The Lost

‘I was just saying, no need to get humpty.’ Wilkes frowned into his glass. ‘So it was just one man?’

‘That’s all I saw.’

‘Doesn’t sound like an organised gang were involved, then. The papers made it sound like it was migrants who’d been killed by traffickers, but what you’ve said sounds more like a lone psycho to me.’ His frown deepened. ‘I still don’t get what Gav was doing there, though. Or why he phoned you. No offence, but I can’t recall him ever mentioning your name. If he was in a bind, then how come he called you instead of... instead of someone else?’

‘I’m still trying to work that out myself.’ Jonah didn’t want quizzing too closely about that, not with Fletcher’s revelation about Owen Stokes still so fresh. He nodded at the big man’s nearly empty glass. ‘Get you another?’

‘Won’t say no.’ By the look of him, he rarely did. ‘Let me get some more grub and I’ll come with you.’

Jonah waited while he loaded his plate, then they headed to the bar. Wilkes favoured one hip as he walked.

‘Been waiting months for a bloody op,’ he grumbled. When his lager arrived, he raised it at Jonah. ‘Here’s to Gav.’

Jonah tilted his own bottle — he was still on his first — to acknowledge the toast but he didn’t echo it. ‘When did you last see him?’

The ex-detective’s pouched eyes slid away. ‘Not recently, as such. You know how it is after you’ve left.’

Jonah did. He’d met up with his team for a drink shortly after he came out of hospital. Although it had been good to see them, he’d already felt like an outsider.

‘But you kept in contact?’

‘Yeah, ’course.’ Wilkes sounded defensive. ‘We’d meet up for a beer or a curry, that sort of thing. Though not so much after he moved out.’

‘Moved out?’

‘Didn’t you know?’ The small eyes were shrewd and triumph-ant. ‘Him and his missus were separated. He was renting a flat in Ealing.’

That was news to Jonah. Marie hadn’t said anything, but then she probably wouldn’t have wanted to dwell on it. Not when any chance of a reconciliation had died along with Gavin.

‘What happened?’

‘It’s not my place to say,’ Wilkes said, looking down at his beer.

‘No, of course.’

Jonah occupied himself with his own beer, letting the silence work for him.

‘Between you and me, things had been rocky between them for a while,’ Wilkes said, leaning in. ‘You know Gav, he was no saint. He liked to play hard, but that’s all it was. He’d never had to move out before.’

Jonah took a moment to make sure his face didn’t give anything away. ‘Was he seeing anyone else?’

‘Christ, no, not after...’ Wilkes seemed to catch himself. ‘I mean, it was never anything serious, he wasn’t that stupid. I suppose you can’t blame his wife for getting upset, but you’ve got to blow off steam in this job. Specially with the pressure he’d been under, what with the suspension and all.’

‘Suspension?’

Wilkes gave him an incredulous look, enjoying Jonah’s shock. ‘Jesus, you really are out of touch. He’d been suspended without pay, although no one’s going to want to admit that now. Wouldn’t look good in the press if it came out the DPS had been on his back for months, would it? Bastards.’

Suddenly, a lot of things became clearer for Jonah. The Directorate of Professional Standards investigated allegations of misconduct against the Met’s officers. If Gavin had been in their sights, that wasn’t good.

But it explained the muted official reaction to his death, as well as the empty room Jonah was standing in now. A low turnout at the church, with the media waiting outside, was one thing. That would have raised too many eyebrows, but a private reception afterwards was something else. Whatever Gavin was being investigated for, it was bad enough for his colleagues not to want tarnishing by association.

Except for Wilkes.

‘What was he supposed to have done?’ Jonah asked.

The ex-detective took another drink, scowling. ‘Some trumped-up bullshit. You know how it is, sometimes you’ve got to bend the rules to get things done. Doesn’t matter now, does it?’

It did if it was something to do with Gavin’s presence at the warehouse, Jonah thought. Because that could potentially tarnish him as well. Jesus, no wonder Fletcher was so suspicious.

‘Was he accused of being on the take?’

He could see from the hunted expression that flitted across Wilkes’s face that he’d hit home. The big man hid it behind bluster.

‘You want to talk about that, ask someone else. I’m not going to bad-mouth him when he can’t defend himself. And I don’t care what anyone says, Gav was a good man. He deserved better than this.’ Lager sloshed in his glass as he waved it at the almost-deserted room. ‘A half-arsed eulogy and pork pie in the back room of a pub. And the two-faced bastards can’t even be bothered to come!’

Wilkes’s face was flushed and angry. Jonah didn’t want to upset him more than he already was, but he had to know.