Now You See Me

by Sharon Bolton

  Outside, I thought I heard a car pull up.

  ‘She’s keeping the pressure on,’ said Tulloch. ‘She wants us focusing our attention on where the head’s going to turn up, so we take our eye off the ball.’ She turned to Stenning. ‘And don’t think I don’t know you bozos have a sweepstake running.’

  Stenning blushed bright pink. ‘Just a bit of fun, Boss,’ he muttered to the table. ‘To relieve the tension.’

  ‘What’s this?’ asked Helen.

  ‘My caring young DCs are taking bets on where the head is going to turn up,’ said Tulloch. ‘They’ve narrowed it down to twenty well-known Victorian sites around London.’

  Helen smiled. ‘What odds will you give me for the Albert Memorial?’ she asked Stenning.

  ‘It’s not funny,’ said Tulloch. ‘All she has to do is get to Jacqui Groves and she’s beaten us.’

  A knock sounded at the door. Helen got up and left the room.

  ‘She can’t get to her,’ said Anderson. ‘Jacqui Groves has got round-the-clock bodyguards and no one knows where she is.’

  ‘Hey, gorgeous,’ came the familiar voice from the hall.

  I straightened up in my seat before I realized what I was doing. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Tulloch watching me. And smiling to herself.

  ‘You’re late,’ we heard Helen say, as the front door closed.

  ‘Save me any grub?’ Joesbury appeared in the doorway and glanced round the table. ‘Evenin’ all.’

  He took Helen’s seat, next to me, as Helen left the room. He reached across the table, brushing his left shoulder against me as he helped himself to the water jug.

  ‘Do you want a beer?’ offered Tulloch.

  He shook his head. ‘I’m off in a minute,’ he said. ‘Anybody here still sober?’

  ‘Why?’ asked Tulloch. ‘What have you found?’

  ‘Tell you in a sec,’ he said, as Helen reappeared with a plate piled high with risotto. She put it down in front of Joesbury and then walked round the table to perch on the side of Dana’s chair. Joesbury shovelled several forkfuls into his mouth while we all sat and waited. My shoulder was still tingling.

  ‘Be great with a bit of chicken,’ he said eventually, putting down his fork and refilling his glass.

  ‘If you’ve nothing sensible to say, eat up and go,’ said Helen. ‘We’re about to convene the poetry club.’

  ‘I may have found Tye Hammond,’ said Joesbury.

  Helen, Mizon and Anderson looked puzzled. ‘The survivor of the river-boat fire,’ Stenning said as Joesbury carried on eating. ‘The one in which Cathy Llewellyn died.’

  ‘Where is he?’ asked Tulloch.

  ‘Living in a warehouse just east of Woolwich,’ said Joesbury. ‘It was sold off to developers who went bust. It’s sitting empty while the lawyers fight over it, and a couple of dozen low-lifes – sorry, Flint, street people – have moved in. Word has it that if we pop along in the next hour, we might just find him at home and coming down from one of his highs. He might be able to tell us more about Cathy. He might even remember Victoria.’

  ‘And how do you know this?’

  ‘Contact,’ said Joesbury mysteriously, continuing to eat.

  Tulloch glanced up at Helen. The older woman shrugged. ‘We can have pudding later,’ she said.

  ‘Should we call out uniform?’ asked Anderson.

  Tulloch was looking at Joesbury.

  ‘Your call,’ he said. ‘But personally, I’d keep it nice and low key for now. If you send the numpties in you could have every morning paper running with the story that we suspect one of London’s homeless is the Ripper. That’s not going to make for good community relations.’

  Tulloch stood up. ‘Just you and me then,’ she said to Joesbury. ‘Helen can stay with the others.’

  ‘No,’ said Anderson, getting to his feet. ‘No disrespect, Boss, but you’re not going down some semi-derelict doss house at this time of night with a one-armed man. Pete and me are coming too.’

  Joesbury was looking down at his injured arm, wriggling his fingers as if to make sure it was indeed still working. He looked up at Mizon and winked. She smiled back and then let her eyes drift to me.

  ‘You’ll be less threatening with more women in the party,’ I said to Tulloch. ‘These people that DI Joesbury calls low-lifes are easily scared.’

  ‘I want to come too,’ said Mizon, pushing back her chair.

