She had offered him the money, and he had refused, saying that in man-hours he had spent no more than a day searching and the frame itself he’d managed to get for less than a hundred. Kim had insisted that he take it. To her a deal was a deal. Reluctantly he’d agreed.
The following morning she’d stepped out of her front door to see his pushbike leaning against her fence and him on his knees with a pile of weeds to his right.
When she’d asked him what he was doing, he’d said following her advice and providing value for money. He was a man desperately trying to put his criminal past of burglary behind him and provide for his young family.
Seeing the job he’d done on her garden, Charlie – her neighbour – had given him some odd jobs to do. Len’s girlfriend, Wendy, had secured a part-time early morning cleaning job, and the small family were now off benefits and trying to make their own way.
The whole journey of this bike caused her a smile every time she looked at it. The Commando was in production for ten years from 1968 and won Machine of the Year for five years running up to 1972, which came as a surprise, not least to the company’s owner, as the production of the bike was filled with problems. Early clutches couldn’t hold the engine torque and two small internal pins would shear off leading to severe slippage. The side stand on the bike often broke off if the rider was too forceful when kicking off.
But those were the reasons she loved the MK1 750cc model. It wasn’t perfect. It had fought back.
And although she was enjoying every minute of working on the bike she couldn’t help her mind wandering back to the events at Heathcrest. Two children dead in a few days; one murder and one accidental. The full post-mortem on Shaun Coffee-Todd was due to take place in the morning. The press hadn’t got their hands on the story yet, but she was sure by the morning it would be out there.
The piece that she’d heard earlier that day continued to fill her ears. She felt the joy enter her heart as her eyes closed to savour the notes. She pictured the intensity of emotion passing between Saffie and Eric Monroe as the girl had played the piece. Whatever lay between them was still raw like an open cut.
The music ended, and Kim opened her eyes as a sudden thought occurred to her.
Saffie Winters had played that exact piece earlier that day and it had elicited no emotion in Kim at all. Although technically accurate it had been lacking a vital ingredient.
The performance had had no soul.
Thirty-Six
‘There’s little in this scoring I’d change,’ Kim said, glancing up at Stacey above her appraisal form. Before the death of Shaun Coffee-Todd, she had asked Stacey to meet half an hour before the morning briefing. They were all eager to get on with the murder of Sadie Winters, but Woody had left her in no doubt that the damned appraisals had to land on his desk before the end of the week.
They had been through the individual criteria together, and Kim had found Stacey’s account of her own performance both accurate and honest. She signed the bottom of the form and put it on top of Dawson’s sheet.
She saw the look of relief that passed over the constable’s face.
The official appraisal was over, but Kim had more to say. Things that had no place on an official document that would live on her personnel file for ever. Despite her integral role in the team Kim always felt that Stacey was trying to prove something.
She recognised it because she had been exactly the same when she’d joined the police force. But it had been a different animal back then. Most female police officers had felt the need to work harder and stay later than their male counterparts. She hated the thought that Stacey had felt the need to act in the same way, especially under her direction.
Kim sat back in her chair. ‘Stace, why do you still feel you have so much to prove?’
Stacey shifted uncomfortably.
Kim continued. ‘You stay later than anyone else, you carry on working when you get home. Your mind is always on the job…’ Kim hesitated before going on. ‘You have to make a life too,’ she said.
She was not the kind of boss that got involved in the personal lives of her team. It was something that made both her and them feel uncomfortable; but from what she could gather Stacey had other priorities now, a budding relationship. Something to divert her constant focus from her work.
Stacey looked down at her hands.
‘Look, Stace, don’t let opportunities pass you by because you’re trying to prove yourself to people who already know—’
‘I’m not,’ Stacey said, simply.
Kim tipped her head and waited for her colleague to continue.
‘I heard what you said almost three years ago,’ Stacey said, biting her bottom lip. ‘Just two words.’
Kim shook her head, no idea what Stacey was referring to.
‘I’d just joined the team. It was my first week and I had no clue what I was doing. I thought I’d made a huge mistake in joining CID. You all seemed to be working around me, doing your jobs, while I sat dumbly on the side like a spectator. I made coffee, I fetched lunch and generally tried not to get in the way.’
Kim nodded. ‘You were just finding your—’
‘Woody came down and spoke to you in the office. He thought I couldn’t hear and offered to have me transferred to another team.’
Kim had almost forgotten. Yes, she remembered it now.
‘Two words, you said to him. When he offered to have me removed from the team you said to him “try it”. I’ve never forgotten.’
Kim did remember but she’d never thought for a minute that Stacey had overheard.
Stacey had found her own niche within the team as Kim had known she would. She had identified a gap in their skills spectrum and had filled it with her superior knowledge of data mining.
Stacey stood. ‘So, you see, boss, I’m not trying to prove anything to anyone. I’m just trying to make you proud.’
Kim opened her mouth to speak but Stacey was already out of the door.
She found herself relieved as she had no clue what she would have said.
Thirty-Seven
‘Okay, folks,’ Kim said, glancing around at her team. ‘Following the performance of Tracy Frost at the press conference yesterday, and the death of Shaun Coffee-Todd, an official statement has been issued from Lloyds House declaring that Sadie Winters was murdered. Her parents were notified last night and understandably are in shock at the news. I suspect we’ll be seeing them later at Heathcrest.’
‘By whom?’ Bryant asked.
‘Sorry?’ Kim asked.
‘Who informed her parents? It wasn’t us.’
‘I suspect it was the same person who was trying to insist it was suicide but that’s not our concern right now.’
Woody’s phone call last night had been terse and cool.
‘So, what are you thinking about Shaun Coffee-Todd?’ Dawson asked.
Kim held up her hand. ‘Slow down, Kev. One kid at a time,’ she said. ‘Sadie first.’ She looked to the detective constable. ‘Stace?’
‘Okay, Principal Thorpe left Heathcrest in 1993 and attended Oxford, where he studied social sciences and economics.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Dawson said. ‘He was a busy boy, wasn’t he?’
‘And did well in all subjects,’ she said. ‘So, he left the education system in 1997, spent five years teaching at a private boys’ school in Kent before returning to Heathcrest in ’02 as a maths teacher, before being promoted to deputy principal in ’09, and principal three years ago when Principal Richmond retired. He has a long-term girlfriend named Catherine.’
‘Christ, Stace, where did you get all that from?’ Bryant asked, impressed.
‘Tinder,’ she joked.
‘Okay,’ Kim said, mentally filing the information away. ‘Next.’
‘Graham Steele left Heathcrest a year after Thorpe and attended Cambridge. He trained as a doctor and then chose to specialise in psychiatry. Volunteers as a counsellor at the QE hospital for child bereavement couples and came back to Heathcrest seven years ago. No wife, kids, boyfriend or girlfriend.’
‘Don’t tell me, Facebook?’ Dawson quipped.
‘Instagram and Twitter,’ Stacey offered with a wink.