Chapters (130)
- Cover
- FIND THEM DEAD
- Dedication page
- Maps
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- FOUR MONTHS LATER
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- 26
- 27
- 28
- 29
- 30
- 31
- 32
- 33
- 34
- 35
- 36
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- 42
- 43
- 44
- 45
- 46
- 47
- 48
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- 53
- 54
- 55
- 56
- 57
- 58
- 59
- 60
- 61
- 62
- 63
- 64
- 65
- 66
- 67
- 68
- 69
- 70
- 71
- 72
- 73
- 74
- 75
- 76
- 77
- 78
- 79
- 80
- 81
- 82
- 83
- 84
- 85
- 86
- 87
- 88
- 89
- 90
- 91
- 92
- 93
- 94
- 95
- 96
- 97
- 98
- 99
- 100
- 101
- 102
- 103
- 104
- 105
- 106
- 107
- 108
- 109
- 110
- 111
- GLOSSARY
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- NOW A MAJOR ITV SERIES
- I FOLLOW YOU
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- DISCOVER THE ROY GRACE BOOKS
- FIND THEM DEAD
- The Detective Superintendent Roy Grace books in order
- Also by Peter James
Meg looked up and saw Trout pop the lid off a plastic lunch box, remove a stick of carrot and crunch on it with small, sharp-looking incisors. She noticed, for the first time, what a very small mouth the man had, as well as virtually no chin at all. He was rather odd-looking altogether, thin and angular, with a greying comb-over, glasses perched on a beak of a nose and a bobbing, protruding Adam’s apple above the collar of his checked shirt which was at least one size too big for him. He wore a drab tweed jacket, a lichen-coloured tie, grey flannels and sandals over socks. He reminded her of one of Laura’s rodents.
‘Well,’ Meg said, calmly but defensively. ‘I think it’s a bit early to start forming any judgements. The prosecution hasn’t finished giving evidence and we haven’t yet heard any of the defence witnesses.’
Trout tapped the pile of spreadsheets. ‘It’s all here, all we need to know. That Financial Investigator lady is pretty sharp. The Iceberg, she called him.’ He gave a rather smug smile. ‘I’d say that is a pretty accurate description. So much so very cleverly concealed.’
To Meg’s surprise, Maisy suddenly interjected. ‘I think we need to bear in mind that the defendant is a criminal solicitor – a specialist in legal aid cases. I once worked for a legal aid law firm and, I can tell you, they are very poorly paid, for what they do. They are decent, dedicated people who really struggle financially.’
‘And your point is?’ Trout said, rather petulantly.
‘In my experience, the police hate lawyers – certainly criminal ones, and legal aid ones. They don’t like the idea of them defending people they believe are clearly guilty. We need to consider whether this case against Mr Gready could be a police conspiracy – a vendetta. We’ve seen a long history of falsified or unsafe evidence given by police in the past. The Birmingham Six is one. The recent enquiry into the Met Police investigation of high-profile sexual abuse accusations is another. Who’s to say this is not yet another case of trumped-up evidence?’
Good for you! Meg thought. Maisy seemed to change her mind a lot.
Trout tapped the spreadsheets again. ‘These, madam. These are irrefutable, in my humble opinion.’
‘I’m a payroll clerk,’ Maisy said. ‘And I’ve been studying these spreadsheets carefully myself. I agree with our foreperson.’ She nodded at Meg. ‘It is certainly a convoluted trail of shell companies and bank accounts, but I’ve not yet seen anything that comes anywhere near to establishing beyond doubt any link between the defendant and these companies.’
Trout removed another carrot and crunched on it, noisily, looking miffed. When he had finished, he said, ‘Clearly, the man is devilishly clever, I will concede that.’
‘And since when,’ Maisy Waller asked, ‘has being devilishly clever been a crime?’