  A moment’s silence. Helen and Joesbury were the only ones still sitting.

  ‘Well, you’re sure as hell not leaving me with the washing-up,’ said Helen.

  70

  WE TOOK TYE HAMMOND TO AN ALL-NIGHT DINER AND ordered food he didn’t seem too interested in. We’d found him, as Joesbury had predicted, in the warehouse, another Victorian building on the riverbank at Woolwich, and had persuaded him to come with us for a short chat. I sat with him at a Formica table, together with Tulloch and Mizon. Not wanting to intimidate him with numbers, Helen and the three blokes sat a few tables away.

  ‘Am I under arrest?’ he said, grabbing the sugar bowl and spooning grimy white powder into his mug. Tulloch nodded at me to reply.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘We just want to ask you about something that happened a few years ago. There was a fire on a houseboat, at Deptford Creek, do you remember?’

  He began stirring his tea. ‘What if I do?’ he asked his spoon.

  ‘People died,’ I said. ‘Either in the smoke or drowned in the river. You were the only one who survived.’

  He shrugged. ‘Got lucky, didn’t I?’

  ‘How?’ I asked him. ‘How did you get lucky?’

  He didn’t reply, just wrapped his hands around the mug and looked over at the sugar bowl. He’d half emptied it. He still hadn’t looked me in the eyes.

  ‘Tye,’ I said, ‘nobody here wants to take you down the station to talk to you formally. But we will if we have to. Why don’t you—’

  He looked up then. ‘You think I’m scared of that?’ he said. ‘They’ll have to feed me in the nick. It’ll be warm. There’ll be a proper bog I can use.’

  ‘We don’t have to give you smack, though,’ I said. ‘Is that what you’re on? In fact, we’ll have to wait till you come down off whatever it is and get the DTs out of your system. Could be twelve hours or more. Won’t be much fun.’

  Tye’s eyes went back down to his tea. He picked up his fork and began pushing beans around on his plate.

  ‘OK, let’s go,’ said Tulloch, pushing back her chair.

  ‘Wait.’ Tye was holding up one hand. ‘There was a – what do you call it? – an inquiry?’

  ‘An inquest?’ I suggested.

  He nodded. ‘In court,’ he went on. ‘I told them everything I knew. I can’t tell you anything else.’

  ‘Tell us how it happened,’ I said. ‘How did the boat get away from its moorings?’

  ‘The rope was cut,’ he said. ‘That’s why I was on deck. This girl, Cathy, she called me up. Someone had cut the rope and we were drifting.’

  I could sense Tulloch and Mizon sharing a look. I kept my eyes on Tye.

  ‘Cathy?’ I said. ‘Cathy who?’

  He shook his head. ‘Just Cathy. We didn’t use second names. Not even real first ones, most of us.’

  ‘Go on,’ I said.

  ‘We were well away from the bank by this stage. It’s serious shit, you know, being loose in the river, especially at night. We knew we were in trouble. Then Cathy said there was a fire.’

  ‘On the boat?’

  He nodded. ‘I didn’t see it, but she ran up the front. Then there was a huge flash and a couple of seconds later, I’m under the water. I must have fallen in.’

  ‘Were you rescued?’ I asked, remembering the light shining down on me from the RIB, the moment I’d known I would live.

  He shook his head. ‘No, I managed to swim to a pier. I caught hold of one of those wooden columns and made my way to the shore.’

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw T
ulloch gesturing to the other table.

  ‘You were very lucky,’ I said. ‘Tye, how many people were on the boat with you that night?’

  For a second, Tye looked uncertain. His brows contracted, his lips pressed tighter together, as though he was trying to remember something. Then he shook his head. ‘There was six of us,’ he said. ‘Five people died and I survived.’

  I nodded. ‘Yes, that’s what the inquest report said,’ I replied. ‘Three men, including you, and three women, including Catherine Llewellyn. Is that right?’

  He shrugged. He supposed that was right. Over my shoulder, someone handed a photograph to Tulloch. She put it down on the table in front of Tye. It was the snapshot of the Llewellyn sisters.

  ‘Do you recognize either of these girls?’ she asked him.

  He pointed to the younger of the two. ‘That’s her,’ he said. ‘That’s Cathy.’

