Private London (Private 4)

I had ordered the full monty – eggs, bacon, sausages, hash browns, mushrooms, black pudding – but when it arrived I pushed it aside. The memory of Chloe lying in bed with a tube in her mouth kind of spoiled my appetite.

Sam Riddel was carving his yolk-free scrambled eggs on wheat toast with surgical precision. He laid his fork carefully aside and took a sip of his chilled organic tomato juice. His breakfast went against all the principles of the café, but we had been coming here long enough for the owner to compromise for Sam. Besides, most people didn’t argue with my colleague. Apart from his boyfriend and me, that w

as.

Suzy came in, carrying an A4 manila envelope.

‘What have you got?’ I asked.

‘Not sure yet, but you’ll want to see this.’ She opened the envelope and put a photo in front of me. ‘This is the guy serving Chloe and the others last night in the union bar. I’ve heard back from the hospital …’

‘And?’

‘And Chloe’s blood work was showing traces of an intermediate-acting three-hydroxy benzodiazepine.’

‘Which means?’

‘Temazepam,’ said Sam and took another delicate sip of his tomato juice.

‘Someone slipped her a Mickey. Lucy and I went through all the footage, there were a couple of possibilities,’ Suzy said, tapping the photo. ‘This guy had ample opportunity and he’s out of sight of the CCTV easily for long enough to spike her vodka. He leaves the bar shortly after Chloe. He doesn’t show up in the quad but there are other exits not covered by any camera.’

‘And the other possibility?’

‘A group of men at the bar. Rugby team – one of them shows a very keen interest in her.’

Suzy flipped a couple of photos down. The young men from the security footage. Early twenties, big, boisterous by the look of it, wearing the university rugby colours. And a further one. A close-up shot of one of the men. A degree more serious than the others, his eyes unsmiling as he looked at Chloe leaving. An intense, predatory look.

‘Good job. We got names on these people yet?’

‘The barman’s called Ryan Williams. He’s being interviewed down at Paddington Green even as we speak.’

‘He’s been arrested?’

‘No. Helping with enquiries.’

‘Why take him down there, then?’

‘Don’t know, boss. But you probably know someone who does.’ Suzy smiled pointedly. She was right. I did.

I tapped the pictures of the rugby players. ‘And the merry gentlemen here?’

‘We’re on it, Dan.’

‘Good.’

‘But there’s more,’ she added.

‘Go on,’ prompted Sam.

Suzy picked up the envelope again. ‘I went back to the footage from the quad, wound back a couple of hours. The university had a visitor you both might recognise, and I’m guessing he wasn’t there because he had a tutorial on Spenser’s Faerie Queen.’

She slipped the final photo out and flipped it down on the table.

She was probably right about the tutorial. The man in the dark suit and matching sunglasses was about Sam Riddel’s height but a good few stone heavier, and certainly no vegetarian. His name was Brendan ‘Snake’ Ferres and he was one of the most unpleasant men to walk the planet.

‘Not good,’ I said simply.

‘Not good at all,’ agreed Suzy.