Chapter 79

Chapter 79

What had he done to deserve this? It was unfair and it was unjust, revealing a vindictiveness in Grace's character that had been well concealed until now.

Cursing his luck, DC Jennings trudged along the run-down third-floor walkway, his spirits descending further with each step. Looked at objectively, his actions had been justified, successful and ultimately beneficial to the unit. Everyone knew that Holmes thought they were dragging their feet on the Freemantle investigation and that Grace was getting grief from the station chief as a result. By seizing the initiative himself, by getting off his arse and actually doing something, screwing the necessary information out of Brent Mason, he'd resolved that problem in an instant. The case was off their books now, leaving his immediate boss to pursue her pet projects to her heart's content. But was Grace grateful? Was she prepared to concede that he was actually an asset to the team? A leadership candidate in the making? Jennings knew the answer to those questions, her low opinion of him made explicit by his dispatch to this crumbling housing estate, sent on a wild goose chase that would yield little glory.

His day had started well, but had descended to this lonely pilgrimage to the Southford Estate, once a shining example of modern town planning, now a ramshackle haven for dropouts and illegal immigrants. If Graham Armstrong was hiding out here, it was a sorry place to end up, though perhaps it was all he deserved. Still, it was annoying to be making this journey alone, DC Reid having at least been handed an active role in proceedings. Reid was no bigger a fan of Grace or Brooks than he was, though of course he kept those opinions to himself, rolling over as soon as he was directly challenged. Such were the perils of leadership, Jennings mused bitterly, the price of sticking your head above the parapet.

Nearing the end of the walkway, Jennings paused, tugging the photocopied sheet from his jacket and checking the address. When Graham Armstrong had been released from prison, he'd been given a flat here, his family and friends having either turned their backs on him or moved away. This was the reward for his infamy – Flat 27, Block C, on the Southford Estate. Staring at the graffiti-smeared door, Jennings pondered the madness of some people. Armstrong had been set for life, a well-known figure in the fire-and-rescue community, with an exemplary work record and a generous pension in the offing. And he'd thrown it all away, tossed thirty years of diligent work down the drain, all because of his pathetic predilection for Thai girls. Some people were beyond saving, they really were.

Exhaling theatrically, Jennings rapped sharply on the door. Sliding out his handcuffs, he braced himself for action. It would be just his luck if Armstrong tried to make a break for it, or decided to put up a fight, so there was no point in being taken off guard. But his knocking elicited no response, so stepping forward, he tried again, this time pressing his ear to the door. At first, he heard nothing, the flat appeared lifeless and still, but then he heard a floorboard squeak inside, not five feet from where he was standing. Straightening up, he pressed his face to the door, peering down the spyhole, only to see an eye staring straight back at him. Instantly, the eye disappeared and he heard footsteps hurrying away.

Jennings' fist slammed into the door once more, paint flying off as he did so.

‘Hampshire Police, open up!'

Jennings listened for a second, then slammed the door again.

‘Armstrong, I'm giving you ten seconds to open the door or I'll kick it down.'

He took a step back, preparing to launch himself at the door.

‘Ten, nine, eight …'

Setting himself in an upright runner's stance, he prepared to charge, confident the door would buckle on first impact.

‘… seven, six, five, four … oh what's the point?'

Springing forward, Jennings hurled himself at the door. But as he did so, the door swung open, his target swiftly receding. Off balance and in mid-air, Jennings tripped and fell, crashing to the floor, before sliding into the hallway. He saw a pair of feet spring back to avoid him and he was quickly back up again, preparing to confront Graham Armstrong.

Only to find a confused Asian pensioner staring back at him, flanked by a multitude of startled faces behind her.