Ffion’s bent over the data, and for a second he thinks she looks guarded. ‘Maybe he had an argument,’ he says.
‘For seven hours?’
‘He could have been shagging.’
‘I refer my learned friend to my earlier rebuttal.’
‘Drugs, then,’ Leo says. ‘Yasmin said he wouldn’t touch them because they mess with the vocal cords, but she wouldn’t be the first wife not to have a clue what her husband was up to. Or maybe someone slipped something into his drink.’
‘In that case,’ Ffion says, ‘we’re wasting our time looking at the locals – the party started hours after the data shows a heart-rate spike.’
‘Plenty of suspects at The Shore, though. Not to mention plenty of opportunity: I doubt that lot waited till seven-thirty to open the champagne. Did you see their recycling bins? They must have it on their cornflakes.’
‘Granola,’ Ffion says. ‘They wouldn’t have anything as common as cornflakes.’
‘Have they all given elims?’ Uniformed officers have been tasked with requesting elimination fingerprints from all the owners who consented, a process which will also need to be undertaken with every guest identified as being at the party.
Ffion opens the file. ‘Clemence Northcote refused permission for her son.’
‘Refused?’
‘She says Caleb spent the evening hanging out with the Lloyd twins in the Northcote lodge, a story which is backed up by the twins themselves.’
Leo looks over Ffion’s shoulder. ‘I see Caleb’s got previous.’
‘Cut his teeth at eleven with shoplifting, then graduated to theft from person. He’s currently on a tag – three-month curfew – and a two-year supervision order, after he and a mate robbed a petrol station.’
‘Charming. How about the others?’
‘Bobby Stafford’s got a bit of historic stuff – all before he got famous, and mostly breach-of-the-peace stuff. Everyone else is clear. Jonty Charlton – no previous – refused elims. Doesn’t trust us to destroy them, blah blah blah. One of those who rants about CCTV and ID cards but hands over all his personal data to Waitrose. He won’t give a voluntary interview either. ‘“Either I’m a suspect or I’m not”，’ Ffion mimics. “And if I’m not a suspect, why should I be interrogated?”’
‘I hate people like that.’
‘Me too.’
‘I hope he did it.’
‘Me too.’
They grin at each other, and Leo thinks what a shame it is, that after this job they’ll go their separate ways. Leo hasn’t clicked like this with a colleague for a long time.
With anyone, come to think of it.
A name on the elim list catches his eye and he points at the screen. Seren Morgan. ‘Any relation?’
Ffion closes the file. ‘My sister.’
‘Your sister was at the party?’
‘To be fair, I’m related to at least half the people on this list, so . . .’
‘It says she refused to give elims.’ Around them, people start standing, and picking up notebooks, and Leo looks at his watch.
‘You know what teenagers are like,’ Ffion says. ‘It’s all hashtag defund the police, and where are my civil liberties? Nightmare. Come on, we’re going to be late.’
They follow the trickle of people down a narrow corridor lined with framed certificates. Ffion takes them in as they pass, and Leo hopes she’ll lose interest before they get to—
‘It’s you!’ She stops abruptly, reading the commendation out loud. ‘“For his brave and selfless actions while off-duty, resulting in the apprehension of a violent offender”。’
Short of pushing past her, Leo has nowhere to go, so he nods shortly and stares at the wall.
‘Wow. Da iawn, mate. Closest I’ve ever come to a commendation is a letter from a councillor saying I was a great help in addressing the dog-fouling problem around the village hall.’ She grins. ‘Shit, right?’
‘Yeah, well.’ Leo nods towards the briefing room. ‘We should . . .’
They gave him his own framed copy. Leo wanted to smash it, but he isn’t the dramatic type, so instead it’s in a box in what should be Harris’s room.
Brave and selfless? That’s not what Allie called him.
‘Are you coming in or what?’ Crouch shouts. Leo and Ffion join the others around the long, wide table. ‘Hey . . .’ The DI nods towards Leo, as he addresses the rest of the room. ‘How do you make a Scouser run faster? Stick a DVD player under his arm!’