Devil in the Detail by A.J. Cross (love letters to the dead .TXT) 📗

her hands and headed for the door. ‘If anybody asks you what this discussion was about, have a quick and realistic response ready.’

He watched the door close on her. If he made this a disciplinary issue, Brophy would be all over it. Everyone here would know the full story or, more likely, stitch it together. He recalled something Judd had said a while ago about Jackson. Something critical, unflattering. They both seemed to have negative views of each other, but Judd was young. He might have expected more insight from Jackson. He shook his head. As an officer, he knew what was expected of him, but officially reprimanding Jackson was similar to pursuing and identifying ‘Sean’, the posh car salesman, or whatever else he was. How would that benefit either Judd or Jackson?

3.30 p.m.

Watts came inside the incident room and headed for Miller. ‘Anything I should know?’

She rolled down her screen and pointed. ‘Jones and Kumar have met with community leaders to discuss and reassure re the current number of feet on the street. For the last two hours they and the other officers you sent have been talking to residents but so far nothing of interest to report, Sarge.’

Traynor was searching the Smartboard screens. ‘How did Mrs Lawrence respond to news of the gun?’

‘Knocked sideways, but she more or less managed to hold it together.’

‘Did she say anything about that?’

‘Only to ask where it was found. She says she wants to talk to you again. Do you still think she’s withholding?’

‘It’s a strong possibility.’

Watts studied him. ‘Are you disappointed at the way it’s going with her?’

Traynor looked up. ‘Disappointment doesn’t enter into it. This is Molly Lawrence’s tragedy. My role is to assist her to move from a fragmented account to one which is sufficiently coherent to assist this investigation. It could also help her to move on with her life. Why do you ask about my disappointment?’

‘Just saying,’ he said, thinking that Judd’s way of talking was infectious.

‘How was she?’ asked Traynor.

‘Probably much the same as when you saw her.’

Traynor reached for his phone and scrolled through it. ‘I’ll see her at her home again. Unless she suggests otherwise.’

‘Home still seems to be her preference. Make it pronto. Brophy’s leash is at breaking point. He wants action.’

‘You’re planning to talk to people who know her and knew Michael?’

‘Yes.’ Watts waited. ‘Something on your mind?’

Traynor looked at him. ‘There is. I’m a hundred per cent sure that whoever shot the Lawrences has zero connection to the November carjackings.’

Watts dropped his coat on the back of his chair, sensing something unsaid. ‘Come on, Will. Drop the other shoe.’

‘You need to send officers to question everybody they find within a one-mile radius of the Lawrence crime scene.’

Watts stared up at him. ‘That would take them to the inner city and the Bristol Road. More feet on the street and Brophy’s demanding a softly-softly approach so as not to rile the locals. Give me a reason to do that.’

Silence built between them, broken by Traynor. ‘Motive is key for any investigation. I can’t recall a case in which there’s been such confusion, such delay in identifying it.’ He sat, his eyes intent on Watts. ‘This was no carjacking gone wrong. My analysis of the gunman’s behaviour says not. I’ve re-evaluated the “execution” theory. Yes, it has one or two associated features: Mike Lawrence killed at close range, shot in the head, which suggests that he was the planned target, but execution-style killings usually occur when the victim is alone. And why Mike Lawrence? I’ve heard nothing about him which indicates that he caused big problems for anybody. Not sufficiently big to have him killed.’

He stopped and looked across at Watts. ‘Here’s a key question: why wasn’t Molly Lawrence shot in the head?’

‘I don’t get—?’

‘It would make more sense. She would have died. As it is, he left her as a witness. Why would he do that?’

‘You tell me.’

Traynor stood, paced, came back to the table and leant on it, his eyes on Watts’ face. ‘The working theory of this investigation was initially homicide-by-stranger. I’ve just given you my views on execution as motive.’

‘So, where does it leave us and why the extended search of the area?’

Traynor sat, his face intent. ‘That area is the one incontrovertible “known” we have. It was chosen by the gunman. I suspect he either knew one or both of the Lawrences or he knew of them. We look for evidence of him in the area where he shot them. Tell officers to ask all residents specific, targeted questions: do they recall seeing anyone close to the time of the shootings who looked out of place? Anyone who, for whatever reason, didn’t appear to fit the area. They need to be asked similar questions about any vehicles seen. Their task is to focus residents’ attention on any anomalies of the kind I’ve described.’

‘You’ll provide the questions?’

‘I trust you to outline what I’ve said. Impress on them to keep it short. Specific.’

Watts stood. ‘I’ll send more officers to the Lawrence scene with an order to work towards the Bristol Road interchange, and I’ll have Julian evaluate whatever information they get as it comes in.’

Checking his watch, he left the office and went up to the incident room, finding Jones and Kumar there.

‘Any news for me?’

They looked at him, dispirited. Jones shook his head. ‘No, Sarge, but the three community leaders we talked to were receptive, once we outlined why we’ve got such a presence there. The residents we met at the community centre didn’t have anything to tell us but they’ve got our contact details and they seemed keen to assist if they do hear anything.’

Watts headed for the whiteboard, looked at the two maps, one showing the cluster of carjackings close to the Bristol Road, the other the Lawrence shooting. The distance between the two scenes still looked small to him.

He turned to other officers sitting nearby. ‘I want you four with Jones and Kumar. You start at