Impression (DI Gardener 4)

“He was here a minute ago.”

The door opened and the Irishman walked in with a tray of doughnuts. “Gregg’s, round the corner,” he said, raising a thumb.

“At this time of night?” asked Gardener.

“If you know the right people. Friend of mine bakes them. These were going in the bin.”

“They’re not fresh?” questioned Sharp.

“What the hell do you want at nine o’clock at night?”

The team dug in anyway. Within seconds the tray was empty, leaving Gardener without one. But he didn’t much care.

“Okay, I’m sure none of you want to stay any later than necessary, so let’s get started. We’ll go through today’s actions, mark them up on the board, and then we’ll see what we need to do tomorrow.”

Each man nodded, relishing the coffee and doughnuts – fresh or not.

Gardener beckoned Patrick Edwards. He gave him a pen and asked him to update the charts as they went along. He then addressed DCI Briggs. “I believe you have something to say on the bayonet, sir.”

Briggs nodded, and Gardener took a seat.

“The National Crime Agency expert identified it as a No. 7 Mk. I/L Knife Bayonet. It was basically part knife bayonet and part socket bayonet, because it could mount to the Lee Enfield and the Mk. V Sten submachine gun. The intention was to utilize the clip point blade and serve a dual role as a fighting knife.”

“So, we’re looking for a military nut?” asked Thornton.

Briggs didn’t answer, returning eagerly to his notes. Gardener knew he’d never been happy taking centre stage.

“The grip scales are made of a resin-impregnated cloth composite, called Paxolin, and have deep finger grooves to allow use as a fighting knife. Other examples with black grips would be those produced by BSA, the Royal Ordnance Factory at Poole, and the one at Newport.”

“Sounds to me like there were millions of these things,” said Bob Anderson. “What chance do we have of finding out where ours came from?”

“Not as many as you think, Bob. There were one hundred and seventy-six thousand produced in the World War Two years.”

“Well that narrows things down. Makes me feel a whole lot better.”

“Well if you’ll just hold your horses, sunshine, I’ll make you delirious in a second.”

“I’m a bit tired for that, if you don’t mind, sir.”

Even Briggs had to laugh. Late and tired, a bit of grave humour often helped.

“The design was perfected by Wilkinson Sword. They made 1,000 bayonets in 1944. Mass production was carried out by four manufacturers from 1945 to 1948: Birmingham Small Arms made 25,000; The Royal Ordnance Factory at Poole, 30,000; and The Royal Ordnance Factory, Newport, 100,000.”

“That’ll be ours, then.”

“No, ours was made by Elkington & Co. of Birmingham. Our expert reckoned most had their own markings. BSA, for example, used ‘M-74B’. Ours had the marking ‘M-78’. Elkington made 20,000 and are one of the most important names in English silver.”

“Any prints?” asked Gardener.

Briggs shook his head. “Not on the bayonet, no. We have identified the footprints in the kitchen, which belong to Nicola Stapleton and Barry Morrison.”

Gardener realized that was all the man had to say on the bayonet. But it was something. He stood up and let Briggs have a seat.

“Bayonet actions for tomorrow, then. Someone get on to Elkington in Birmingham, see if they keep records that far back. Can they identify this bayonet, and see if there’s a trail from when it was sold? I doubt it very much.”

“There’s a good chance it was bought second-hand somewhere.”

“I was coming to that, junk shops, second-hand shops, antique dealers. Maybe try the local markets. I know some of the antique dealers hang out there. One or two have stalls.”