Free Reckless Endangerment by Graham Ison Page B

‘If the crew room’s empty, and it should be, I could let you have a discreet look in her locker, Harry, if you think that would help?’ he suggested. ‘But for God’s sake don’t tell anyone that I let you have a gander without a warrant or I’ll have the union on my back like a ton of bricks. The next thing that’d happen would be a strike, and I could do without that sort of aggro.’
    ‘Thanks, Ted. A look in her locker might be useful.’
    Richie picked up his personal radio, led us down a flight of stairs, along several passageways and through a door marked ‘Private’ until we reached the crew room. Fortunately it was deserted. Taking out a bunch of keys, the security chief opened a locker labelled ‘Sharon Gregory’. ‘Pays to have a skeleton key,’ he said, with a laugh. ‘Although if the shop steward found out he’d go ape.’ It seemed that he was in constant fear of the trade union.
    There was little in the locker to excite our interest: some clothing, including a spare uniform, a couple of packets of tights and a pair of high-heeled shoes.
    ‘They wear high heels to greet the passengers,’ said Richie, offering a piece of useless information, ‘but they change into flats once they’re airborne.’
    ‘This might be useful, sir,’ said Dave, picking up a mobile phone. ‘I wonder why she didn’t take it with her?’ He picked up the phone and began to fiddle with it.
    ‘What are you up to now, Dave?’ I was always interested when Dave moved into his technical mode.
    ‘Copying her contact list, sir,’ said Dave, as he removed the SIM cards from his own phone and Sharon’s. Placing her card into his phone, he copied her contact list, and then returned Sharon’s card to her phone. ‘And she’ll never know we did it,’ he said, as he replaced his own SIM card and put Sharon’s phone back in her locker.
    ‘D’you think she might’ve had something to do with topping her husband, Harry?’ asked Richie, as we strolled back to his office. The suspicions of a career CID officer still remained.
    ‘I very much doubt it, Ted,’ I said, unwilling to disclose my concerns about the circumstances surrounding the murder of Clifford Gregory, even to an ex-copper. Loyalties tend to change with a change of career. ‘But I’ll keep you posted if anything interesting comes up. Oh, there’s one other thing. D’you know if Sharon Gregory had a particular friend, one who is in the same crew maybe and might know what she gets up to when she’s in Miami?’
    ‘Leave it with me, Harry, I’ll ask around. I’ll give you a bell if I find out anything.’ Richie glanced at his watch. ‘You got time for a snifter?’
    ‘Yes, why not? But Dave’s driving, so he’ll have an orange juice.’
    Richie laughed. ‘Rank hath its privileges,’ he said, as Dave and I followed him into one of the many bars to be found in the Heathrow Airport complex.
    Once back at ESB, I asked Dave to telephone the Shannon Hotel at Miami Beach and find out if Sharon was there.
    Ten minutes later, he returned. ‘She’s not there, guv, and they aren’t expecting the crew she’s usually with until Wednesday.’
    ‘That comes as no surprise,’ I said, leaving Dave to list the contacts he had found on Sharon Gregory’s mobile. I phoned Linda Mitchell in an attempt to clarify one or two points.
    ‘How many mobile telephones did you come across at the Gregorys’ house, Linda?’
    ‘Two, Mr Brock,’ said Linda promptly. ‘One was in the study and the other was on the worktop in the kitchen. I’m about to examine them, but it’s most likely that the one from the kitchen was Sharon’s, and the one in the study belonged to her husband. I’ll let you know.’
    ‘A couple of other things. I’d be grateful if you’d have all the pillows that were in the master bedroom examined. Doctor Mortlock tells me that Clifford Gregory was suffocated, and he suspects it might’ve been one of the pillows that was used. So, a