Page 97 of The Scene of the Crime

‘I’m not stupid, Mike. I’ll let you know how I get on tomorrow.’ Wood got back in his car.

‘What was that all about?’ Jessica asked, sitting in her car with the door open.

Chapman leaned in. ‘He’s got an informant who might have some useful information, but somehow I doubt it. I’m going to leave it until the morning to tell Anderson about Palmer, Wheeler and our conversation with Pauline Holland. I don’t feel like arguing with him over the phone.’

‘In that case, I’m not letting you do it alone. We’re in this together, and Anderson needs to hear all the facts . . . from both of us,’ Jessica said.

‘Thanks, I could do with your support. Anyway, we’re both knackered and need to get some sleep. Shall we meet here early and review everything we’ve got before speaking to Anderson?’

‘Yes. I think that would be useful. What time?’

‘There’s a lot to discuss, and Anderson usually gets in between eight and nine. Is between six and six thirty too early?’

She shook her head. ‘That’s fine by me.’

‘Convincing him that Palmer might be innocent won’t be easy . . .’

‘Only a fool would ignore the evidence. That said . . .’

Chapman laughed and eased her car door shut as she started the engine. He stood watching her drive out. ‘You’re quite something, Jessica Russell,’ he said to himself.

* * *

As DS Wood entered the Rose and Crown in Woodford Green, he saw Richard Stubbings sitting in the corner, reading the paper. ‘I’ll have a pint of Guinness, Stubbs,’ he said as he approached.

Stubbings got up and winced as he shook Wood’s hand.

‘How are you doing, Stubbs?’

‘Not bad, mate. Bloody sciatica is not getting any better though.’

‘You have had that for months now. Have you been to the doctor?’

‘Yeah. He said it might be nerve damage, put me on meds and gave me a load of exercises to do. Even suggested fucking Pilates. All bollocks, so it looks like I’m stuck with it.’

‘Sorry to hear that.’

‘I can live with it. The pain is not too bad, but it’s given me a limp.’

‘How’s work going?’

‘Just had an interesting job in the Costa del Sol. I spent a week in Marbella, with all expenses paid by the client.’

‘What was that about then?’

‘Following a cheating husband. He spent every night in the Navy Bar in Puerto Banús. The place is full of expensive, gorgeous hookers. The guy’s got his own haulage company and is loaded. Anyway, I managed to befriend him, and he even treated me to a night of debauchery with two gorgeous tarts. I got a few pictures of him shagging one of them. The result is his wife wants a divorce and half of everything he’s got, which is a bloodyfortune. I felt a bit sorry for him. I mean, it wasn’t as if he had a proper bit on the side. Guinness, wasn’t it?’

Wood shook his head in dismay as Stubbings limped to the bar. He could tell he was trying to big up his private investigator job and actually wished he was still a detective investigating murders and serious crimes. But then again, Stubbs only had himself to blame.

‘Cheers, Woody,’ Stubbings said as he handed him his pint.

‘Cheers. So, what have you got for me on the De Klerk case?’ Wood asked, taking a sip of his Guinness.

‘This is strictly between us, OK? The client made me sign a non-disclosure agreement. If they found out I gave you any information, it could destroy me financially and the PI company I’m a partner in.’

‘You know you can trust me, Stubbs.’

‘I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you if I didn’t. We go back a long way, Woody, and we always had each other’s backs.’