Dead at First Sight

63 Tuesday 9 October

Roy Grace, feeling exhausted, stood in the bathroom using his electric toothbrush. The toothache he’d had a week or so ago had gone away but was now back, and he needed to go and see his new dentist, Ian Pitman. He would phone for an appointment in the morning. The brush blip-blipped, telling him to move to his lower teeth.

Then Cleo called out to him. ‘Your job phone’s ringing!’

She brought it in. He switched off the toothbrush, hastily rinsed his mouth and answered. ‘Roy Grace?’

It was Norman Potting. ‘Chief, sorry to disturb you, we have a bit of a development.’

‘No problem, Norman. Tell me?’

‘The burner phone that was found on the suspect arrested near Toby Seward’s house was sent for urgent analysis, as I think Notmuch told you?’

‘He did.’

‘Aiden Gilbert from Digital Forensics just contacted me. At 9.33 p.m. tonight he had a number-withheld call from a male. Due to the life-and-death nature of the investigation we are carrying out, he decided it justified answering the call. When he answered, the gentleman asked who was speaking, and as soon as he replied, “Sussex Police”, the person hung up immediately. Gilbert said there was an O2 sim card in the phone. He put in an immediate RIPA request for a trace from the phone company.’

RIPA — the Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act of 2000 — gave the police the right to request immediate information about a phone call from the provider when there was a potential threat-to-life situation.

‘What information have they provided, Norman?’

‘We have the phone number — which is another burner — and the approximate location — within 250 square metres. It’s somewhere in Withdean Road, or possibly one of the adjoining properties in Dyke Road Avenue immediately to the south.’

Grace knew Withdean Road well. It was one of the most expensive residential areas in the city. Large houses in substantial grounds. He’d investigated a case in the same street a while back. All mobile phones sent out signals, constantly, whether in active use or simply switched on. All the phone companies had masts at spaced-out intervals. Using simple triangulation, any phone company, such as O2, could tell the approximate area where a phone was — and in a city that would be in the 250-square-metre range.

In a densely populated part of a city, that kind of range could cover hundreds of terraced houses and apartment blocks — making any kind of house-to-house search a logistical nightmare. But in an area of large, secluded properties, such as Withdean Road, it could be maybe a dozen — or even fewer — properties.

His tiredness instantly gone, he felt fully alert and excited. ‘I’m on my way, Norman. I’ll be with you in half an hour. See what you can find out about the Withdean Road properties within the area O2 have given you.’

‘It’s getting towards midnight, chief.’

‘So?’

‘I’ll get straight on it.’

‘Google Earth runs 24/7, Norman. Just like the villains we’re always trying to lock up. OK? And just like us, too. Put the kettle on, it’s going to be a long night’

‘Yes, chief.’

As Grace walked out of the bathroom, ready to explain to Cleo, she was standing in the bedroom holding up a fresh pair of underpants in one hand and a crisp white shirt in the other. With a resigned look on her face.

‘I love you,’ he said.

‘I know.’ She gave him a strange look. ‘I know.’ She shrugged.

He stood for a moment, looking back at her. ‘What?’

‘Go clean up those mean streets,’ she replied. ‘As you always do.’

He kissed her. ‘You OK?’

‘I’m OK.’

‘You’re not, are you?’

‘Maybe I could be more OK. Like, if you were coming to bed at midnight instead of going back out to work again. But that’s not what I married into, and I’m never going to complain.’ She shrugged again. ‘It’s just hard sometimes, you know, being the understanding wife, with a small baby and a South American dictator in the attic. That’s all.’