Dead at First Sight

71 Wednesday 10 October

‘Interesting, don’t you think, boss, that “biometrics” and “bang to rights” have the same first and last letter?’ Branson said.

Grace frowned at him. ‘“Biometrics” is one word, Glenn. “Bang to rights” is three.’

‘Three words, long sentence,’ he replied.

Grace smiled.

‘What do you think, chief?’ Norman Potting said. ‘Give Quack-Quack a little time to reflect after talking to his brief? Let him dwell on his potential sentence?’

Mindful of Cassian Pewe being on his back like an aggressive limpet, Grace said, ‘What a little scumbag. He’s clearly guilty, but I want to belt-and-braces this. And we need his accomplice.’

He checked his watch, calculating. A suspect could be held for thirty-six hours without being charged. Beyond that, an extension needed to be granted by a magistrate. Ogwang had been arrested at 7.30 p.m. last night, which meant their charging deadline was 7.30 a.m. tomorrow. ‘We need to play him to reel the other in. We may need to go for a magistrate’s extension to give us time to confirm his victim’s blood on the machete, but with luck we’ll get the DNA report from the lab before then. In the meantime we can undertake further interviews and carry out the ID procedures.’

Branson agreed.

‘And while that’s happening,’ Grace said, ‘I’ll talk to the Crown Prosecution Service about charging him. We’ll let him stew for a while. Give him time to preen. Think about his life as a millionaire internet scammer, compared to twenty years in a British slammer. Then we’ll talk to him again later in the day, see if we can get him to squeal on his colleague. We’re lucky with that Legal Aid brief — she doesn’t seem particularly engaged.’

‘I hope she never gets to defend me!’ Potting said. ‘Ugly cow.’

‘I doubt she’d even want to represent you — ever!’ Grace retorted.

Potting gave him a sideways look. ‘I was talking about her attitude. But I’ll tell you this, Roy. The day I can’t say a woman — or a man — is plug ugly, that’s the day I want to be taken out and shot.’

‘That day’s been here a while, Norman.’

‘Just use a dumdum bullet, so it takes my brain clean out and doesn’t leave me a vegetable. Promise me that one thing, chief.’

Grace put his arm on his shoulder. ‘Norman, my dad always told me a person could choose to be offended — or not. It seems to me the world is in a strange place where everyone chooses to be offended all the time. First it was too far the other way. In my dad’s time the police were institutionally racist, homophobic, sexist, you name it. That’s all changed and for the better. Yes, I agree with you the pendulum’s swung too far the other way, but that’s the world we currently inhabit. It is what it is.’

Potting blinked and sighed. ‘Sometimes I’m glad I’m not a young man today, Roy, with all this crap in front of me — and probably going to get worse. At least we had fun in my day, right?’

Grace looked at him. Four failed marriages, each of the women fleecing him, his Thai bride the worst of all. Potting’s idea of fun?