The Solomon Gray Series Box Set

by Keith Nixon

  “You’re forgiven, by the way.”

  “For what?” Gray couldn’t think what he might have done.

  “Bitching at me.”

  “Oh, that.”

  “Do it again and I’ll uninvite you to my birthday night out.”

  Gray regretted his earlier apology. It could have been a way out of the dreaded piss-up. He wasn’t interested in attending Hamson’s celebrations, but she kept going on about it and deep down he knew he’d probably end up going.

  Hamson absorbed Gray’s less-than-enthusiastic response. Gray employed a common avoidance tactic and grabbed his desk phone. With the dial tone droning in his ear he searched for the number of the social worker, Rosemary Dent.

  The notepad he’d written the details on had become buried over the previous thirty-six hours while someone else used his desk. He found the pad, flipped back a few pages until he saw his own scrawl.

  He reset the line, which had begun to wail at him in protest at being unused for too long, and rattled in the numbers, avoiding Hamson’s glare. She’d give up soon, distracted by her caseload. This time the phone rang through.

  Dent answered with her name. Gray responded with his. She didn’t mess around and got straight to the point. That, and the rapidity of her speech, gave the hearty impression of a person with precious little time to spare.

  “What can I do for you, Sergeant? I’m about to go out into the field.”

  “Sounds like you’re FBI, Mrs Dent.”

  “It’s Ms.”

  Two can play at that game.

  He adopted an identical cut and thrust approach. “Nick Buckingham. He was one of yours, I believe?”

  Dent’s voice immediately warmed, her manner shifting from officious to self-congratulatory. “He most certainly was, and a resounding success, I might add.”

  “I’m sorry to tell you he’s dead.”

  “That’s awful!” said Dent. Gray let the silence stretch until she asked, “What were the circumstances?”

  “Suicide is suspected.”

  “Oh my. That doesn’t sound like Nick at all, he’s a survivor. What happened?”

  “We’re still investigating, Miss Dent, so I’m afraid I can’t share all the details, although I expect there will be a coroner’s enquiry in the near future.”

  “Which station did you say you were from?”

  “Margate, on the Kent coast.”

  “I know where it is, Sergeant. You’d be amazed how many of my charges end up there.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised at all. I see it daily.”

  “Quite.”

  “Can you tell me about him? I just need the brief details. For background, you understand.”

  “Of course.” Dent launched into a rapid-fire speech on Buckingham’s history, which added little to what Gray already knew. It was a sorry tale of rejection and desolation. Ultimately there were the beginnings of possible rehabilitation, initiated by his arrest in Green Park.

  “I was so convinced we’d straightened him out. I can’t believe he killed himself.”

  “His records state he was passed to you as a condition of his sentence, right?”

  “Yes, but it wasn’t for long. We found Nick a stable home, he seemed much happier.”

  “And that was it?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “You didn’t see him regularly?”

  “Not after I handed on his case. Why would I?”

  “Is that normal?”

  “Entirely.” Dent’s tone hardened again. “My turn to ask the questions, Sergeant. Where did you get my name?”

  “The care notes. And I spoke to DC Yandell on Saturday.”

  “I remember him. He was a bit aggressive. I much preferred his colleague. Pennance? Nice man.”

  “And you had no idea Nick had moved down here?”

  “I’m afraid not. As I said, he was rehoused and left my jurisdiction.”

  “He never mentioned Margate?”

  “No.”

  “Why would he be here then?”

  “I’ve really no idea, Sergeant. Although I could give you one theory.”

  “Okay.”

  “I could be completely wrong, of course.”

  “I won’t hold it against you, Miss Dent.”

  “Sometimes adopted children develop an overwhelming urge to find their parents.”

  Gray’s stomach plunged. “Excuse me?”

  “Adoptees. On occasion they want to know where they come from.”

  “You’re not sure, though?”

  “It’s as good a reason as any, isn’t it?”

