‘Then investigate that,’ says Jill. ‘I don’t want to see either of you anywhere near this Incident Room. DCI Hudson, they’ve found a temporary office for you in the Portakabin in the car park. Off you toddle.’
‘And we just stop our investigation of Kuldesh Sharma’s murder?’ says Chris.
‘Leave it to the professionals,’ says Jill. ‘You track down that poor horse.’
Sensing this might be a battle best left for another day, Donna ushers Chris out, and follows him down the main stairwell of the station.
‘What do we make of that?’ he says.
‘Surely no one’s that obnoxious in real life?’ says Donna.
‘Just what I was thinking,’ says Chris. ‘That’s someone who really, really wants to be left alone. But why?’
‘There’s something about the murder she doesn’t want us to know?’
Chris nods. ‘Feels like that’s something we should investigate, doesn’t it?’
‘First things first,’ says Donna. ‘I’ll head down to my locker and get Kuldesh’s mobile phone.’
Chris nods again. ‘We’ll just put a quick trace on his calls. And then we can get straight on that horse theft in Benenden.’
There are only two rows of seats filled at the funeral. Kuldesh had not been a practising Hindu, or indeed a practising anything, and the only instructions he had left were that he would like a simple cremation, presided over by the local vicar his late wife had once met, and very much liked, on a Speed Awareness course (‘John something, from Hove, I’m sure you can look him up’).
In the front row sit Joyce, Elizabeth, Ron and Ibrahim. In the row behind them are Chris, Donna, Bogdan and a man in a hat who has thus far only introduced himself as Big Dave. The vicar, surprised to be there at all, is trying his best.
‘Kuldesh was a shopkeeper, a man who loved antiques. He was from Brighton, so he must have loved the sea …’
Elizabeth decides she can probably skip this bit and turns to the row behind to address Chris.
‘Let’s share information,’ she whispers.
‘We’re at a funeral,’ Chris whispers back.
‘He lived in a bungalow in Ovingdean,’ the vicar continues. ‘Kuldesh was clearly not a man who enjoyed stairs –’
‘OK,’ says Chris, nodding to Elizabeth. ‘You go first.’
‘I think our information is better than your information,’ says Elizabeth. ‘So, with respect, you go first.’
‘Thank you for your respect,’ says Donna.
‘She is right, in this instance,’ says Ibrahim, turning to join the conversation. ‘We have a big piece of the puzzle that you don’t have.’
‘Is that right?’ says Chris. ‘I’ll take my chances. We’re progressing quite nicely.’
‘If you could all join me now in prayer,’ says the vicar. ‘If Kuldesh was a man of faith, he kept that faith quietly, but you never know. Our Father …’
As the vicar continues his prayer, Elizabeth and Chris continue their whispered conversation, heads now bowed.
‘CCTV come good?’ asks Elizabeth. ‘You know who visited Kuldesh on the day he died?’
‘Not yet,’ says Chris.
‘Interesting, because we do.’
‘No, you don’t,’ says Donna, eyes still closed and hands clasped together. ‘They’re bluffing, Chris.’
‘Amen,’ says everyone together as the prayer finishes.
‘And now,’ continues the vicar, ‘do please join me in a moment of silence as we remember our friend Kuldesh Sharma. Or just keep whispering away to each other. You knew him better than I did, though I did like his wife when we met.’
Chris gives it a couple of beats, then gets back to business.
‘Honestly,’ says Chris. ‘We’ve got this one. It’s only been five days. We’ve got a team on it, a good team, all with decent intelligence, and we’ve got forensics going over everything. Whatever’s happened here, we’ll solve it. Not by magic but by hard work.’
‘So you spoke to Louise at the café?’ asks Joyce, finally joining in. ‘That’s good.’
‘To … who?’ says Chris, momentarily off guard.
‘Louise,’ says Elizabeth. ‘The lady who runs the café down the road? The one where you sent us to get us out of the way? You spoke with her?’
‘Yes,’ says Donna. ‘I did speak with her. That’s what the police do.’
‘That’s the trouble though, isn’t it,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Not everyone trusts you, heaven knows why. I think you do a terrific job, few bad apples of course, but not everyone holds the same view. So perhaps she might have been more forthcoming to a couple of older women enjoying a cup of tea and a slice of cake?’
‘A macaroon, actually,’ says Joyce. ‘Details, Elizabeth.’
‘And now,’ says the vicar, ‘I believe a friend of Kuldesh would like to say a few words. Bogdan Jankowski.’
Joyce claps her delight as Bogdan walks to the front. No whispering from anyone now. Bogdan tests the microphone with his index finger. He is satisfied with the acoustics.
‘Kuldesh was a good man,’ says Bogdan. ‘And not everyone is a good man.’
‘Hear, hear,’ says Ron.
