Left You Dead

81

For some moments no one in the conference room spoke. The silence was briefly broken by the sound of Abba’s ‘Dancing Queen’ bursting out of a phone and being rapidly shut off. Roy Grace looked at a red-faced Jack Alexander.

‘Sorry, boss — Kaitlynn put it on my phone as a joke. Thought I’d got rid of it.’

The silence resumed, to be broken again by Grace exclaiming, ‘A tracker under the Paternosters’ BMW, which must have been there before we seized the vehicle? What is that about?’

‘Bennion-Jones told me it was a TKSTAR — a good brand, waterproof, with a three-month battery life,’ Lorna Dennison-Wilkins informed him.

‘A tracker under the Paternosters’ car,’ Grace repeated, more calmly now. ‘So who put it there? Niall Paternoster? Eden? Someone external — not the police, so far as we know — but we need to check that.’ He turned to Potting. ‘Norman, I’ll give you the action of eliminating the police from putting it there.’

‘Yes, chief.’

Grace was pensive again, then said, ‘Whoever put it there wanted to see where the car was going. This was a vehicle that both husband and wife shared. Did one of them place it there and, if so, which one? And why? Or could it have been someone else altogether?’

He looked around a sea of faces deep in thought. ‘Lorna, did JBJ give you any sense of whether this is a rare or common tracker?’

‘He said it was one of a number widely available, sir. This particular one costs around thirty pounds — it’s sold in a lot of shops and on Amazon.’

‘Do we know if it was active or dormant?’ Grace asked. ‘Could it have been there for years perhaps, from a previous owner of the vehicle?’

She shook her head. ‘He said it’s a recently upgraded version that’s only been on the market for a couple of months.’

‘OK, well that might help us find out where it was bought from and by who.’

Martyn Stratford called out, ‘Sir.’

‘Yes, Martyn?’

‘I’ve just looked up this product,’ he said, nodding at his laptop screen. ‘There seem to be a very large number of retailers — including Amazon, as Lorna just mentioned.’

Grace made a note. They needed to check the Paternosters’ laptops for Amazon purchase history. ‘Let’s hypothesize for now that it’s either Niall or Eden Paternoster who has put this there. For what reason?’

Norman Potting raised his arm and caught Grace’s eye. ‘There’s normally only one, chief. Suspected cheating.’

‘So speaks the expert!’ said Kevin Hall. His remark was greeted with laughter, which momentarily broke the unusually sombre mood of the team.

Potting raised his arms and took a bow by twirling his hands.

‘So, taking your point, Norman,’ Grace said. ‘Who has suspected who here? Husband or wife? What—’

Grace’s phone rang. Glancing at the display, he saw it was Mark Taylor again. ‘This might be important,’ Grace apologized, answering it.

It was.

‘Sir,’ Mark Taylor said. ‘Just to give you a heads-up. The lady got out of her Range Rover to kiss lover boy goodbye. We’ve got some good photographs of her, I’m pinging them through to you now.’

As he spoke, Grace felt his phone vibrate, signalling an incoming email. ‘Nice work, Mark.’

‘Lover boy’s walking back to his car. He’s looking pretty happy with himself, if you get my drift, sir?’

‘Like he’s had a happy ending?’

‘Well — exactly.’

It took a few moments for the photographs to finish downloading. When they had, Roy Grace was staring at a woman in her mid-to-late thirties, with short, stylish fair hair that was looking a bit ruffled. She reminded him a little of the actress Sienna Miller — she had a certain beauty, but a hard edge to her face. He handed the phone to Branson, telling him to pass it round. ‘We believe this lady may be called Rebecca Watkins,’ Grace said. ‘Niall Paternoster’s girlfriend. I’d like you all to take a look at her. Rebecca Watkins. Anyone recognize her?’

Everyone in turn studied it carefully, each of the team shaking their heads, until it got to Polly. She stared at it rigidly for several seconds. Then she looked directly at Roy Grace. ‘I thought I recognized the name, sir. Now, seeing her face, I’m even more sure. I interviewed her along with a bunch of other people at Eden Paternoster’s employers, Mutual Occidental Insurance. If I’m right, Rebecca Watkins is Eden Paternoster’s line manager — her boss.’

‘You’re sure, are you, Polly?’ Roy Grace asked.

She hastily looked at her notebook.

There was a short silence. Just the sound of Martyn Stratford tapping his keyboard, who then looked up. ‘I can confirm that Rebecca Watkins works for Mutual Occidental.’ He held up his laptop, showing a photograph of the woman, looking even more severe in a dark business suit and white ruff collar.

There was little doubt in anyone’s mind it was the same person as the one in the photographs that had just been sent through to Grace’s phone.

A moment later, Polly confirmed it.