  Gray had one more question, but he couldn’t ask it. He thanked Dent with more enthusiasm than before, and terminated the call. He sat back and thought about what she’d said.

  Sometimes children get an overwhelming urge to find their parents…

  Gray’s mobile rang. Absently, he answered.

  A voice he recognised said, “I understand you have a corpse on your hands.”

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  “That’s no way to talk to a superior officer,” said Detective Inspector Marcus Pennance.

  Fourteen

  DI Pennance worked in the Sapphire unit of the Metropolitan Police, the section responsible for serious sexual crimes and child protection. Their paths had crossed a few years ago thanks to a report of a kid found in London that sounded like it might be Tom. Gray got in touch with Pennance via a friend of a friend. Pennance had done what he could (which, ultimately, wasn’t anything) and asked for a favour in return. Buckingham was just one more deed in a long list, though this time he was on Gray’s doorstep.

  “Are you somewhere private?” asked Pennance.

  “No, but I can be.”

  “I’ll call you on your mobile in two minutes.”

  Gray disconnected, scooped up his mobile, headed out of the office and to the incident room. He stuck his head around the door. It was empty. Gray took the meeting room on the left, closed the door behind him. It wouldn’t appear unusual, him taking some privacy here. He paced the floor while he waited for Pennance to call, answering the instant his phone rang.

  “What the bloody hell have you got me into? And where have you been?”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “And all the while I’ve been up to my neck in it here, thanks to you. My number was on Buckingham’s fucking mobile. I’ve got my DI and DCI all over me!”

  “It’s done. You could have just told me to piss off.”

  “And you could have told me everything,” said Gray.

  “Did you really want to know?” Pennance shot back.

  That made him pause. Pennance was right, even though Gray wasn’t about to admit it. He certainly wanted to know now. Everything.

  He said so.

  “I can’t tell you too much over the phone, of course. Buckingham was involved.”

  “How?”

  “He was integral to building a prosecution against some powerful people.”

  “And now he’s dead.”

  “Yes.”

  “As a direct result of your work?”

  “I don’t know. It’s possible.”

  “He was the same age as my son, for God’s sake.”

  “I’m well aware of his age.”

  “Why wasn’t I?”

  “Because you would have asked questions I couldn’t answer.”

  “Too right I would have done. You kept me in the dark. You used me.”

  “I didn’t plan on Buckingham getting himself killed.”

  “Bad judgement on your part, then.”

  Pennance sighed down the phone. His next words sounded more contrite. “I never wanted any of this to happen. It was supposed to be simple. Just somewhere for Buckingham to stay for a while. I want to make this right. I want to come down and investigate Nick’s death properly.”

  “Why not just put a request in?”

  “I have.”

  “So what’s the probl
em?”

  “Your Chief Inspector.”

  “Carslake?”

  “That’s the one. He’s resisting.”

  Something here didn’t make sense to Gray. “I don’t get it.”

  “I can’t go telling everyone what’s underway, it would seriously jeopardise my enquiries.”

  “Why me?”

  “We both know you’re the sort of man who’d understand my objectives and want to help without too many questions asked.”

  Pennance operated both sides of the law, used his position to get to offenders the police couldn’t touch. Paedophiles in particular. Pennance ran a tiny discrete unit who transmitted vital information onto a more visible civilian group, which then went after those evading the law. Gray had become part of it, as a result of his involvement with Pennance when looking for Tom.

  “It feels like you’re using me again.”

  “Yes, but for a very good reason. I’m sure you’ll understand once we get the chance to speak face to face.”

  “So until then, I remain in the dark?”

  “Out of necessity.”

  Gray didn’t like this one little bit. Pennance was astute enough to know how to manipulate him.

  “You’re asking me to talk to Carslake for you?”

  “Yes. Vouch for me. Make him feel at ease with the idea of my presence.”

