Chapters (41)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- About the Author
- Lynda La Plante Reader’s Club
- Letter from the author
‘Where were you yesterday morning?’ Baxter asked.
‘What time did this robbery occur?’
‘About 9.45,’ Baxter said.
‘I was at work until eleven o’clock Thursday morning, then drove home and didn’t get back here until about half past. You can check it out with my work colleagues—’
‘You got two cars then?’ Baxter asked.
‘Yeah, my wife used the Cortina mostly, for shopping and running the kids to and from school.’
‘What’s your other car?’ Baxter asked.
‘A BMW 323i, which I now keep in the garage, for obvious reasons.’
‘Then what’s your wife using now?’ the Colonel asked.
‘My car if I’m not using it, and public transport if I am.’
‘What do you do for a living?’ the Colonel asked.
‘I’m in the London Fire Brigade, as a senior fire investigator based in the West End. I’m night shift this week and was called out to a residential arson at two o’clock Thursday morning. Someone poured petrol through a letterbox, thankfully no one was hurt, and I worked the scene with a scientist and one of your lab liaison sergeants.’
‘Who was the sergeant?’ Baxter asked, ready to write the name down.
‘Paul Lawrence. I’ve worked a few arson scenes with him before and socialised with him at forensic conferences.’
‘Why didn’t you tell us you were a fireman earlier?’ the Colonel asked.
‘I would have done if you’d asked, but I didn’t think it had anything to do with why you came to see me.’
‘Well, it certainly puts things in a different light . . . Was there anything in your wife’s handbag with your address on it?’
‘She didn’t think so at the time, but it’s possible. Our bloody house keys were in her handbag as well, so I had to have the front door locks changed – which wasn’t cheap.’
‘Can I have a look at the vehicle registration certificate for the previous keeper?’
‘I bought it off the station officer on Red Watch at Soho where I work. Mick Goddard – he lives in Romford.’
Braun got the document from a drawer in the kitchen and gave it to Baxter, who wrote down Goddard’s details in his pocket notebook.
‘Look, my car was obviously started with a key, but from personal experience in dealing with burnt-out cars I have known cases where a different, but similar, key has been used to start a stolen car.’
‘It’s possible that’s what happened, and I’ll discuss it with the traffic officer who examined your car,’ the Colonel said.
‘Can you tell me where the car is now? I’ll need to inform the insurance company.’
‘It’s at the Met lab in Lambeth undergoing examination. You know where that is?’ Baxter replied.
‘We submit our fire investigation exhibits there for examination, so yes, I know where it is.’