‘I feel like I’ve robbed you of a golden opportunity,’ Anna said ruefully.
‘There’s always next year and you deserve my place better than anyone else I know. You’ll be at the top of the ladder long before me.’
‘I’m only where I am now because I’ve had you and Langton to guide me.’ Anna looked at her old boss with affection.
‘It seems strange taking up Langton’s role and overseeing the old team,’ Mike admitted. ‘Quite daunting really. Am I doing all right so far?’
Anna gave him a warm smile. ‘Yes, sir, you are doing just fine.’
Chapter Fifteen
When Anna arrived at the office the following morning, Dewar and Barolli had already left to go and do the house-to-house enquiries in Bayswater.
‘I checked out Josh’s Oyster-card usage – trips here and there on the Underground and bus but nothing on the fifth of November,’ Joan said.
‘I rang Marcus Williams yesterday and arranged to see him at the Trojan today,’ Anna told her. ‘I asked about Josh owning a car and Williams said he cycled to work and only used public transport if the weather was atrocious.’
‘Interesting, there’s never been any mention of a bike before,’ Joan observed.
‘And there’s no bike in the scene photographs taken at Josh’s flat.’
‘Could it still be at the Trojan? Williams said Josh left on foot the last time he saw him.’
‘I’ll ask Williams about it later,’ Anna assured her, looking up as a uniform officer carrying two large security-sealed folder bags entered.
‘Bank courier just delivered these for DI Barolli,’ he said, gazing around the room. Anna introduced herself as the team DCI and the officer handed the bags to her.
Settling herself at Barbara’s desk, she proceeded to cut the ratchet tags off the bags and opened them. Inside one were two folders, marked JOSHUA REYNOLDS – TROJAN ACCOUNT STATEMENTS and JOSHUA REYNOLDS – PERSONAL ACCOUNT STATEMENTS. The second bag contained bank statements for Donna Reynolds, Marcus Williams and the Trojan club. Anna decided to concentrate on the six-month period prior to Josh’s death. She opened Josh’s personal account folder, noting that his account was eight thousand pounds in credit at the time he of his death and that there appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary.
As Barbara came into the room, Anna started to pick up the folders to move to another desk but the sergeant said it was fine and pulled up a spare chair so that she could see everything as well.
‘On the twelfth of September, there was a debit-card payment for a hundred and thirty-three pounds at the BP service station Park Lane,’ Anna said, making a note then turning to Joan. ‘Look up Donna’s Mini Cooper, I need the exact model and engine size.’
Joan typed the registration DON4L into the computer and discovered it was a manual 1.6 Sport. Anna, sensing they were on to something, entered the Mini’s details into the search engine on Barbara’s computer. ‘Is it a petrol or diesel?’
‘Petrol,’ Joan replied.
‘Thinking of buying one?’ Barbara asked.
‘Have you got a calculator?’ Anna asked and Barbara got one out of her top drawer.
‘Put in fifty times one point three eight. What’s that come-’
‘Sixty-nine,’ Joan answered before Barbara had even hit the equal button on the calculator. They both looked at Joan, Anna impressed and Barbara surprised.
‘I love the numbers game on Countdown.’ Joan shrugged.
‘If Josh was using Donna’s Mini, which costs about seventy quid to fill with petrol, why is he spending a hundred and thirty-three at the garage?’ Anna wondered.
‘He could have got some groceries as well if it was one of those express shopping garages,’ Barbara said.
‘Good point,’ Anna agreed.
‘In that case,’ said Joan, ‘I’ll phone them and ask exactly what they sell there.’
Turning back to the folder, Anna saw that on 5 October, at the same service station, there was a transaction for £110.
‘That place is on a direct route that Josh could use to travel to the Trojan,’ Barbara said as she checked the exact location of the service station.
Anna went further back through the records. ‘Looking at this, Josh and Donna’s average weekly spend for food was sixty to seventy pounds and nearly always in the Tesco supermarket near the Bayswater flat.’
Barbara leaned over Anna’s shoulder to look at the figures, which Anna found irritating, but forced herself to say nothing, realizing Barbara was just being inquisitive.
The sergeant suddenly tapped on the statement. ‘Look there, just after the debit of one hundred and ten pounds. October eighth, a payment to National Car Parking of nine hundred and twenty-eight pounds!’ she exclaimed.
Anna looked closer and realized that in concentrating on food and petrol she had missed the National Car Parking debit. ‘It could be Josh paid for a NCP parking account for Donna’s Mini when she went to work at the Lynne Foundation office in Mayfair,’ Joan suggested.
Anna shook her head. ‘The Foundation would probably have its own parking, or pay for it through the company accounts.’
Further down the statement there was a payment of £308 to F1 Services on 10 October, so to get Barbara away from her shoulder, Anna asked her to phone the NCP head office and get full details of the account and car park to which Josh’s payment referred, and to find out who F1 Services were.
Meanwhile, Joan had ascertained that the Park Lane BP did have a mini-market but sold a limited selection of everyday products like milk and bread.
Turning the page, Anna was excited to find a debit dated 5 November that read Tesco Extra UPT, Beverley Way, for £125. As Barbara was on the phone, Anna showed this to Joan to see if she knew what the initials meant, but she didn’t.
Barbara put down the receiver. ‘NCP can’t give us an answer right away so I’ve given them all the details and they’ll get back to us asap.’
Anna thanked her but she hadn’t finished.
‘Unattended Payment Terminal, UPT for short – it’s when you pay at the pump by debit or credit card for your petrol. It baffled me on one of my statements so I checked it with my bank,’ Barbara said smugly.
‘Tesco Extra, Beverley Way, is in New Malden on the A3,’ Joan observed, turning to her colleagues.
‘Donna had the Mini that day. Josh had to be filling up with petrol and either has a car we don’t know about or borrowed one,’ Anna said.
‘If Donna was at the Savoy, could Josh have borrowed her car in the afternoon without her knowing?’ Barbara asked.
‘Possible but unlikely – a Mini takes roughly sixty to seventy pounds to fill, not a hundred and twenty-five.’
‘So whatever car he was using must be big, like an SUV maybe,’ Barbara suggested.
‘I’ll check Josh Reynolds’ name on the motor-insurance database,’ said Joan. ‘If he was insured to drive they’ll be able to give us a make and model of the car.’
‘Thanks, Joan. Run Donna Reynolds and Marcus Williams as well,’ Anna added.
For a short while the room fell silent except for the tapping of fingertips on keyboards.
‘Right,’ said Joan. ‘Nothing recorded for Josh, and Donna is just insured for the Mini with Josh listed as a named driver. Insurance runs out in September this year. Williams is insured for a Bentley Continental GT as from January this year.’
‘So no fresh leads there,’ muttered Anna, frowning as she returned to the private account statements to see if there was anything she had missed. She thought it most strange that neither Donna nor Marcus Williams seemed to know anything about Josh having or borrowing a car, and realized this made it all the more important to find out exactly where Josh had gone on the afternoon of the fifth.
By mid-morning, Barolli and Dewar had completed their enquiries at the Bayswater flats. They had spoken with all the residents except the occupants of flat three, who were, according to a neighbour, away on a cruise holiday and not due back for two weeks. No one they spoke to had seen or heard anything unusual and only ever recalled seeing the Josh and Donna in a blue Mini convertible. Some added Josh had a silver racing-style bicycle that he often used.