The basics. Yeh, you could probably trust Bliss with the basics.
‘If you think it’ll help attending the briefing, you can do that first,’ Brent said.
Twat.
Hay police station was small and grey and stuffed down a back street, no more than a couple of minutes’ walk from England. Too small and not enough parking space for an operation on this scale, so Dyfed-Powys had fixed it for them to use the Hay Community Centre, also grey and even closer to England. Bigger, though, with chairs and tables for the incident room and a field alongside.
DCI Brent would be based here. Just in case this turned into a murder inquiry. Just in case, with the car being found in Hay, the Dyfed-Powys cops from Brecon tried to muscle in, grab too much of the action.
‘We need to talk to all known friends and relatives of Tamsin,’ Brent said to the assembly. ‘In this case, unusually, we don’t have far to look. Who were her best friends in the police? And, before that, at college. I’m sure some of you will have ideas. The situation may change but, for the present, Inspector Ford’s our office manager. So let’s keep him, and his assistant, Alison, very busy.’
Extra computers were being carried in. The bar was opened for coffee. Outside, the troops were gathering. No smiles, no black humour.
‘Next briefing at twelve,’ Brent said. ‘Unless there’s a development that alters things.’
Bliss was hovering outside, waiting for Karen Dowell, when the first TV people arrived, the reporter and cameraman in separate cars. The reporter came over.
‘Excuse me, are you with…?’
‘Liverpool Daily Post,’ Bliss said.
Brent came out of the community centre with DI Watts, from Dyfed-Powys, who were being friendly, under the terms of the cross-border crime initiative. Happy to let them use Hay as an operational base, but Brent wouldn’t be happy until it was clear that he’d be SIO, no matter how far into Wales this went.
Watts was older and balder and heavier than Brent. The TV cameraman shot them, as Karen Dowell wandered over to Bliss.
‘DCI’s on unfamiliar ground, boss. I was convinced he was going to ask about a translator.’
‘Into what?’
‘If there was the slightest possibility that some Welsh people, even though they all speak English, might prefer to communicate in their own language…’
‘In Hay?’
‘He likes to observe the political niceties,’ Karen said, ‘as you know.’
‘Yeh, I could almost believe that. Nothing from Tamsin’s phone?’
‘Nothing obvious. They’re ringing all the stored numbers now, but, essentially, no business on that phone since she talked to Kelly James. The phone was in the car, and the car could have been here all night.’ Karen took in a long breath. ‘Doesn’t look good, does it?’
‘That car needs a good going-over. Did she drive into Hay and park it, or did somebody else?’
‘Couple of locals say there was an old blue Nissan truck parked a couple of spaces away. May have been there for most of last night, but gone by the time we got here.’
‘Basically,’ Bliss said, ‘there’s no evidence that Tamsin even left Dorstone. Last people to actually see her were her own family at about two p.m., after lunch. She hadn’t said where she was going or what she planned to do. But apparently it wouldn’t be the first time she’d taken work home, if you see what I mean.’
‘Would that necessarily be your drowning? Could she have been working on something else?’
‘Worth considering. I think we can take it she didn’t cross paths with Claudia Cornwell, so it could be that she didn’t even go to Cusop. Still, let’s do it thoroughly, like the man says. If I’ve missed anything, I don’t want anybody else finding it.’
At least he could still talk like this in front of Karen. A mate. Either Brent didn’t know this or he did know it and didn’t want any mate of Bliss’s too close to him, reporting back.
They walked up the hill towards the car park, a long traffic queue forming because the cops were restricting access to the car park and also questioning people, in search of anybody who might have parked there yesterday.
Karen pulled out her car keys.
‘Go in mine?’
‘I look that bad?’
‘We all know you’re not out of the woods yet, boss.’
‘All?’
He was still wearing the baseball sweater with the big numbers, was unshaven, and his left eye kept half closing. Not comfortable, but not life-threatening.
‘No,’ Karen said, ‘not all, just a few of us. I can see why you decided it was better to get back in the saddle, I’d probably be the same, especially with him around. Just don’t tire yourself out too much, is all I’m saying, because he’ll pounce on anything.’