‘You say there’s risk,’ said Dan. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘I think Sabira Kasavian is right to believe that her life is in danger,’ said Bryant. ‘If we lose her, we’ll never get to the truth. And we have to act before she finds out that the only person she trusted is dead.’
15
GHOST IMPRINT
‘JOHN WANTED ME to see how you work,’ Jack Renfield explained as he watched Dan Banbury attempting to open the front door. ‘He thought it would help me understand your thinking. For God’s sake give me the bloody key.’
Jeff Waters lived in one of the bland new high-rises that surrounded Swiss Cottage. Clearly his photographic business paid well. The top floors had glass walls that faced south, overlooking the city.
‘We’re in the wrong bloody jobs,’ Renfield grunted. ‘Look at this place, a million plus, easy.’
‘I’m going to tell you this once,’ said Banbury. Now that they had entered the flat, they were on his turf. ‘I have my own way of working and I need you to follow my instructions. You remain behind me, don’t deviate to the left or right unless I clear an area first. I work to a grid, but I’ll create two cleared access paths through the site. After that—’
‘This is boring,’ said Renfield. ‘Just go in and stop pissing about.’
‘I need to explain this because Mr Bryant fails to understand the concept of site contamination. He’s been known to leave sweet wrappers by a body. He can’t resist touching things.’ Banbury grimaced. ‘And bits seem to fall off him. He sheds foreign material like a dog. I once picked up trace liquids at a murder site and followed them through three rooms before I realized that he’d made himself a cup of cocoa and dripped it through the flat.’
‘What are you expecting to find here?’
‘Waters said he never spoke to Sabira, never saw her anywhere except from behind the paparazzi barrier, but Mr Bryant thinks otherwise.’
‘Why would Waters have lied?’
‘Presumably because she confided something of importance to him, and instructed him not to mention their conversation to anyone.’
‘Pillow talk.’
Banbury held up his tweezers. ‘The woman Sabira had the fight with in Fortnum’s accused her of having an affair with Waters. A long blond hair would be a good start. The last thing her husband will want is to be confronted with proof of her infidelity. But Mr Bryant reckons it might shock her into giving some honest answers.’
‘Has it occurred to anyone that she might just be having a nervous breakdown?’ Renfield asked. ‘Birds do, you know. It’s not easy living in the public eye, as my sister can tell you after she got done for shoplifting at Ikea.’
‘What did she take?’
‘She put an occasional table up her kaftan. Now that she’s gained weight she could probably get away with a lawn chair.’
‘I hardly think Sabira’s change of lifestyle can be compared to your sister’s light-fingered habits.’ Banbury eased himself down on to his knees, opened his forensics box and began taping the floor. ‘Besides, her husband is clear about the date of her personality dysfunction. He says it started six weeks ago. If I can find something that approximates that date, we’ll be able to give him a reason for her behavioural change.’
‘It may not be something he wants to hear.’
‘I’m going to do the bathroom first.’ Banbury cleared a path to a bare, white-tiled corner shower room and began checking the toiletries cabinet. ‘There’s no woman residing here,’ he said. ‘Not recently, anyway.’
‘How do you know that?’ asked Renfield.
‘Single men hardly ever remember to clean the insides of their bathroom cabinets. It’s special territory, like your shed. How long has he been living here?’
Renfield checked his notes. ‘Three years.’
‘Cleaning lady?’
‘Janice spoke to the neighbour. She says no.’
‘Overnight guests?’
‘I can nip next door and ask her.’
‘Don’t bother, I’ll soon tell you. I’m only going to grid the seating area in the lounge. I can see where he’s been. Singles form more regimented patterns than couples. Let’s do the bedroom.’
The apartment had been recently painted in soothing shades of grey, offset with lime-washed light oak floors, thick cream rugs, white walls and hidden downlighters. The bedroom was elegant and minimalist.
Renfield noticed that the forensic pathologist had a habit of peering about himself like a cat venturing into a stranger’s flat. ‘No clutter to deal with, no knick-knacks, all very masculine.’ Banbury opened another of his cases and set aside a packet of brown paper bags.