Not Dead Yet

87

The opening day of the Carl Venner trial at the Old Bailey had gone as well as could be expected, Roy Grace’s Case Officer, Mike Gorringe, who was attending for the whole duration, had reported. The hearing was set to run for three weeks and Grace would not be needed until the middle of next week at the earliest, which suited him well. He had plenty of other issues to deal with here in Sussex at the moment. The most pressing one, as he sat at his desk, staring at his computer screen, was the email Chief Superintendent Graham Barrington had just forwarded him.

It had been sent to Gaia’s published email address last night, read by an assistant who vetted all of her fan mail, and immediately forwarded to her head of security Andrew Gulli.

I still cannot believe how you cut me dead. I thought your whole point in coming to England was to see me. I know you love me, really. You’re going to be sorry you did that. Very sorry. You made me look a fool. You made people laugh at me. I’m going to give you the chance to apologise. You are soon going to be telling the whole world how much you love me. I will kill you if you don’t.

He rang Graham Barrington’s direct line. It was answered instantly. ‘What do you think, Roy?’ Even though Barrington had been a police officer for nearly thirty years, his voice was still full of an infectious, boyish enthusiasm, and Grace loved that, because it was how he felt, too – most days at any rate.

‘I guess we need to assess whether this is a harmless nutter or a serious threat. In the first instance, are we certain this isn’t from the perp in Los Angeles, Graham?’

‘Well,’ the Chief Superintendent replied, ‘it’s in a similar vein, but I spoke to our contact there, Detective Myman – I just woke him up, it’s 1 a.m. local time – and he assures me that the man they have in custody has no internet access. I’ve forwarded it to the High Tech Crime Unit to see if they can find the source for us. What’s your view, Roy?’

‘Has anyone spoken to Gaia about this?’

‘Not yet, she’s still asleep, I understand.’

‘Someone needs to talk to her as soon as she’s up.’

‘Maybe you should – I think she’s quite sweet on you, Roy!’

‘Probably a good reason why I shouldn’t then!’ Then, being serious again he said, ‘We need to find if she has any idea who this could be. Has she had a confrontation with any of her fans since she’s been here?’

‘I’ve asked Gulli that question. There was a middle-aged woman in The Grand Hotel who tried to push past the security guards, and then made a complaint to us about their brutality.’

‘Oh? How was it followed up?’

‘Uniform attended. They took a statement from her and then interviewed a couple of the security guards later. Seems the woman lied about being a journalist to try to get into Gaia’s suite, then chased after her. We’re not taking her complaint any further.’

Grace wondered why no one had thought to notify him about this incident. Then he looked at the email again. One possibility going through his mind was whether this could be Amis Smallbone winding them up? He read the words and did not think so. There was something sad about them, a desperation. A wounded lover? A stalker deluded that Gaia was in love with him? Or her?

‘I think we need to know more about this woman at The Grand, Graham. Can you get someone from your CID team to go and talk to her?’

‘I’ll get Jason Tingley on it right away.’

‘What do we know about Gaia’s current love life?’

‘She has a lover in Los Angeles. A fitness instructor. Detective Myman said he was interviewed after her assistant was killed and cleared. Sounds like their relationship is fine.’

‘I’d like to get this email analysed by a psychologist,’ Grace said. ‘There may be some subtext we’re not aware of.’

‘Good idea. Meantime I’m going to step up her protection.’

‘Definitely,’ Grace said. ‘Do we know her movements today?’

‘They’re filming a big interior scene at the Pavilion tonight. She’s free during the day. She’s promised to take her son on the Pier and to the beach. I’ll make sure we don’t let either of them out of our sight.’

‘I think my young god-daughter is going to join them,’ Grace said.

‘We’ll have a ring of steel around them, Roy.’

Grace thanked him and hung up. Emails were tumbling into his inbox faster than he could read them. A whole bunch of stuff about the police rugby team he was running, and had to deal with, on top of everything else. And in twenty minutes’ time he had to drive over to Sussex Police HQ at Malling House, to brief his boss ACC Peter Rigg on Operation Icon.

Gaia would be fine, for now, in Graham Barrington’s hands. He hoped.