else besides, I shouldn’t wonder. I think you should get yourself up here, Vogel, first thing tomorrow at the latest, unless you’ve got something more important to do down there in the sticks?’
‘No,’ said Vogel. ‘I haven’t.’
‘OK, do you want me to clear it with your super?’
‘Yes, please, boss, I mean... N-Nobby,’ said Vogel, as usual hesitating over the name.