The Memory of Blood by Christopher Fowler

Author:Christopher Fowler
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780345532138
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2012-03-26T22:00:00+00:00

‘Forget this rubbish about Punch and bloody Judy,’ Raymond Land warned the PCU staff. ‘Let Bryant and May wander around the country looking at puppet theatres while we concentrate on the basics of criminal investigation, before the whole of the bloody Met starts laughing at us again.’ Bryant had ill-advisedly left a message apprising Land of his whereabouts. Perhaps his note should not have read: Gone to see puppets at the seaside. Back soon.

‘Bring in the usual suspects from around Blackfriars and Cannon Street. Run a check on the hostels, see if they’ve had any trouble. Any offices that were working late, bus drivers, cabbies, street sweepers, tube workers, anyone who might have seen him. I want some answers today. Who were Gregory Baine’s enemies? Close friends? Work colleagues? Talk to the girlfriend. Who’s his family? What were his movements last night? Come on, you all know the routine. How the bloody hell did he end up underneath Cannon Street Bridge? Was he killed before being strung up? If so, how did the killer get his body there? Where did he park? And the doll of the hangman, where was that bought?’

‘We’re already getting answers to some of those questions,’ said Janice, checking her notes. ‘Baine’s girlfriend had dinner with him last night at The Square, which is a restaurant in Mayfair. He left very abruptly after getting a message from the maître d’ at around nine-fifteen. We’ve questioned the waiter who took the call. Baine told his girlfriend he had to meet someone for a quick drink—didn’t say who or why, but said he was heading over to Cannon Street. She reckons he was in a very odd mood when he left—preoccupied. His PA doesn’t know about any privately arranged appointments, suggested I talk to Robert Kramer or the show’s director.’

‘Has Kershaw already ruled out suicide, then?’ asked Renfield.

‘No, but he thinks it unlikely that someone like Baine would have known about the drop from the bridge scaffolding. The street doesn’t lead anywhere and gets hardly any traffic.’

‘Were there were other prints at the site?’

‘Yeah, loads,’ said Banbury. ‘Workmen had been treading mud over it all day and it had been raining, so there was nothing salvageable. Suicides tend to go out in familiar surroundings. And if he’d chosen the bridge, why not just jump off? The tides are pretty lethal.’

‘He might not have known that,’ Renfield persisted.

‘Giles found chemical residue on his face and reckons he may have been sprayed with pepper spray—like the ones you can buy for a handbag,’ said Longbright. ‘He’s had water from the bridge dripping on him, so that’s not conclusive.’

‘Don’t you have one in your bag?’ asked Land.

‘No, Raymond, I have a house brick. More effective. Baine had a fresh bruise on the side of his head, like he’d been slapped or punched, or he might just have walked into the scaffolding, blinded. He’d been led or walked along the planks and stepped off the end. Then he choked to death on the rope.

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