Nightingale arrived, and together we counted cameras. There were at least five that had a good view of the bus stop, not to mention the cameras that Transport for London routinely mounts in its buses. I left a message on Lesley’s phone suggesting she check the camera footage from the 24 bus first. I’m sure she was thrilled when she got it.
She got her revenge by calling me at eight o’clock the next morning.
I hate the winter; I hate waking up in the dark.
‘Don’t you ever sleep?’ I asked.
‘Early bird gets the worm,’ said Lesley. ‘You know that picture you sent me, the one of Brandon Coopertown? I think he boarded a number 24 at Leicester Square less than ten minutes after the murder.’
‘Have you told Seawoll?’
‘’Course I have,’ said Lesley. ‘I love you dearly, but I ain’t going to fuck up my career for you.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘That I had a lead on WITNESS A, one of several hundred generated in the last two days, I might add.’
‘What did he say?
‘He told me to check it out,’ said Lesley.
‘According to Mrs Coopertown he should be back today.’
‘Even better.’
‘Can you pick me up?’ I asked.
‘’Course,’ said Lesley. ‘What about Voldemort?’
‘He’s got my number,’ I said.
I had time for a shower and a coffee before meeting Lesley outside. She arrived in a ten-year-old Honda Accord that looked like it had been used in one too many drug raids. She gave me a sour look as Toby scrambled onto the back seat.
‘This is just a borrow, you know,’ she said.
‘I wasn’t about to leave him in my room,’ I said as Toby snuffled God knows what from the gaps between the seats. ‘Are you sure it was Coopertown?’
Lesley showed me a couple of hard copies. The bus security camera was angled to get a good shot of anyone coming up the stairs and there was no mistaking the face – it was him.
‘Is that bruising?’ I asked. There appeared to be blotches on Coopertown’s cheeks and neck. Lesley said she didn’t know but it had been a cold night, so it could have been from drink.
Because it was Saturday the traffic was merely horrendous, and we made Hampstead in just under half an hour. Unfortunately as we pulled into Downshire Hill I spotted the familiar silver shape of the Jaguar nestled among the Range Rovers and BMWs. Toby started yapping.
‘Doesn’t he ever sleep?’ asked Lesley.
‘I reckon he was on obbo all night,’ I said.
‘He ain’t my governor,’ said Lesley, ‘so I’m going to go do the job. Coming?’
We left Toby in the car and headed for the house. Inspector Nightingale got out of his Jag and intercepted us just short of the front gate. I noticed he was wearing the same suit he had been in the night before.
‘Peter,’ he said, and inclined his head to Lesley. ‘Constable May. I take it this means your search was successful?’
Even the Queen of Perky wasn’t going to defy a senior officer to his face, so she told him about the CCTV footage from the bus and how we were ninety per cent certain, what with the evidence from our ghost-hunting dog, that Brandon Coopertown, at the very least, was WITNESS A if not actually the killer.
‘Have you checked his flight details with Immigration yet?’ asked Nightingale.
I looked at Lesley, who shrugged. ‘No sir,’ I said.
‘So he could have been in Los Angeles when the murder was committed.’
‘We thought we’d ask him, sir,’ I said.
Toby started barking, not his usual annoying yap but proper furious barks. For a moment I thought I felt something, a wave of emotion like the excitement of being in a crowd at a football match when a goal is scored.
Nightingale’s head snapped round to look at the Coopertowns’ house.
We heard a window break and a woman screaming.
‘Constable, wait!’ shouted Nightingale, but Lesley was already through the gate and into the garden. Then she stopped so suddenly that Nightingale and I nearly piled into her back. She was staring at something on the lawn.
‘Jesus Christ, no,’ she whispered.
I looked. My brain kept trying to slide away from the idea that someone had thrown a baby from a first-floor window. Tried to convince me that what I was seeing was a scrap of cloth or a doll. But it wasn’t.
‘Call an ambulance,’ said Nightingale and ran up the steps. I grabbed my phone as Lesley stumbled over to the baby and fell to her knees. I saw her turn the little body over and feel for a pulse. I gave the emergency code and the address on automatic. Lesley bent over and started mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, her mouth covering the baby’s mouth and nose in the prescribed manner.