As the Crow Flies

“Yes, you’re right.”

“And the East End of that city would be my bet.”

“Deptford,” said the chief.

“I knew it the moment you opened your mouth,” said Charlie, now sinking back into a leather chair. “I come from Whitechapel myself. So where was he born?”

“Bishop’s Way,” said the chief. “Just off—”

“Just a stone’s throw away from my part of the world,” said Charlie, in a thick cockney accent.

Roberts had not yet uttered a word, let alone given a professional opinion.

“Tottenham supporter, I suppose,” said Charlie.

“The Gunners,” said Cooper firmly.

“What a load of rubbish,” said Charlie. “Arsenal are the only team I know who read the names of the crowd to the players.”

The chief laughed. “I agree,” he said. “I’ve almost given up hope for them this season. So who do you support?”

“I’m a West Ham man myself.”

“And you were hoping I’d cooperate with you?”

Charlie laughed. “Well, we did let you beat us in the Cup.”

“In 1923,” said Cooper, laughing.

“We’ve got long memories down at Upton Park.”

“Well, I never expected you to have an accent like that, Sir Charles.”

“Call me Charlie, all my friends do. And another thing, Mike, do you want him out of the way?” Charlie cocked a thumb at Trevor Roberts, who still hadn’t been offered a seat.

“Might help,” said the chief.

“Wait outside for me, Roberts,” said Charlie, not even bothering to glance in the direction of his lawyer.

“Yes, Sir Charles.” Roberts turned and started walking towards the door.

Once they were alone Charlie leaned across the desk and said, “Soddin’ lawyers, they’re all the same. Overpaid toffee-nosed brussels sprouts, charge the earth and then expect you to do all the work.”

Cooper laughed. “Especially when you’re a grasshopper” he confided.

Charlie laughed. “Haven’t heard a copper described that way since I left Whitechapel.” The older man leaned forward. “This is between you and me, Mike. Two East End boys together. Can you tell me anything about Guy Francis Trentham that he doesn’t know?” Charlie pointed his thumb towards the door.

“I’m afraid there isn’t a lot Roberts hasn’t already dug up, to be fair to him, Sir Charles.”

“Charli

e.”

“Charlie. Look, you already know that Trentham murdered his wife and you must be aware by now that he was later hanged for the crime.”

“Yes, but what I need to know, Mike, is, were there any children?” Charlie held his breath as the policeman seemed to hesitate.

Cooper looked down at a charge sheet that lay on the desk in front of him. “It says here, wife deceased, one daughter.”