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  ‘So we can tell them to pack his stuff up now?’ he said, more for want of something to say than because it was relevant.

  ‘If you’ve finished looking,’ Parks agreed. ‘The governor wants to see us all before we go, once Munroe’s finished briefing her.’

  ‘Briefing her?’ Alec asked. ‘What about?’

  Parks shrugged and wandered out into the rec room. Alec watched him go and then turned on Travers. ‘What the hell is up with you?’

  No response.

  ‘Oh, for Christ sake, Trav, stop behaving like a sulky toddler and talk to me.’

  Travers opened his mouth, and for a moment Alec expected a reprimand: a reminder that Travers was senior officer here and Alec should watch his mouth. He would almost have welcomed that. At least it would have been a response of sorts. Instead, he shut his mouth and shook his head. ‘We’ll talk later,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, Alec, you’re right, I am behaving like a prize prat.’

  The sudden climb-down caught Alec off guard, and he wondered if his boss was just placating him. If the later would actually happen. ‘We’d better,’ he said angrily. ‘Trav, I don’t have a clue what this is all about, but it’s spilling over in ways I really don’t like.’

  Travers frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean it’s involving Naomi, and I won’t have that.’

  ‘Naomi? How?’ The sulky look was gone now, replaced by instant concern.

  Alec glanced out into the rec room. Parks was chatting to one of the officers across on the far side of the room. Quickly, he filled Travers in on the events of the night before and the recorded phone call from Jamie Dale. Watching his boss’s face, he saw the concern replaced by shock.

  ‘Is she OK? Alec, if you want to go home—’

  ‘She says she’s all right and I’m to stay. I’ll go along with that for now, but if you know more about this setup than you’ve said so far then you tell me. You owe me that.’

  Travers hesitated, then nodded. ‘We’ll talk later,’ he reiterated. ‘Alec, I’m not—’ He broke off as Parks wandered back into the room. Behind him stood a prison officer carrying a couple of cardboard boxes.

  ‘You all done here?’ Parks asked. ‘I’ve told them if you have then they can pack Robinson’s things away. His sister wants them back.’

  ‘We’re done,’ Travers said. And Alec concurred. There was nothing here – not now. Anything relevant was long gone. Apart, maybe, from the whatever it was that the prisoner had dropped at his feet before he left on the work detail. Alec felt in his pocket, trying to discern what it might be from the size and shape. A small slip of card with a fold in it. He had glanced swiftly at it before pocketing it, and, judging from the blue and white print, it had been torn, he guessed, from a cigarette pack. He knew he should say something – and now, while there was still a chance of speaking directly to the man – but instinct told him that would be a bad thing: certainly for the tall, cropped-haired prisoner who had dropped the slip of paper, and maybe for others too. Alec could not shake the sense of unease and wrongness about this whole setup, or the feeling that he should tell Munroe and company to stuff their investigation, and then go home.

  SIX

  They were shown into Michelle Sanders’ little office. Alec took in the scene: Munroe sitting opposite the prison governor, across a light wood desk that had certainly seen better days and on which a tray and coffee mugs had been set.

  Munroe looked relaxed, leaning back in his chair and smiling as they entered. The governor, small and, Alec guessed, in her late forties, stood up and reached across to shake hands. She looked annoyed, Alec thought. Irritated, and trying to hide it; she wasn’t doing a very good job. Munroe, he observed, seemed to have that effect on people.

  He studied the prison governor with interest. Michelle Sanders had short fair hair with touches of grey showing at the temples and creases round her eyes seeming to indicate that she smiled often. No wedding ring, but an expensive watch. Alec liked watches and identified a Patek Philippe. She was dressed almost casually in black trousers and a lilac shirt, untucked. Closer analysis told him that both items were tailored, fitted and in good quality fabrics that required little embellishment. She indicated that they should sit down, the plastic chairs the same as Alec had seen throughout the prison and which had obviously been hastily assembled. Close packed in the small room, it made for an intimate experience. Travers, last in, chose to stand by the door.