  Gray wasn’t happy. He knew the questions from his superiors about his mobile number wouldn’t stop. And he knew his own mind wouldn’t stop asking whether Nick was really Tom.

  Pennance was a man who looked after himself. Perhaps it would be better to have him here, under Gray’s nose, rather than miles away in the capital and under someone else’s.

  “Now, Sergeant, are you going to speak to your DCI for me?”

  “Against my better judgement, yes.”

  “Good man. I’ll be in touch when you get me the go-ahead.”

  Gray disconnected. Massaged his temples. He could feel a headache starting.

  Fifteen

  On Gray’s return to the detectives’ office he stopped at Fowler’s desk. “Any information about who owns the flat yet?”

  “No.”

  “Bit slow, aren’t we, Mike?”

  “Have you seen my workload?” Fowler pointed to a pile of folders and paperwork big enough to need oxygen at its peak. “I’m off down to the Jobcentre offices later on this morning, though.”

  “Good. What about the fingerprints on the glass?”

  “Two sets of dabs were found. One was Buckingham’s and some partials around the rim. Unidentified, though.”

  Gray thought about that. Someone had lifted the glass at the top.

  “Okay, let me know as soon as you learn something.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  Box ticked, Gray turned away.

  “Everything all right?” said Hamson. “You look like someone’s kicked you in the balls.”

  Before Gray could respond, Carslake leant into the office and nodded his head at him to follow. Hamson gave Gray a questioning look. He responded in kind, even though he had a pretty good idea what was going on.

  “What’s the matter?” said Gray when he was in the corridor.

  “Not until we’re upstairs,” snapped Carslake.

  Swimming in the DCI’s wake, Gray considered what he should say. By the time he was on the top floor he wasn’t any the wiser and scarcely registered the usual deadly glare from Sylvia.

  Barely had Carslake closed the door when he barked, “Sit down.” Gray did as he was told, while Carslake stalked his desk like a praying mantis, stiff with anger. He leant on the wood, his jaw set. “Have you been speaking to the Met?”

  “The Met?”

  “Are you bloody deaf?”

  Gray opted to tell the truth, most of it at least, and rise above Carslake’s petulance. “Briefly, on Saturday. I spoke to a PC Yandell. It was about the Buckingham suicide. Why, what’s happened?”

  “You’ve created quite a stir, that’s what. They want to send one of their men down, a DI Pennance. I’ve just had the third call about it from Superintendent Marsh.”

  “Bloody hell.”

  “Quite. There’s something about this Buckingham kid that’s rattled a few cages, thanks to you.”

  “How was I supposed to know this would happen?”

  “You’ve worked on the force long enough to know that poking around outside your jurisdiction creates waves, particularly when it comes to those cockney buggers. Well, haven’t you?”

  “Sorry.”

  Carslake let out a deep sigh and said, “You’re a bloody idiot, do you know that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The DCI’s backside hit the chair hard. He fell into a stony silence. Gray let the man calm down. “What’s done is done. Next time, come to me.” Gray nodded. Carslake was seemingly mollified, the threatened storm just a squall and already blown out. “I pulled a few strings at HQ, got his specifics emailed over to me. I had Sylvia print it out. I know how much you prefer a hard copy.”

  Carslake held out a manila folder. It was fairly thick, so he was no rookie, this one. Plenty of time to build up a list of misdemeanours or, worse, successes. Gray knew all about Pennance, though Carslake wasn’t to know that.

  “The boy comes with a pretty good record,” said Carslake. “Keen as mustard. Definitely one destined for greatness.”

  “I love the sound of that.”

  “That’s what worries me. Perhaps he’s after his next leg up.”

  The file housed a litany of positive reports and arrests. Even so, one incident stood out. A father had gone for his step kid with a knife after stabbing the mother. Armed response was five minutes away so Pennance took down the guy single-handedly, saved the kid’s life. Fearless, his commanding officer stated. Gray could think of other, less flattering descriptions.

  “That caught my eye, too,” said Carslake.

