I did. But I was hoping for a peer-to-peer dialogue with someone slightly less starchy. The fact she’s two ranks higher has thrown a rusty spanner in the works.
‘Oh, I just wanted to get your take, you know?’ I know it sounds lame, but I’m not about to accuse a DI of doing a slapdash job. I do have some career aspirations. ‘You took her statement. You probably knew her best.’
‘My take?’ She snaps her brownie in two, somehow making it a barbed gesture. ‘Well, it’s hard to have a “take” on someone you met over six years ago, but as I remember, she was helpful, forthcoming, articulate, a model citizen. My “take”, as you put it, was probably that you don’t get handed a dream witness like that too often, so make the most of it.’
‘And yet she wasn’t a dream witness, was she?’
‘Meaning?’
‘Well, the CPS didn’t think so.’
I settle back for the rant. Utter the phrase ‘CPS’ and it’s like Pavlov’s dogs for disgruntled officers.
Grainger shrugs, the very opposite of disgruntled. ‘The CPS applied the Full Code Test and decided that with no body and no DNA, the evidential standard wasn’t met.’ She takes a sip from the bottle, staring at me, glassy-eyed. ‘That doesn’t make Serena Bailey a bad witness.’
That doesn’t mean I took a half-arsed statement.
‘No, of course not.’
She glances at her watch, definitely a power move. ‘Look, Cat – it is Cat, isn’t it?’ Pretending to forget my name – there’s another. ‘Much as I’m grateful for the sugar hit, I’m an extremely busy woman right now. Why don’t you just come out and say what’s on your mind?’
I shouldn’t really. I should check in with Steele first, or at the very least with Parnell. But then, my life’s rarely been governed by what I should and shouldn’t do. And that’s precisely why Susie Grainger’s sat there with her inspector’s badge, and I’m still measuring success by whether I’ve managed to get through the day without a bollocking from Steele.
But fuck it.
‘OK, did you ever find anything off about her, Serena Bailey?’
‘Off?’ She thinks about this for a second, then leans right in, freckled forearms on the table. ‘You know, Cat, there are three things Tess Dyer taught me about getting ahead in this job.’ She holds up a finger. ‘I mentioned one of them – don’t let the grass grow. Be committed, but always have your eye on the next job.’ Another finger. ‘Second – shout about your achievements, because you better be damn sure the men are going to be shouting about theirs. And three . . .’ Her wedding finger this time; a diamond the size of a Walnut Whip, ‘. . . and this is what you need to pay attention to – say what you mean and in the shortest way possible. Don’t dance around it. Don’t say, “Did you ever find anything off about her?” when what you actually mean is, “Do you think she lied about anything?” ’
‘Well, do you?’
‘No, definitely not.’ She sits back, offering another pro forma smile. ‘See, we got that cleared up nice and quick once you stopped pussy-footing around.’
I could credit her with being perceptive, or I could take the more obvious view that Dyer’s been in touch. Nothing cynical in that, of course. If one of your cases is being re-investigated, it’s only natural you’d want to get the band back together. To remind yourself that you worked with the best and the decisions you took were sound. I’ve absolutely no doubt that’s what Dyer and Oliver Cairns were doing after we left the pub last night, and it stands to reason that Grainger needs the same assurances.
Thing is, I’m not questioning DI Susie Grainger’s competence. I’m questioning wet-behind-the-ears DC Susie Ferris’s experience. Her second case, working for a DCI who was under considerable personal and professional pressure, with barely time to brief her team properly, I bet, never mind babysit rookies – that’s where balls get dropped. That’s where less obvious leads don’t get followed up and statements aren’t taken as thoroughly as they could be.
It’s nobody’s fault. It just is. Give us the manpower and the budget and we’ll be the superheroes we’re supposed to be.
So again, fuck it.
‘I went to see Serena Bailey’s old employer earlier. Their absence records put her at work in North London on the afternoon of the 23rd. Way up North – Edgware.’ Before she can say it, I add, ‘They’re not always one hundred per cent accurate, of course, nothing ever is.’
I tell her what Mrs Gopal said, near verbatim. She listens, poised as ever, cocking her head this way and that. Interestingly, she doesn’t interrupt once, and if I wasn’t a lot wiser, I’d say she looks almost grateful for the heads-up.
‘Wow, that’s thorough work, Cat.’ I’m not sure if I feel patronised or galvanised by her approval. It doesn’t last long, though. Her tone changes in a flash. ‘But it doesn’t change the fact her statement was – is – foolproof. It fits with the evidence. The time she saw Holly on Valentine Street, a twenty-minute walk from the Tube station, chimes exactly with the time Holly was captured leaving the Tube. Her description fits. She described exactly what Holly was wearing.’ I nod. ‘And most importantly, what reason would she have to lie?’
I’ve got no answer for this. Her logic trumps my instinct every time.
‘It doesn’t change the fact her statement wasn’t checked thoroughly, or held up to any real scrutiny,’ I say. ‘If Holly’s case had got to court, that could have been problematic.’
‘But it didn’t, so what’s the issue?’ For perhaps the first time ever, I feel like the jobsworth. The pen-pusher. The whiny pipsqueak prefect. ‘And anyway, what do you mean by “checked”? I ran her through the PNC, made sure she didn’t have a record or any form for nuisance calling, wasting police time, the usuals. She was clean – like I say, a model citizen. What else should I have done? Give me one good reason why I should have questioned her account, or why we should question it now.’
I have several but I’m taking them back to the office. Grainger stands up, clearly keen to get back to hers.
‘Seriously . . .’ Her voice is softer now. ‘It was worth following up – well done, go to the top of the class. But you heard your Mrs Gopal. Human error. Someone forgot to mark her absent, that’s all. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got get back and so should you. Do your career a favour, Cat – go and solve some cases that actually need solving.’
11
‘That was a long pint. I’m surprised you can stand.’
I could twirl through this office wearing nothing but a pair of angel wings and Pete Flowers wouldn’t notice. Give him the chance to clock that I’m missing, though, and suddenly he’s Hawkeye. The guy doesn’t miss a trick.
‘Ah well, you know the Irish, Sarge. Takes more than a four-hour sesh to floor us.’ I turn to Parnell. ‘Obviously, I haven’t been drinking. Hey, did you track down Church Guy? I double-checked and her friends definitely don’t recognise him. Odd, right? Holly obviously meant something to him and yet her closest mates haven’t a clue who he is? Seems fishy.’