Dead at First Sight

99 Friday 12 October

Now parked just behind a bus stop lay-by on the far side of the clifftop road above Brighton Marina, two hundred yards to the east of the apartment block, where he had moved over two hours ago, Tooth maintained his vigil in the van. Oblivious to the cold, he sat pretty much motionless, just occasionally switching on the wipers. He was still nauseous.

The only thing that gave him any pleasure was the red NO SMOKING roundel fixed to the van’s dash. He shook out yet another Lucky Strike and lit it. After a few drags he flicked the ash into the footwell, where it fell on the pile of butts that had accumulated during the night.

A few hundred yards to the west, DC Hall and DC Wilde sat in their silver Ford Focus, in the parking bay of another, smaller block of flats, with a clear view but out of sight of the Polo parked at Marina Heights. They had relieved the Road Policing Officer, PC Trundle, almost eight hours earlier. In the breaking light they could see the skeletal structure of a gasometer a short distance to their left.

Kevin Hall, struggling to keep awake, periodically ran the engine to crank the heating up and drained the last of the coffee, that had long gone cold, from his thermos flask. Beside him, DC Wilde mostly occupied herself with her phone, exchanging texts with her partner who was a nurse on night shift in West Sussex, and occasionally showing him jokes and videos that a friend was sending her on WhatsApp. Several of them were of questionable political correctness, but they sure helped pass the time.

He winced at one she showed him, captioned, ‘If you ever moan about a splinter...’ It showed a young man, lying on what looked like a hospital trolley, with the sharp, thin shoot of a tree branch lancing his scrotum and emerging from his stomach just above his navel.

‘Yech! How did the poor sod end up like that, Velvet?’ Hall asked her.

She shrugged, then in her rich Belfast accent said, ‘Guess he branched out from whatever he was doing.’

He laughed. ‘You are one sick puppy!’

She replied, ‘I’m taking that as a compliment.’

A few minutes later they saw a flatbed truck, with a winch in the rear, pull up at the entrance to the underground car park of Marina Heights. On the side of the vehicle were emblazoned the words, SUSSEX TYRE & BREAKDOWN SERVICES.

Hall was hoping against hope that an arrest would be made today. Tomorrow his team, Reading, were playing a crucial game against Queens Park Rangers and he wanted to be there in the crowd to lend his voluble support.

The garage doors opened and the truck drove down the ramp.

He called Comms and asked for the duty Oscar-1. Inspector Mark Evans came on the line. ‘Charlie Romeo Six Four Zero?’

‘Sir, a truck has just entered Marina Heights underground car park, from a company called Sussex Tyre & Breakdown Services. Can you find out who has requested it?’

‘SUSSEX TYRE & BREAKDOWN SERVICES?’

‘Yes yes.’

‘I’ll get it checked and come back to you, Charlie Romeo Six Four Zero.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

Tooth watched as the garage door lowered seconds after the breakdown truck had descended. Wondering. Had it been called to fix a flat tyre?

He put his hand into his inside pocket, pulled out his gun and deactivated the safety catch. If he was right in his assumption, Copeland would be emerging soon. And he would be ready. The fuel would carry Copeland no more than a few hundred yards from the entrance — if that far.