Page 59 of Little Children

Thirty-Five

Keats hated calls to water more than any other kind. It was one of the worst environments to find bodies in. Often, the waxy, bloated appearance made the victim look like a grotesque version of their former selves.

He also felt that he was getting too old for these five o’clock callouts.

It wasn’t looking good for his behaviour towards the investigating officer, he thought as he approached the Dudley canal basin. And he knew which one he was hoping for. It was always a bonus if he could work out some of his aggravation by poking at his most adversarial detective inspector. His jibing released his pent-up frustration and ensured he could do his job more efficiently, for which everyone else around him was grateful.

But there was no sign of her presence as he approached the group of high-vis jackets watching the body being removed from the water.

The dive team of six had encased the body in a waterproof body bag to preserve any trace evidence that might still be present. The body bag had then been placed onto a float and was being gently pushed to the edge of the basin.

Amongst the uniforms, Keats spotted one man dressed in a suit and a three-quarter-length jacket. His name was Detective Inspector Waines, and he was known for wearing the camel overcoat on all but the hottest of days.

‘And here’s our resident pathologist looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,’ Waines said, slapping him on the shoulder.

Keats didn’t like him very much, not least because he hadn’t bothered to read the memo about not touching your colleagues.

Although that wasn’t the main reason he disliked the inspector. He was bland, vanilla. He offered no moments of brilliance or creativity. He asked no questions and issued no challenge. Keats couldn’t bounce off him like he could other officers. There was no entertainment value. Keats knew his humour would go right over the detective’s head.

‘Sorry we disturbed your morning cereal, Keats,’ Waines continued with a smirk that said he was nothing of the sort.

Keats ignored him and moved forward to Inspector Plant.

‘Who called it in?’ he asked.

‘A jogger.’

He offered Plant a look. ‘Sorry. Never understood the fascination.’

Plant laughed. ‘Me neither. I’m not keen on any form of exercise that gets me out of bed in the dark before I’m ready to start my shift. Not to mention they’re always finding bodies. This guy bent down to tighten his laces and saw a limb caught on that branch.’

Keats glanced across. Waines was heading towards the jogger, a man in his late twenties.

‘Why’s Waines here?’ he asked. ‘This is Halesowen’s remit, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, but the whole of Halesowen CID is off on a jolly to Blackpool, I heard.’

Keats frowned. He was pretty sure they wouldn’t have all gone to see the lights together, but it was nothing to do with him.

‘Hey, Keats, they’re coming out,’ Mitch called to him.

He went to the side of the basin as the dive team lifted the body bag out.

He kneeled down and slowly unzipped the bag. His gaze swept over the victim as horror hit him right in the chest. Instantly, he knew three things:

The victim had not died by drowning.

The body had not been in the water for very long.

And there was only one person he trusted to work this case.

He took out his phone and made a call.

Thirty-Six

It was six thirty before Kim joined her team for breakfast in the hotel restaurant. She had news, and she wasn’t sure how they were going to feel about it. But first she wanted an update.

‘Learn anything last night?’ she asked as Penn sat down with a full English.