  ‘I’m not sure what more I can tell you,’ Michelle Sanders said as she directed them to help themselves to coffee. ‘Neil Robinson’s death was a tragedy. He was a success story, someone who might have had a future, and the Lord knows we see few enough of those go out through the gates.’

  ‘You sound as though you are taking his death personally,’ Alec said.

  ‘And why shouldn’t I? Every success here is hard won.’

  ‘And it must irk you to know the poison that killed him was probably prepared here. In the prison.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Michelle demanded.

  Yes, what do you mean, Alec wondered, looking at Munroe; this was news to him too.

  ‘The tox report came through an hour ago. I had it sent to my phone. He died of nicotine poisoning, administered via a syringe. It only takes half a pack of smokes to get enough to kill.’

  She stared at him. ‘Then there will be an investigation.’

  ‘The team will arrive later today,’ Munroe confirmed.

  ‘I meant an internal investigation.’

  ‘And I remind you that this is a murder enquiry.’

  ‘And I’m sure Michelle will be cooperative,’ Eddison said.

  There was a brief pause. Stand-off.

  Alec broke it. ‘I know you’ve already talked to my colleagues,’ he said, ‘but if you wouldn’t mind me asking a few questions?’

  She sighed. ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Visitors. I understand he didn’t have any?’

  ‘His sister came three times; his brother-in-law came alone, once. Apparently, he had a business trip that brought him this way, and Robinson’s sister had sent some books over. He came, dropped the books off and saw Robinson briefly. She called him once a week, and I believe he only ever used his phone privileges to call her.’

  ‘So his contact with the reporter, Jamie Dale—’

  ‘Was made via the sister, I believe. He certainly didn’t call her from here; the calls are all logged.’

  ‘Recorded?’

  A withering look from the governor. ‘This is an open prison. The last stop before freedom. Some measure of privacy has to be permitted.’

  ‘Of course,’ Alec said. ‘Did he have close friends here? Enemies? Did he cross anyone?’

  She leaned back in her chair. ‘You lot obviously don’t talk to one another,’ she observed. ‘The only person he seemed to get close to was Frederick Gains. They came here at the same time, but Gains left a month ago. He sent Robinson postcards, and I assume they planned to meet up when Robinson got out.’

  ‘Postcards?’

  ‘Which seem to have walked,’ Munroe said heavily.

  ‘When?’

  ‘It seems no one can tell us that.’ Munroe again. Across the desk, Michelle Sanders glared at him.

  ‘What was Gains in for?’ Alec asked. Parks had told him, but, perversely perhaps, he wanted to hear it from the governor.

  ‘He was the getaway driver in an armed robbery. Had a record of petty theft and burglary as long as your arm. Driving was a step up the career ladder for Gains.’

  ‘Short ladder,’ Munroe said.

  ‘Quite.’ The governor’s tone was icy.

  ‘And has he been in touch since? He must have seen Robinson’s death reported.’

  ‘So far as we know, not. He wasn’t close to any of the other inmates. Gains was an oddball; Robinson looked out for him.’

  ‘Oddball?’

  The governor shrugged. ‘Bright, though you’d never know it to look at him.’


  ‘Does any of this matter?’ Munroe said. ‘It’s all in the files, Alec. You can have access as soon as we leave here.’ He stood. ‘Now, if there’s nothing else, we can leave these good people to get on with their work.’

  Michelle Sanders stood too, obviously glad to be seeing them off the premises.

  Alec did not move. There was an uncomfortable silence as they all stared at him. ‘Enemies,’ Alec asked again, as though there had been no interruption. ‘Did Robinson cross anyone while he was here?’

  The governor’s hands rested on the top of her desk. They clenched now, curling into fists. ‘He kept a low profile,’ she said stiffly. ‘The other inmates in Accommodation Block Three were also close to release; none had a particular history of violence. It isn’t the place you usually get trouble.’

  ‘Usually?’ Alec asked casually.

  Michelle Sanders sighed in exasperation. ‘Look,’ she said. ‘Robinson was an educated man. Something of a snob at times. He rubbed a few people up the wrong way, but nothing came of it beyond the odd bad-tempered spat and a bit of conflict over a game of pool. Gains was a hustler, played like a pro; it could cause a bit of friction.’