  “It says here Pennance got passed over for a commendation because he gave the father a right royal pasting.”

  “His single blemish. It’s probably the least the bastard deserved, between you and me. Something bothers me, Sol. A few days ago this was a straightforward suicide, now there’s some out-of-towner crawling all over it. Why?”

  “Beats me.” Gray dropped the folder on the desk, keen to end the discussion on Pennance. “It’ll come out in time Jeff. Always does.”

  Carslake sighed. “I guess you’re right. Anything from Clough on the post-mortem results?”

  “I haven’t heard from him. Buckingham is low priority I’d imagine.”

  “Not any more. Give him a kick up the backside, would you? If that doesn’t work, tell me and I’ll give him one myself.”

  “Of course, sir.” Carslake looked like he’d relish the chance to boot Clough.

  “The Super’s left it up to me to decide whether this Pennance works with us or not.”

  “Trust him to pass the buck.”

  “That’s the benefit of rank. Speaking of which, what do you think?”

  “I say we bring him down here. Maybe he’ll be able to help. Think of it as free resource. He’ll support our clearance rate.”

  “Screw the clearance rate. It’s Sapphire. Everything they deal with is distasteful.” Gray said nothing. “You understand if this all goes tits up, it’s my responsibility?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, because if it happens, I won’t be the only one looking at an early pension.”

  “Understood.”

  “I’ll call the Super.”

  “I think it’s the right thing to do.”

  A grunt from Carslake preceded his words: “Doesn’t mean it’s best, though. Let’s just get him in and out of here as quickly as possible.”

  Gray made to get up.

  “Sit back down, I haven’t finished with you yet. The Super isn’t happy for another reason.”

  “Is he ever?”

  “When it comes to you, no. Brian Blake has been
on at him. He complained about your negligent behaviour, as he put it, with regard to the Buckingham investigation.”

  “That’s a load of crap, and you know it, sir.”

  “As does the Super. We still have to make it up to him, though. Doesn’t do well to rattle the boss’s cage.”

  “Can I do a few Hail Marys instead?”

  “Wrong religion.”

  “Shouldn’t this be down to DI Hamson? She’s my commanding officer, after all.”

  “She’s not the one who’s a walking cock-up, so you’ll be DI Pennance’s liaison. Makes sense as you were at the suicide.”

  “Only briefly.”

  “And that was Blake’s point.”

  “DI Hamson won’t be happy.”

  “Let me deal with her.”

  “When do I get Pennance, then?”

  “Once I give the go-ahead, he’s on a train. Probably tomorrow morning. We’ll put him up at a hotel down the road. The one by the station, whatever it’s called. Sylvia will know.”

  Gray waved the folder. “Can I have this?”

  “It’s all yours. And keep me up to date. I don’t like this.”

  “Neither do I.”

  ***

  Gray leaned over Hamson’s desk. “Have you got any ciggies with you?”

  “I thought you’d given up.”

  “I’ve decided to un-give up.”

  “That’s not even a word.”

  “It is now. Come on, outside.”

  “Who gives the orders round here?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine, Von.”

  The pair stood alone in the car park. The tang of engine oil from the array of parked vehicles merged with the odour of fried food vented by the pub next door. It made for a heady mixture about to be contaminated further by cigarette smoke.

  After taking one for herself, Hamson put the pack away.

  “I’ll take one,” said Gray. Surprised, Hamson drew the pack out again and handed it over.

  Gray extracted a cigarette and clamped it between his lips. He’d not touched one for two years. Hamson lit hers, passed the lighter over. Gray thumbed the wheel; the flame caught. Gray sucked on the filter, drew the smoke into the back of his throat. The cloud scraped its way down his gullet and entered his lungs. Gray coughed.

  It was like the first time all over again. The rough taste, him wondering why the hell he was subjecting his body to this. But he took another hit and then it was just like he remembered. Why the hell had he given up?