"Round South London, mostly. A bit in the City. Why? What're you looking for?"
A van, Barbara thought. Deliveries by van. She noted that Kilfoyle had started to flush, but she didn't want to put that down as any more significant than Greenham's damp upper lip or his too soft hands. This bloke was ruddy skinned anyway, in the way of many Englishmen, and he had the doughy face, narrow nose, and knobby chin that would mark him out as British no matter where he went.
Barbara realised then how badly she wanted to read one of these blokes as a serial killer behind their ordinary exteriors. But the truth was, she'd so far wanted to read just about everyone she'd come across exactly the same and, no doubt when he finally showed his mug, Griff Strong was going to look bloody good to her as a serial killer, as well. She needed to keep things slow and easy at this point, she thought. Piece details together, she told herself, don't cram them into position simply because you want them to be there.
"So how do they keep body and soul together?" Barbara asked. "Not to mention roofs over their heads?"
"Who?"
"You said wages were bad here...?"
"Oh. That. Mostly they've got second jobs."
"Such as?"
He considered. "Don't know them all. But Jack's got a weekend job in a pub, and Griff and his wife have a silk-screen business. Fact is, I think only Ulrike's making enough not to have something else going on at the weekends or at night. It's the only way anyone can actually do this and still eat." He looked past Barbara to the doorway and added, "Hey, mate. I was just about to set the hounds on you."
Barbara turned and saw the same boy who'd been playing cards with Kilfoyle earlier in reception. He was slouching in the doorway, baggy blue jeans crotched at the knees and boxer shorts bulging at the waist. He shuffled into the kit room, where Kilfoyle set him up sorting through a tangle of climbing ropes. He began pulling them out of a plastic barrel and coiling them neatly round his arm.
"Do you happen to know Sean Lavery?" Barbara asked Kilfoyle.
He thought about this. "Been through assessment?"
"He's on a computer course with Neil Greenham."
"Then I probably know him. By sight if not by name. Back here"-He used his chin to indicate the kit room-"I only see the kids close up when there's an activity scheduled and they come in for supplies. Otherwise, they're just faces to me. I don't always put a name to them or keep a name on them once they've moved beyond the assessment level."
"Because only assessment-level kids use this stuff?" Barbara asked him, referring to the supplies in the kit room.
"Generally speaking, yes," he said.
"Neil Greenham tells me there's a divide between the assessment people and everyone else round here, with Ulrike on the assessment side. He indicated that's a trouble spot."
"That's just Neil," Kilfoyle said. He shot a look towards his helper and lowered his voice. "He hates being out of the loop. He takes offence easy. He's keen to have more responsibility and-"
"Why?"
"What?"
"Why's he keen to have more responsibility?"
Kilfoyle moved from the Wellingtons to the remaining life jackets that had not been chosen for wear by the team going out on the Thames. "Most people want that in their jobs, don't they? It's a power thing."
"Neil likes power?"
"I don't know him well, but I get the feeling he'd like to have more say about how things are run round here."
"And what about you? You've got to have bigger plans for yourself than volunteering in this kit room."
"You mean here at Colossus?" He thought about this, then gave a shrug. "Okay, I'll play. I wouldn't mind being hired to do outreach when they open the Colossus branch north of the river. But Griff Strong's angling for that. And if Griff wants it, it's going to be his."
"Why?"
Kilfoyle hesitated, weighing a life jacket between one hand and another as if he were also weighing his words. He finally replied, "Let's just say Neil was right about one thing: Everyone knows everyone else at Colossus. But Ulrike's going to make the decision on the outreach job, and she knows some people better than others."
FROM THE BENTLEY, Lynley phoned the police station in South Hampstead and brought them into the picture: the body found that morning south of the river, which was possibly one of a series of killings...if the station would allow him