Dead if You Don’t

115

Sunday 13 August

22.00–23.00

Roy Grace arrived home at 10.30 p.m. As he climbed out of his car, nearly on his knees with exhaustion, a text appeared on his job phone.

It was from Cassian Pewe.

He stood, staring at it, thinking about something he had read in a management training course he had been on, some years back. Too often in organizations, sooner or later incompetent people fail upwards.

He was so tempted to text that to the ACC. Instead he sent a terse, one-word reply.

It might have been nice if his boss had said a thank you for what he had done today — even just a tiny one. But it seemed Cassian Pewe had been born with the ability to give praise missing from his DNA.

Humphrey barked as Roy walked in the pitch-darkness from the car towards the house. The security light came on. He unlocked the front door and patted the excited dog, then went through to the living room. Cleo, looking as drained as he felt, was on the sofa, a glass of white wine on the coffee table in front of her, watching the news. Her face lit up as she saw him. ‘You’re back! What happened? I just saw on the news that the boy — Mungo Brown — is safe.’

He kissed her. ‘Yep, he is. He was an idiot and it could have had a very different outcome. How was your day?’

‘About as good as a day spent doing postmortems with Frazer Theobald is ever going to get. And we start again at 8 a.m.’

‘How’s your back been today?’

Cleo’s back had not been right since her pregnancy with Noah, made worse by the lifting injury a few months ago. The mortuary had invested a substantial sum of money with a Sussex firm, Posturite, for an ergonomic chair and workstation area to help her, as well as a specially supportive chair for her at home.

‘It’s been OK, thanks, I’m seeing the chiropractor again on Tuesday. Next time we get a forty-stone whopper to lay out, I’m hiring a fork-lift truck.’

He grinned.

‘How about you — how are you feeling?’

‘I’ve a meeting with my good buddy Cassian at 9 a.m. Followed by a briefing from DS Sally Medlock on a gang of particularly nasty romance fraudsters — she needs Major Crime to help catch them.’

‘I thought you might be occupied. I’ve got Kaitlynn here all day tomorrow from 7 a.m.’

‘Thanks.’

‘You look like you need a drink. There’s some in the bottle in the fridge.’

‘I need something stronger.’ He walked over to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a large whisky. ‘How are the boys?’

‘I’ve hardly seen them. Kaitlynn said Noah’s been good as gold. I looked in on Bruno a short while ago and he’s playing some war game again. Oh, by the way, before I forget, I need some dates from you for our appointment with Alan Larkin.

‘Alan Larkin?’

‘The solicitor at at the Family Law Partners, to see what he suggests we do about finalizing all the paperwork with Bruno’s move here from Munich.’

Sandy’s parents, always difficult people at the best of times, were being a nightmare recently, and he was glad to have Larkin on board as a collaboratively trained lawyer to help with their differences over both access to Bruno and the provisions for him made in Sandy’s will.

‘Great, thanks.’ He popped a couple of ice cubes in his whisky and joined her on the sofa.

‘So?’ she quizzed. ‘I haven’t seen you since yesterday. What’s been happening, Mr Mystery?’

‘Well — it’s been a good day and a bad day.’

‘You want to start with the good or the bad?’

He filled her in, with as much detail as he could. When he had finished he asked, ‘Tell me, the body parts that you’ve recovered from the crusher site. Did the head turn up yet?’

She frowned. ‘Yes, it was brought in earlier this evening — but oddly missing an ear.’

‘Which one — left or right?’

‘The right.’

He smiled. ‘That makes sense.’

‘I’m glad it does to someone.’

He stood up. ‘Maybe I should look in on Bruno?’

‘Sure, but don’t be long, I have plans.’

‘Plans?’

She gave him a very sexy smile. ‘If my darling superhero, swimmer extraordinaire, is not tooooo tired, that is.’

He grinned back, hurried upstairs and stood outside Bruno’s door, listening. He heard a staccato burst of gunfire, followed by another, then the sound of his son cursing loudly in German. He tapped on the door and entered.

Bruno, dressed in a hoodie, jeans and white socks, was lying on his bed, holding his Xbox controller, concentrating hard as figures darted across the television screen. As each appeared, he stabbed buttons on the controller, and the character was blown away. Then the screen froze and a score appeared.

‘Jah! You bastard, I got you! Du bist der verlierer!’ Without turning his head, Bruno said, ‘I won!’

‘See, Bruno, the lessons in shooting I gave you have paid off!’

‘Maybe.’

‘So, how’ve you been? Mr Allen brought you home from the Amex OK, yesterday?’

‘Jah. He has an Audi A6.’

‘How did you get on with his boys — he has two sons, right?’

‘Boys? They were babies. Like, I don’t know, nine or seven or something. Logan and something like Jensen.’ He kept his focus on the screen, tapping his Xbox, starting another game. ‘So, what happened to the boy who was kidnapped?’

‘He’s safe, back with his family.’

‘The kidnappers did not get any ransom?’

‘They got some — part of it.’

Bruno nodded, approvingly. ‘That is good.’

‘Good? Good that they only got part of it?’

‘No, Dad, good that they got some money. Won’t they be disappointed they did not get the rest?’

Grace frowned. ‘Why do you say that, Bruno?’

Two names appeared on the screen, Erik and Bruno.

‘Why do you say that, Bruno?’ he repeated.

‘I have to concentrate now.’

Grace looked at the screen. It looked like a medieval fort, from the point-of-view of the camera. A man dashed across a gap at the end. Bruno hit a button and yelled out, in frustration, ‘No! I missed!’

Grace pulled the control box from his son’s hands, in fury. ‘Listen to me. I just asked you a question and I expect you to answer. Right?’

‘You are going to let Erik win this game?’ Bruno retorted.

‘No, Bruno, let’s get something straight. It is you who is going to let Erik win by not answering me. I’m asking you a question. Why did you say it’s good that the kidnappers got some money — and would be disappointed by not getting the rest?’

His son gave him a sullen look. ‘They took a risk, don’t they deserve some reward, surely?’

Some minutes later, Grace went back downstairs. It was the second time this weekend that Bruno had made a very odd remark. Just what kind of upbringing had Sandy given him? One with a very strange, skewed moral compass, it seemed. Or maybe it was a rebellious phase he was going through, still unhappy about being displaced, taken away from what he had always considered home?

But he was too tired to think about it any more.