‘I heard about last night’s fires.’
Once more, Charlie kicked herself. This was why she was here, to make sure Thomas and his family were up to speed with developments and yet in her own blundering way she had left it to Thomas to bring it up.
‘Of course. That’s why I wanted to see you – to answer any questions you may have about them.’
‘Are they connected?’
‘It’s a bit early to say. We’ll know more later when we have the forensics reports. But the MO appears to be similar.’
Everyone at Southampton Central was assuming the perpetrator was the same, but no one would say it publicly.
‘Is there any connection to Spence? With these latest …’
‘Nothing so far. There’s nothing in his accounts to suggest he’d lent to any of last night’s victims and the individuals concerned don’t appear to have heard of him.’
‘So this is something else then?’
Charlie paused, uncertain how best to respond, and before she could do so, Thomas Simms added:
‘Karen’s death and Alice and Luke … they’re all part of something … bigger?’
‘That’s what we’re trying to find out.’
‘Well perhaps you could fucking hurry up.’
It was spat at her with such venom that Charlie was struck dumb.
‘I don’t think you get it, do you? Any of you. You come in here with your platitudes and good wishes, but I’m dealing with a terrified sixteen-year-old boy whose whole life has been crushed and who is looking to me for answers as to why his mother is dead. Is it something he did? Is it something I did? Or is it because some crazy fucking psychopath wants to burn down the whole city?’
‘Believe me we’re pulling out all the stops –’
‘Well it doesn’t look that way to me. So stop mollycoddling me and do something. Get out there and do your bloody job.’
With that he turned back to Alice, dismissing Charlie once and for all.
On her way out, Charlie kept her head down once more. But this time it wasn’t to avoid entreating glances. It was to hide her shame.
42
Helen awoke with a start. For a moment, she had no idea where she was or how she’d got there. Then slowly the pieces started to fall into place and, taking in the familiar surroundings, she recollected her decision to sleep in her office. There had seemed little point going home given the late finish, and she’d had a day bed installed some time ago for such eventualities.
‘Helen?’
It was softly spoken but still made her jump. Someone was in the room with her. The voice wasn’t familiar or at least not in this context. Straightening up, she was surprised to find Gardam standing in the doorway.
‘Sorry, I did knock three times, but you didn’t seem to hear me.’
His eyes were cast down as he spoke and Helen realized that she was still half dressed. Torn between sitting like an idiot with a sheet pulled across her chest or getting dressed, she chose the latter – scurrying across to the wardrobe and rifling through it for a fresh blouse and suit. As she pulled her clothes on, Gardam carried on speaking, his eyes still fixed to the floor to spare her blushes.
‘I know the team’s due in shortly and I wanted to catch you before your briefing, so we can talk about our media strategy. The press conference is scheduled for eleven a.m.’
Smoothing down her clothes, Helen emerged from her impromptu changing area. She had her professional face on now, but felt embarrassed at having been caught out in this way.
‘I meant to talk to you about that,’ she replied evenly. ‘Press liaison isn’t really my thing –’
‘It’s ok. I’m happy to field them if you want, but if you change your mind –’
‘Thank you, sir. I think it’s important that I stay with the team.’
‘I agree. So what have we got for them?’
‘Well, we’re still sifting the intel from last night, but we do have one interesting lead – CCTV footage of a man running away from the house in Bevois Mount shortly before the blaze began. I’ve run off stills that we should share with the media – see if anyone recognizes him. I’m also going to show them to Gary Spence – I’d like to see his reaction, in case the man turns out to be one of his lackeys. But in truth I’m not holding out much hope. We’ve yet to establish any link between Spence and the properties targeted last night and I’m just not sure it’s his style – it’s a very public and messy way to conduct business.’
‘So what are we looking at?’
‘Well, they could be personally motivated attacks, given the concerted effort to kill. Or they could be about the fires themselves – somebody enjoying the chaos they’ve created, without a thought for the human cost.’
‘So what line do we want to take with the press?’
‘We appeal for witnesses, stress the need for vigilance and bring them up to speed with our progress.’
Helen continued in this vein, trying to sound upbeat about their ongoing searches, but truth be told – CCTV aside – there was nothing ‘juicy’ for the press to get their teeth into yet. Helen wasn’t sure how Gardam would react to this. Some station chiefs seemed to relish disappointing the fourth estate – depriving them of sensational titbits they craved – others panicked if they didn’t have anything substantial to lay before them. Helen despised these appeasers, but Gardam didn’t appear to be one of them. He seemed supremely relaxed about the grilling he was about to undergo.
‘How is the team?’ he continued, changing the subject without warning.
‘Tired but determined.’
‘And you?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘I’m sure you are, but don’t feel you have to take the weight of the world on your shoulders, Helen. I know you like to lead from the front, but we’re a team – or at least we should be.’
‘Of course.’
‘Which is a roundabout way of saying that my door’s always open. It’s important that senior officers have someone they can talk to.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Speaking of which, I was going to ask you if you would like to come round to dinner at our place one evening? Sarah and I would love to get to know you a little better, in less formal surroundings.’
‘That’s very kind of you.’
‘We’ll make a date, then. And of course you should feel free to bring someone with you, if you want.’
It was said in an open, friendly manner, but Helen could sense that a question lay beneath Gardam’s amiable offer.
‘Just me, I’m afraid,’ Helen replied.
‘And are you ok with that?’
For a moment, Helen was silent – surprised by the bluntness of the question.
‘I don’t mean to pry,’ Gardam continued. ‘But I’m aware that you don’t have any family locally and I’ve seen talented officers get eaten up by the pressures of the job, simply because they don’t have anyone to share their burden with. I’d hate to see that happen to you. Do you have someone you can talk to?’
‘I have a very supportive team,’ Helen replied cautiously.
‘And outside of that?’
‘Really I’m fine. But if it ever gets too much, I’ll be sure to let you know.’
‘I’ll hold you to that. And I meant what I said. I’m happy to talk any time – I don’t want there to be any barriers between us. It’s not in your best interests and it’s certainly not in mine.’
Smiling, he patted her on the shoulder and took his leave, bestowing his cheery optimism on the officers who were starting to gather in the incident room as he left. It had been a pleasant enough encounter, but it left Helen with many questions. Why had be been probing her for information? Why was he so interested in her personal life?
And how long had he been standing there before she woke up?