Dead at First Sight

47 Tuesday 9 October

The presence of Haydn Kelly at the noon meeting Roy Grace had convened brought a smile to his face. A wicked one. Kelly, a former Professor of Podiatry at Plymouth University, was the world’s leading authority on Forensic Gait Analysis. And he was, as the Stella Artois lager adverts used to say, ‘reassuringly expensive’.

Expensive enough to give ACC Cassian Pewe some serious pain.

Mid-forties, solidly built, with thinning, close-cropped hair, the Forensic Podiatrist was smartly attired as ever, today in a navy suit, crisp white shirt and striped tie. There was little about shoes he did not know, although, amusingly to the team, his own were usually in need of a clean. Kelly had pioneering software, which Grace had used on previous cases to considerable effect, enabling him to identify suspects from the way they walked, from just a single footprint.

Kelly travelled the world, much of the time in Asia, and was in constant demand by police forces everywhere. Grace needed him on his team for this investigation, and knew he was lucky the podiatrist had a gap in his schedule and was available to come down today.

‘I don’t think Professor Kelly needs much introduction to most of you,’ Grace said. ‘So, Haydn, what can you tell us about our suspect and his apparent liking for red footwear?’

‘Well,’ Kelly said, ‘it’s early doors, but from the very poor CCTV footage I’ve seen from Munich there appears to be a distinctive “N” on the shoes. That indicates the brand is New Balance. I’ve established they did produce a shoe in this colour last year. I see from your CSI luminol spray of the area that there are footprints in the front garden of the deceased Mrs Driver’s house which match the tread pattern of New Balance shoes manufactured in this red colour.’ He pointed at the wall-mounted monitor above the conference table, on which was displayed the zigzag tread pattern of a trainer, obtained from the Police National Footwear Database. ‘But as a caveat, this trainer was made in a range of colours. You have no CCTV from the area of your crime scene?’

Grace shook his head. ‘Mrs Driver’s immediate and near neighbours have been questioned. All we have to go on, at the moment, is a statement from one of the witnesses that she saw a man, who in her words looked African, running fast in red trainers shortly before hearing a car drive off at speed.’

‘Anything else that jumps out at you, Roy?’ Haydn Kelly asked. ‘Or any of your team?’

He faced a sea of shaking heads.

‘Professor, you’ve just seen the CCTV footage from Munich,’ Glenn Branson said. ‘What, as Sherlock Holmes might say to Watson, can you deduce from that?’

‘I’m afraid, at this stage, nothing too elementary. But I did deduce that the subject might easily be picked out in a crowd. He has a rather peculiar exaggerated arm swing and very distinctive rolling gait. Prior to this meeting I ran the footprints, taken from the deceased’s garden, through my software. They indicate a very similar gait, which would produce that same kind of arm swing. You have hundreds of CCTV cameras in your county, right? Of which close to one hundred are in this city. If your camera operators could pick out anyone in red trainers, I could analyse their gait from what I have, and very probably get a match that way.’

Roy Grace took on board what Kelly had to say, but he knew the immense size of the task. With just four operators on at any one time, how on earth could they trawl through all that footage effectively? But equally, he knew, this was the best shot they had. At least they had some criteria to narrow it down.

‘That was a famous movie, boss,’ Branson said.

‘Famous movie?’

‘The Red Shoes, 1948. Starred Moira Shearer.’

‘Is this relevant, Glenn?’

‘Not really, boss. Just saying.’