  I watched Tye’s eyes start to glint as he looked down at the photograph. ‘Was she your girlfriend?’ I asked him, sensing someone from the other table closing in.

  He shook his head.

  ‘But you’d have liked her to be?’ I asked. Joesbury had approached our table. He crouched down, so that his head was on a level with ours.

  ‘Do you recognize the other girl in the photograph?’ he asked. ‘Did you ever see her with Cathy?’

  Tye looked at the photograph again. He glanced up at me, then back down again. He shook his head.

  ‘When you knew Cathy,’ Joesbury said, ‘did you ever have the feeling that she thought someone might be looking for her?’

  ‘We’ve all got someone looking for us,’ Tye answered. ‘Filth, Social Services, families who can’t take no for an answer,’ he went on. ‘Toe rags who think we owe them money. No one gives us any peace.’

  ‘But Cathy specifically. Was someone looking for her?’

  Tye looked at his plate for a second, then nodded.

  ‘Did she say who?’ Tulloch asked.

  He shook his head.

  Joesbury reached into his pocket and pulled out two twentypound notes. He put them on the table and laid his hand on top of them. ‘I don’t hand over money for bullshit, Tye,’ he said, ‘so don’t waste your time. Tell me something useful and I’ll leave this behind when I go.’

  Tye’s eyes were on the money, working out what it would buy him and, somehow, I didn’t think he was planning a trip to the nearest Tesco Metro to stock up on salad and live yogurt.

  ‘Was she afraid?’ asked Joesbury.

  Tye shrugged, gave a weak, half-hearted nod, shrugged again. ‘I know she didn’t want to be found,’ he said. ‘She would never move north of the river. I think that’s where this bloke – she never said it was a bloke, I just sort of assumed – I think that’s where he was. I think she knew he was north of the river and that’s why she wanted to stay this side.’

  My three colleagues were exchanging glances. I kept my eyes on the young man directly opposite.

  ‘Did she ever mention a sister, Tye?’ I asked him. He looked at me vacantly for a second, then shook his head. ‘Do you think he found her?’ he asked me. ‘Do you think he cut the rope that night? Set the boat on fire?’ Tye took his eyes away from me to look at the others. ‘Do you think whoever did that to us was the one Cathy was scared of?’ he asked them.

  Joesbury was looking at me. ‘Anything’s possible,’ he said and pushed himself to his feet.

  71

  Friday 5 October

  ‘I’M SENDING A TEAM TO CARDIFF,’ TULLOCH WAS SAYING TO the assembled throng as I pushed open the door of the incident room the next morning. ‘I’m not sure who yet. But we need to find any other photographs of Victoria, talk to people who knew her, try and find out where she might be staying.’

  The door opened again and I turned to see Joesbury holding it for Gayle Mizon. She walked through holding two paper mugs from Starbucks. She held one out to him and he grinned at her as he took it. The smell of coffee came drifting over towards me. Joesbury’s hair was still wet from the shower. A phone started ringing. From the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Barrett answer it.

  ‘We need to go over Cooper’s place again,’ Tulloch said. ‘We may have missed something. A partial print, anything.’

  ‘Boss.’ Barrett’s voice.

  ‘That outfit she wears, the black-hooded coat with squiggles on it, it may—’

  ‘Boss.’ Louder that time. We all turned to Barrett, whose normally glossy black skin had taken on a duller shade. ‘You need to take this,’ he went on. ‘The head’s turned up.’

  Tulloch seemed to freeze. ‘Where?’ she asked.

  ‘The zoo,’ he answered. ‘It’s at London Zoo.’

  ‘This is one sick bitch,’ muttered Anderson, as we bypassed the zoo’s queuing system and went in through the main gates. A couple of uniformed constables were already in place. We’d passed another one on the street outside, patiently explaining to the growing queue why they couldn’t go into the zoo just yet. I hoped he wasn’t telling them the whole truth.

  Ahead of us we saw two men in suits and a woman in black trousers and a green sweatshirt approach Tulloch.

  ‘The tall bloke’s local CID,’ muttered Anderson. ‘I knew him when I worked in Islington.’ He pointed over to a group of primary-school children gathered by the gift shop. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘The place is crawling with school parties midweek. Is it even Victorian?’

