Chapter 25
PC Donna De Freitas had got the news the previous morning to report to CID. Elizabeth was a quick worker.
She had been assigned to the Tony Curran case as Chris Hudson’s “shadow.” A new Kent Police initiative, something to do with inclusivity, or mentoring, or diversity, or whatever the guy from HR in Maidstone had said when he rang her.
Whatever it was, it meant she was sitting on a bench overlooking the English Channel while DCI Chris Hudson ate an ice cream.
None of this happened. Donna simply read exactly what Chris had read, a potted history of a man getting away with murder and then being murdered in turn. No smoking guns, no inconsistencies, nothing to peel back. But she had enjoyed it nonetheless.
“That’s something you don’t get in South London, eh?” says Chris, pointing to the sea with his ice cream cone.
“The sea?” asks Donna, making sure.
“The sea,” agrees Chris.
“Well, you’re right there, sir. There’s Streatham ponds, but it’s not the same.”
Chris Hudson is treating her with a kindness she senses is genuine, and with a respect that could only come with being good at his job.
If she was ever to work for Chris permanently, she would have to do something about the way he dressed, but that was a bridge that could be crossed in good time.
He really took the expression “plainclothes” seriously.
Where does someone even buy shoes like that? Was there a catalog?
“Fancy a trip out to see Ian Ventham?” says Chris now. “Have a little chat about his argument with Tony Curran?”
Elizabeth had come good again. She had rung Donna and given a few more details about the row that Ron, Joyce, and Jason had witnessed. They would still have to go and visit in person, but it was something to be going on with.
“Yes, please,” says Donna. “Is it uncool to say ‘please’ in CID?”
Chris shrugs. “I’m not really the person to ask whether something is cool, PC De Freitas.”
“Can we fast-forward to the bit where you start calling me Donna?”
Chris looks at her, then nods. “Okay, I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything.”
“What are we looking for with Ventham?” she asks. “Motive?”
“Exactly. He won’t give it to us on a plate, but if we just watch and listen, we’ll pick a couple of things up. Let me ask the questions, though.”
“Of course,” says Donna.
Chris finishes off his cone. “Unless you really want to ask a question.”
“Okay,” she says, nodding. “I probably will want to ask one. Just to warn you.”
“Fair enough,” Chris says, then stands. “Shall we?”