The Memory of Blood(81)

‘My thought exactly. He’s not sleeping with her because he’s in love.’

‘Then it’s her father he’s after.’

‘He introduced them. He’s in charge of building licences. The original licence for theatrical performances would be attached to the building, and if Kramer needed to get the licence of the theatre extended, Gail’s father would be the key to that.’

‘But surely if her father finds out that Kramer is having an affair with his daughter, he won’t be disposed to grant a licence application.’

‘We don’t know what Kramer is capable of doing. He’ll use her to get what he wants, then dump her. It’s more business than pleasure. I don’t suppose we’ll get any more answers from Kramer or his wife, not unless we allow Jack Renfield to torture them—something he’d probably relish the opportunity to do. I think we need to bring in Gail Strong.’



PCs Colin Bimsley and Meera Mangeshkar were sent to Gail Strong’s Notting Hill apartment together to bring her in for further questioning. They were sent as a pair because there was a likelihood that Strong would have reporters and photographers hanging around on her doorstep, and someone would have to distract them.

‘Have you noticed we get all the crappy jobs?’ Meera complained. ‘Go through the bins, sit on a roof all night, update the reports. Bryant tried to get me to make him a cup of tea the other day, but I told him to bugger off.’

‘I don’t mind making him tea. I always feel guilty when he does those big wet puppy eyes and looks helpless.’

‘You’re a pushover.’ Mangeshkar swiped herself out through the tube barrier at Notting Hill.

‘I don’t know why we couldn’t have taken your Kawasaki,’ said Bimsley.

‘Because I didn’t want you pushing yourself up against me every time I braked, thank you. What number is it?’

Bimsley pointed. A pair of overweight men were loitering outside one of the terraced houses with coffee cups and telephoto lenses.

‘Okay, let’s avoid these creeps. See if there’s another way we can get her out of the building.’ Meera punched out Gail’s number on her mobile. ‘No answer. She was there half an hour ago.’ She approached one of the photojournalists. ‘Oi, you waiting to get pictures of Gail Strong?’

‘What’s it to you?’

‘I’m a police officer, that’s what it is to me. Sling your hook before I run you in.’

‘You got no right to order us around.’

‘Terrorism Act. This is a High Alert area. I can bang you up without even bothering to invent a reason.’

The men grumbled, but gathered their equipment together promptly.

‘Have you seen her?’ Meera called. ‘Did she go out?’

‘What, you want our help now?’ The photographer spat at her feet and waddled off.

‘Come on.’ They crossed the road to the front porch of the house. Meera checked the bells and rang the top one. They heard it buzz somewhere above their heads. Colin stepped back to examine the top floor windows. ‘No sign of movement. How are we going to get in?’

‘Cover me.’ Meera put her elbow through a square of glass and felt for the lock.

‘Blimey, Meera, that’s B and E.’

‘She could be hurt. What would the old man do?’

‘Break in, you’re right.’ Bimsley followed her up the darkened stairway.

On the fourth floor, they found the door to flat 160D ajar. ‘Someone’s forced the lock.’ Meera pointed to the damaged hasp. The pair advanced cautiously into the dimly lit flat, searching each room. The kitchen and lounge were undisturbed, but someone had recently been here. A Lily Allen CD was still playing with four tracks left to go. ‘Colin, in here.’

It was hard to tell if the bedroom showed signs of a struggle, or whether Strong was just untidy. Shoes had been kicked off and clothes were scattered over the floor.

‘Fire escape, over there,’ said Meera, leading the way to the back of the house. The rear door onto the black iron escape was shut but unlocked.

Colin studied the back gardens. ‘There’s a gap in the fence. It goes straight out into the road behind. The photographers wouldn’t have seen a thing.’

‘You’re forgetting something. She’s trouble. If she’d been abducted she would have made a hell of a noise.’

‘She’s small. He could have knocked her out and carried her.’

‘Let’s call it in. I’ll get to the neighbours, see if anyone saw anything. Although around here the only people who are ever home are the Filipino nannies.’