The Last 10 Seconds

‘Tell me his name. It is a “he”, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it’s a “he”, and his name’s Anthony Gore.’

She frowned. ‘Not the Anthony Gore?’

‘Yes,’ he answered grimly. ‘The Anthony Gore. The Minister for Home Affairs.’

Forty-four

Light was breaking, and Tina could just hear birdsong above the distant rumble of traffic as she picked up the phone.

‘I’m sorry to bother you this early in the morning, Mrs Glover,’ she said when Beatrice Glover answered, ‘but it’s the police again. My name’s DI Boyd and you spoke to my colleague DC Grier last night.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ve been up for half an hour,’ said Mrs Glover brightly. ‘At my time of life you make the best use of your time because you never know when it’s going to run out. And yes, I did speak to your colleague. He wanted me to look at a photo of a young man I saw in our apartment block last year. I hope I was of some help.’

‘Yes you were. A great help. But I’m afraid I have another question for you. You saw a grey-haired man leaving your building on more than one occasion, didn’t you? According to your statement, he was in his fifties, grey hair, quite tall.’

‘That’s right. I met him on the stairs once with Roisín. She didn’t introduce him and I had the feeling he didn’t want to be seen that much either, because he didn’t really look at me. You don’t think he was anything to do with her death, do you? He didn’t seem the type.’

‘No,’ lied Tina, ‘but we need to trace him.’

‘I saw him again, too, leaving through the front door when I was on my way back in with the shopping. That was a couple of weeks afterwards, I think. Not that long before the murder. He held the door open for me, and he seemed to be in a hurry. I think he was her boyfriend, you know,’ she added in conspiratorial tones. ‘And I think he was married too, which was why he didn’t want to be seen.’

Tina smiled to herself. ‘I think you’re right, Mrs Glover. That’s very perceptive of you.’

Beatrice Glover chuckled infectiously. ‘I may be old but I’m not senile. Roisín was a lovely girl you know. Always smiling. She could have done so much better than a married man. Those kinds of affairs never end happily, do they?’

‘No, they don’t,’ said Tina, remembering the only one she’d had many years before when she was in her early twenties and new to the force. He was a businessman, sixteen years older and, as she’d found out three months in, married with two children. It had been a painful learning experience, and one she’d never repeated. ‘I understand you’ve got access to a computer and the internet, Mrs Glover. Could you do me a favour and look something up on it for me?’

‘Yes, of course. Just let me go and turn it on.’

Tina waited patiently while she got her computer booted up, listening to her say how worried she’d become as a result of the murder, and asking what the world had come to when you could be murdered in your bed.

‘Murder’s far rarer than people think, Mrs Glover, and lightning doesn’t usually strike twice, so I’m sure you have nothing to worry about,’ Tina explained, although she was only too aware that lightning had struck far too many times around her.

‘All right, Miss Boyd, I’m all booted up and ready. What do you need me to look up?’

‘The name “Anthony Gore”. Can you Google it, and add the words “Minister of Home Affairs”? It should come up with some image results. I want you to look at them.’

Beatrice Glover slowly repeated the words out loud, then Tina heard her click a key at the other end.

Five seconds passed.

‘Can you see a photograph of him yet?’ Tina asked, trying not to sound impatient.

‘My goodness. It’s him. That’s the man I saw with Roisín. I thought he looked familiar.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Glover, that’s all I need to know,’ said Tina, and after instructing her not to say anything to anyone about their conversation, she said her goodbyes before the old lady could ask any more questions.