  ‘Strictly, it pre-dates Her late Majesty by a few years,’ I said. I’d done a quick Google search before we’d left the station. ‘Although she was on the throne by the time it opened to the public.’

  ‘My bloody daughter comes here,’ said Anderson.

  ‘Take it easy, mate,’ said Joesbury.

  The tall detective introduced himself and the zoo’s general manager, a man called Sheep, comically enough. The woman was one of the head keepers. She was shaking.

  ‘How long ago was it found?’ asked Tulloch.

  Sheep looked at his watch. ‘About quarter to ten,’ he said. ‘We’d only just opened. Luckily the place was quiet. Just a few dozen early birds and that school party you can see over there.’

  ‘Is there anywhere they can be taken until we can talk to them?’ asked Tulloch.

  ‘The Oasis might work,’ said Sheep. ‘The main site restaurant. It’s not far from here and there’s plenty of space.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Tulloch. ‘Gayle, can you organize that? Coordinate with the keepers to get everyone over there, including all non-essential staff.’

  ‘It’s our busiest time,’ said the woman in green. ‘All the enclosures need to be made ready for the day, the animals all need feeding.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Tulloch. ‘We’ll keep the disruption to a minimum. Now, where can we see CCTV footage?’

  ‘My office is probably the best place,’ said Sheep. ‘I can take you there now.’

  ‘Can you take DC Stenning, please?’ said Tulloch. ‘Pete, get hold of everything for the last twenty-four hours for starters. We’ll take it from there.’

  Stenning and Sheep set off towards the zoo’s main admin buildings.

  ‘OK, let’s walk and talk,’ said Tulloch. ‘How far do we have to go?’

  With the CID detective, a man called John Hallister, in the lead, we set off down the hill and along the zoo’s main avenue. To our right were the original brick buildings of the aquarium and the reptile house. Tiny cafeterias on either side of the path had just started business for the day. The serving staff watched us with undisguised curiosity as we made our way past.

  ‘Our local office got the call at ten minutes to ten,’ said Hallister. ‘We followed down about fifteen minutes later. When we got here, uniform had already closed the zoo to new punters and roped off the enclosure. The zoo staff had to get the animals back into their sleeping accommodation. Wasn’t easy. They were very upset.’

  ‘And which animals …’ began Tulloch. We’d stopped at the police tape. ‘The Gorilla Kingdom,�
� she said, with something like dismay in her voice.

  ‘Gorillas are extremely sensitive,’ said the keeper in a shaky voice. She was wearing a name badge that told us she was called Anna. ‘They don’t react well to the smell of blood,’ she went on.

  ‘Neither do I,’ said Tulloch in a low voice.

  ‘This is one of the newest enclosures,’ I said. ‘And probably the most popular. If anyone were going for maximum shock value, this is the one they’d choose.’

  ‘Are you telling me the gorillas found the head?’ Tulloch asked Anna.

  ‘We knew something was up,’ she replied. ‘They started screaming the minute we let them out. They wouldn’t go near it, of course.’

  ‘They didn’t touch it then?’ asked Tulloch. ‘It’s still where it was found?’

  ‘I couldn’t say for certain about the Colobus monkeys. We had quite a job getting them rounded up. And they are very inquisitive. The gorillas are a different story. Very distressed. Our alpha female is pregnant.’

  There wasn’t much we could say to that – it certainly didn’t seem like the moment to offer congratulations. We stepped through a long fringe of plastic sheeting and found ourselves in a semitropical environment. Lush foliage, running water, decorative bamboo structures and jewel-coloured tropical birds. We carried on through more plastic fringing and came into the enclosure itself.

  It was a large space. A dead tree looked sculptural against the pale October sky. I looked up. No roof of any description.

  The gorillas were still upset. Even some distance from their indoor accommodation, their calling and chattering was uncomfortably loud.

  ‘There it is,’ said Hallister. ‘Over by that rock.’

  With Tulloch in the lead we approached a viewing point. Between us and the gorillas’ enclosure was a metre-high fence and a water-filled moat. The head was face-down about five metres away on the other side of the moat. The chin-length brown hair was damp from dew. What looked like congealed blood surrounded the stump.

  ‘She could have thrown it from here,’ said Joesbury. ‘One big swing would do it.’