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‘Nothing doing. It’ll need charging. I’ll get it to Digital Forensics as soon as I get back.’
He holds it up in its plastic evidence bag and turns it from side to side. ‘Looks like a cheap job to me, maybe a burner.’
He hears her intake of breath. ‘Well, let’s hope it’s the killer’s. We could do with a break.’
***
Asante pulls over on to the side of the road and turns off the engine. It’s a tightly packed close of small modern houses, part of a much bigger estate on the outskirts of Leamington Spa. ‘A bit Poundbury’, as Bradley has just observed, but even if the houses are small there are proper windows and the brickwork is nice. There are views over the fields too, but only the big detached houses on the far side get those. He glances over at Bradley, who’s been reading through the file on Finn O’Brien on the way.
‘So what do you think?’
Bradley looks up. ‘Of all the men on all the apps on all the web, Kate Madigan pickedhim? Jesus, he’s putting my feet to sleep and I haven’t even met the bloke.’
Asante shrugs. ‘Maybe she was looking for someone safe.’
‘As in, someone so gobsmacked he could possibly have landed a woman like her he wasn’t about to rock the boat by asking too many questions?’
‘Could be.’
Bradley doesn’t look convinced. ‘It’s still a huge risk. Not least because there must be stuff in her house that would give the game away, however well she thought she’d hidden it. She was really that desperate to get laid?’ She holds up her phone with the picture of O’Brien. ‘And bythis guy?’
Asante grins. ‘He does say he’s a dab hand with a sausage.’
Bradley gives him a can’t-believe-you-just-said-that look. ‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, while endeavouring to come up with a devastatingly witty Abba reference.’
The front door is opening now and Finn O’Brien comes out on to the step. He’s wearing – Bradley is staggered to see – exactly the same shirt and shorts he has on in his dating profile. A moment later a little girl of about seven or eight comes skipping out to join him. She’s wearing a fairy outfit complete with wings and a wand.
‘Oh dear,’ says Bradley with a sigh, ‘I think we may be about to spoil the party.’
***
Phone interview with Xanthe Malthouse, Dry Riser Films Inc., 2856 W Sunset Boulevard, Los Angeles
29/07/2024, 3.17 p.m.
On the call, DS V. Everett
VE:I was hoping to speak to Nick Vincent? This is Detective Sergeant Verity Everett of Thames Valley Police, in the UK.
XM:[slight delay on the line]
I’m afraid Mr Vincent isn’t available right now.
VE:This is very urgent. It concerns a murder inquiry. I do need to speak to him.
XM:Mr Vincent is currently out of the country on vacation.
VE:Where?
XM:I beg your pardon?
VE:Where is he on vacation?
XM:[pause]
He’s in the UK, actually.
VE:Even better – could I have the address?