14

‘WE’VE FOUND THE VICTIM’S CAR,’ TULLOCH TOLD ME as we pulled out of the car park.

‘The Lexus?’ I asked.

She nodded. ‘We’ll keep it under surveillance for a couple of days,’ she said.

It was standard procedure. Plain-clothes officers would watch the car, see if anyone approached it. Anyone who showed a particular interest could well have some bearing on why the woman had been in that part of London. On the other hand …

‘Sixty grand’s worth of luxury vehicle on that estate won’t go unnoticed for very long,’ I said.

‘Probably not,’ agreed Tulloch. ‘We found the keys as well. Behind a wall not far from where you found her.’

‘So how …?’I began.

‘We think whoever killed her took the keys, meaning to drive away in her car,’ said Tulloch. ‘The dogs tracked someone to the alley you emerged from, but then he backtracked.’

‘He heard me coming,’ I said.

‘Makes sense,’ said Tulloch. ‘You’d cut off his escape route so he had to change his plans. He ditched the keys, ran further down the block, round the rear of the buildings and made for the A3. The dogs lost him at Kennington Tube.’

‘You must know who she is by now,’ I said. ‘The car would have been registered.’

She nodded. ‘We have a pretty good idea.’

I waited. ‘Are you allowed to tell me?’ I asked, after a moment.

Tulloch sighed. ‘It’ll probably be on the news tonight,’ she said. ‘The car was registered to a Mr David Jones. Lives in Chiswick, married to Geraldine. We’ve got officers round there already, but only the au pair’s at home. I’m on my way over now.’

Geraldine Jones. The name meant absolutely nothing. ‘Can I come?’ I found myself asking.

‘Absolutely not,’ she replied, glancing sideways at me. ‘You should try and get some rest. You look like you need it.’

I couldn’t argue with her on that one. We were silent for a while. There was something I wanted to say to her, I just didn’t know how to start. So she drove and I looked at my fingernails. When I glanced up again, we were on the Wandsworth Road, not far from my flat.

‘I heard there was something unusual about the murder weapon,’ I said, knowing I was chancing my luck.

‘That will definitely not be on the news tonight,’ she replied, with a tiny half-smile as she turned into my road and pulled up against the kerb. I put my hand on the door handle and opened the door. Now or never.

‘I’m sorry I screwed up,’ I said. ‘I know if I’d had my wits about me, she probably wouldn’t have died.’

Tulloch took both hands off the wheel and twisted round in her seat to face me properly. ‘What are you talking about?’ she said.

‘If I’d seen the attack, I could have stopped it,’ I said. ‘Even if it was too late for that, I could have identified who did it.’

She nodded her head slowly. ‘Yes, that’s possible,’ she said. ‘Or I might have two dead women on my hands right now and Southwark would have lost an officer.’

She turned the ignition key and the engine died. ‘In any case,’ she went on, ‘the dogs tracked the killer to the alleyway you came out of, remember? He heard you coming and backtracked. He’d killed her and left her to die before you got anywhere near.’

She was right. I hadn’t thought of that. Oh thank God.

‘Lacey, you’re not responsible for what happened to Geraldine Jones,’ Tulloch went on. ‘If that’s what’s been going through your head, forget it. And get some rest.’

It hadn’t been my fault. Geraldine Jones hadn’t died because of me. I got out of the car and thanked Tulloch for the lift. She told me to turn up at Lewisham first thing on Monday morning and drove away the minute I closed the car door. I watched the silver Mercedes turn on to the main road and felt strangely left out.

Nothing I could do. I was a witness, not an investigating officer, and finally I was home. Tulloch was right, I should rest.

But all around me life was going on and the evening was filled with that golden light September is so often blessed with. It really wasn’t an evening for staying at home alone. Even if you were me. I went inside and jumped in the shower. Thirty minutes later I was on my way out, determined to make up for lost time.

Or maybe not. The top step leading down to my basement didn’t normally have a scruffy-looking girl in a pink jacket standing on it, as though she couldn’t quite make up her mind whether to approach my door or not. She started when I appeared, then moved back and waited for me to join her at pavement level.

‘Lacey,’ she said, to my surprise, because I knew I’d never seen her before. ‘Can I have a word? About the murder last night? There’s something you really need to know.’