  ‘So you’ve told me what the flashpoints were regarding Freddie Gains,’ Alec observed. ‘What was Robinson’s tipping point? Or rather, what was the tipping point regarding Robinson and the rest?’

  ‘There wasn’t one,’ Michelle Sanders told him coldly. ‘As I said earlier, Robinson was a model prisoner. He was a potential success story.’

  ‘Whose superior attitude caused offence sometimes? We all know that what might seem like a small spat, as you call it, in the outside world can fester in a place like this. I’ve seen men knifed because they used a word someone didn’t understand and it was misread as an insult.’

  ‘Nothing like that happened here,’ Michelle Sanders asserted. The hands relaxed now, and so did her tone. So he’d moved too wide of the mark, Alec thought.

  ‘Enough, now,’ Munroe said. ‘We’ve taken up enough time. Michelle, thank you, we’ll get ourselves out of your hair.’

  She looked relieved, Alec thought. For that matter, so did Travers.

  Alec stood up, prepared to go, shifting position so he could see both his boss and the prison governor. Travers held out his hand, and Michelle Sanders shook it automatically, but Alec was watching her face. The anxiety was unmistakable, as was the question in her eyes when she looked at his boss.

  Travers shook her hand and turned away, and Munroe hustled them out of the door.

  Naomi had spent the day with her sister, attending Sue’s first antenatal class with her and then going for lunch at a local pub they both liked.

  ‘I don’t know why I bother with the classes,’ Sue said. ‘I mean, this is the third time, I should know what I’m doing by now.’

  ‘Habit,’ Naomi told her. ‘It’s what you did before, so you’re going through the same process now. Habit is reassuring.’

  ‘Are you analysing me?’ Sue laughed at her older sister. ‘You could be right,’ she admitted.

  ‘You going back to work after?’

  ‘Oh, I think so. Just part time, like I’m doing now. The agency said they’d be happy to have me back, and several of their clients ask for me by name now, so that’s good. Though I had a chat with Harry, did he tell you?’

  Naomi shook her head. ‘What about?’

  ‘Oh, the whole self-employed thing. School holidays are a nightmare and are not going to get better until this new one is old enough to look after herself.’

  ‘Herself ?’

  ‘Or himself. I just think this one is a girl. It feels different, somehow.’

  ‘Are you going to ask when you have the scan?’

  ‘Um, don’t know. We keep talking about it but can’t decide if we’d rather know or if we like the surprise. Anyway, working from home might be a good idea, don’t you think?’

  ‘What would you do?’

  ‘Ah, that’s the thing. It’s going to take a bit of thinking through. Did Alec tell you when he’d be back?’

  ‘No, he hopes only a couple of days.’

  ‘You OK in that big house on your own? I can move the boys into the same room and you can stop over for a day or two.’

  Naomi was tempted. The thought of returning to what she usually regarded as her sanctuary was unnerving her. She loved the house she now shared with Alec, but after the events of the previous evening, she also felt as though it had been invaded, her sanctuary violated.

  ‘I’ll let you know,’ she promised. ‘We’re all going to Patrick’s exhibition tonight, so I might stay over with them or with Mari.’ Mari was Harry’s mother.

  They left it at that and conversation moved to other things. Usually, Naomi reflected, she would have confided in her sister, but today – which was all about the celebration of new life and new plans – it seemed inappropriate. She was desperate not to spoil the mood or to cause Sue anxiety – though she also knew that Sue was going to be furious with her if this all came out later and she discovered that Naomi had been keeping important and potentially threatening things quiet. The sisters had always been close, and since Naomi had been blinded, Sue and her family had given her so much strength.

  Resolving to talk to Harry first, Naomi let the matter lie. Later though, having taken a taxi home from her sister’s house, the anxiety seemed to escalate, and when they pulled up in front of the house, Naomi almost asked her driver to turn around and take her back. George Mallard, the taxi driver, was an old friend. His family had run the small taxi company she regularly used for years.

  ‘George, do you mind helping me in with the shopping?’

  ‘Course I don’t, my dear. Everything all right, is it?’

