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Eating the chicken tikka pasty he’d bought at the service station on his way in, Thurstan thumbed through the surveillance log for the previous 24 hours.
Something unusual caught his eye. Pasty down, he turned the pages back and forth then took it with him as he walked into the main office. “Alison!” He waved her over. “Get in touch with whoever’s got the eyeball on Nickson’s parents’ place.” He showed her the log. “The female who turned up the other day. She went out yesterday and, according to this, she hasn’t come back.”
Spud quickly read through the report. “She never took her suitcase with her, Boss.”
“I know but an hour or so later the old man was seen putting a couple of big, heavy-duty plastic sacks in the boot and one on the back seat. It could have been hidden in them.” He left her with the log, then: “Oh, and just to be sure, speak to the crew who were on yesterday. Can they confirm or did they miss something?”
“But they’ll probably still be kipping,” she called back.
“Not my problem, wake them up.”
He’d finished his pasty and had waded through what seemed like a hundred e-mails when his DS came and told him the bad news.
“So, she’s gone?” he looked up at her.
She pulled an apologetic face and nodded at him. “I’m afraid so, Boss.”
He swore under his breath. “Ok, not much we can do about it now. Thanks, Alison. Did we have to wake anyone up?”
Another face. “Well, I did,” she replied with an equally sad little smile.
On his way to the canteen, he stood waiting for the lift. The beef curry was reported as being wonderful.
“Alright, Thurstan. See your mate’s on his way back.”
He stopped inspecting his shoes and looked up. “Trevor. Haven’t seen you for a while. What mate’s that?”
He grinned, “You’ve not heard then. Your mate, from SB, Devilliers. The Met have tossed him back to us and he’s going to be the next ACC Crime. You might want to dust off your CV, matey.” He patted him on the shoulder and bade a cheery farewell.
The lift slid open. It was empty. He stepped in, pushed for the ground floor and, when the doors closed, leant his forehead against the mirror uttering a soft expletive.