  She managed a laugh. ‘Yes. Why?’

  ‘Because you’ve been very quiet today. Not yourself, if I may say so.’

  ‘I suppose it’s with Alec being away.’

  ‘He’s been away before,’ George Mallard said pointedly. ‘Naomi, if you’re worried, there are people you can tell, you know that.’

  ‘George?’ Naomi questioned. ‘This sounds more than speculation.’

  George Mallard laughed. ‘Got me there,’ he admitted. ‘Look, he meant no harm, but the wife’s cousin’s boy, he joined the police just under a year ago.’

  ‘PC Watkins,’ Naomi guessed.

  ‘That’ll be the one. Anyway, he happened to mention he’d been over at your place last night, knowing as how we know you. He knows we’re fond of you, you see, and the wife, she thought . . . well, she thought I should make sure you were all right.’

  Naomi laughed. Unexpectedly, she found tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. ‘Thanks, George,’ she said. ‘It’s kind of you all, and he seems like a nice young man. And yes, I’d be grateful if you’d go in with me, just have a quick look around.’

  Inside the house all was very quiet and very still. George did a circuit, checking the windows and the doors and looking out into the garden. ‘Looks like you’ve got a couple of messages,’ he said as they returned to the hall and Naomi prepared to say goodbye. She felt her stomach tighten.

  ‘Probably just Alec,’ she said, even though she knew that Alec would call her mobile and not the home phone. Few people did; all her friends knew that she kept her mobile close to hand almost all the time.

  ‘You want me to . . .?’

  ‘Thanks, George, I think I’d like that.’ She pressed the button to replay the messages, but was met with only two dense blocks of silence.

  George came over and pressed 1471. Number not known, they were told.

  ‘Naomi, maybe it would be better if I took you back to your Sue’s.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m not going to be scared out of my home, George,’ she told him firmly. ‘Anyway, Harry will be here soon. I’m going to Patrick’s exhibition. I’ll be fine.’ He’ll be on the phone to Watkins as soon as he leaves here, she thought. The idea soothed her a little, but she still made d
ouble sure that the door was locked when George Mallard finally left and the silence of the empty house settled around her.

  More silence as Alec and Travers drove back to their hotel. Alec had spent the day looking over Robinson’s files, briefing Parks, Munroe and the now returned Eddison on the Robinson affair as he had seen it from his angle and looking at background information on Freddie Gains. Travers had said little. He had set to work collating information, creating databases both on the board and on the computer, busying himself with tasks Mac doubted he’d done since he’d been a sergeant in uniform. He’d done a good job, Alec admitted grudgingly, but it had not escaped any of them that Travers was doing anything and everything that did not involve him in direct interaction with his colleagues.

  ‘So,’ Alec asked him when they were finally alone. ‘You know Michelle Sanders then?’

  ‘And you think that, why?’

  He hadn’t denied it, Alec noted. ‘The way the pair of you were deliberately trying to give the impression this was the first time you’d set eyes on one another.’

  Travers laughed; a rare sound in the past few days. ‘OK, Alec. Yes, Michelle and I knew one another. Emphasis very strongly on the past tense. It was a long time ago.’

  ‘Knew? In the Biblical sense? This before Maureen, was it?’

  ‘Is that your business, Alec?’ He sounded weary rather than annoyed.

  ‘I don’t know yet, do I?’

  Travers sighed. ‘There was some overlap,’ he admitted. ‘Maureen took a long time to understand just how demanding the job could be. In the early days I was never at home, and when I was we rowed about the fact, so—’

  ‘So you went home even less.’ Alec was familiar with the pattern. ‘Where did you meet? Another bloody conference?’

  ‘Actually, yes, it was. Eddison was there too,’ he added. ‘He was just another delegate, not a speaker. This was years ago. We were looking into computerization, use of databases across the police network. You know how much of a mess it all was to start with.’

  Alec nodded. Computer systems had been set up piecemeal, really only getting any kind of priority in the late eighties, early nineties, and even quite recently there had been no truly centralized system. It took the deaths of two children and several other rather high-profile cases for a proper network covering all police forces and all levels to get prioritized.