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had been at a charity event held by Bertram Cromwell over a year
earlier. Simmonds had struck him as being a bit of a dick. He’d worn a cheap
ill-fitting suit and he had a horrendous ponytail that really didn’t suit his
narrow face.
    Simmonds welcomed him with a
warm handshake and a cursory smile, so it wasn’t as if the guy was totally
devoid of qualities. Unfortunately though, h e still
had the ponytail and the poor taste in suits. His face wasn’t quite as narrow
as before. In fact he appeared to be in the process of growing a second chin.
    As the two of them walked along a
narrow corridor on the way to the security office, Simmonds surprised the new
Police Captain with an observation Harker wouldn’t have made himself.
    ‘You and I have a lot in common,’
he said.
    ‘How so?’
    ‘Well, we obviously both like to
dress well,’ Simmonds smiled and hesitated a moment waiting for Harker to make
an agreeing sound of some kind. He didn’t. Harker’s black three-piece suit was
impeccable and fitted snugly, unlike Simmonds’s ill-fitting grey number. ‘And
then of course there’s the obvious,’ Simmonds continued.
    ‘What’s that then?’
    They arrived at a door in the left
wall of the corridor and Simmonds turned the handle of it, pushing it open
before continuing. ‘Both of us have just landed ourselves a promotion, courtesy
of the Bourbon Kid’s killing spree yesterday.’
    Harker threw a look of disapproval
at Simmonds. The comment was in rather poor taste under the circumstances.
Simmonds recognised the look.
    ‘Obviously it’s not how I would
have wanted to get my new job. I would much rather Bertram Cromwell was still
alive, of course, as I’m sure you wouldn’t have wished death on the previous
Police Captain.’
    Simmonds stepped inside the
security office and held the door open for Harker to follow him through.
    ‘The last Captain was a Grade A
prick and I’m glad he’s dead,’ said Harker, stepping into the room.
    ‘Oh.’
    ‘Can you just show me the CCTV
tapes please? Then I’ll be on my way. I’ve got a hell of a busy day ahead.’
    ‘Of course.’  
    Inside the security office,
sitting in a rather knackered looking blue chair was a guard in a grey uniform.
He was watching a bank of television monitors on the wall in front of him. He
was a big, broad shouldered fellow with blond wavy hair and striking blue eyes.
Simmonds strolled over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
    ‘James, did you manage to make a
copy of the murder footage for the police?’
    The security guard sat upright.
‘Sure did, sir.’ He picked up a CD in a plastic case that was on the desk in
front of him. ‘It’s all on there.’
    Simmonds took the CD and held it
out for Harker.
    ‘Thanks,’ said Harker, snatching
the CD away from him. He peered over the security guard’s shoulder at the bank
of monitors he was watching. They showed live footage of the goings on all
around the museum.
    ‘Say, James,’ Harker said. ‘Could
you get the footage of the murder up on screen for me now? Be useful if I could
take a quick look at it before I leave, just in case I spot anything I’d like
to ask you guys about. I wouldn’t wanna be two miles away watching it and
wishing I could ask you what I’m looking at.’
    ‘Sure thing sir,’ said James. He
pressed a few keys on a keyboard on the desk in front of him and then pointed
up at a monitor on the right. ‘Should be coming up on this screen here.’
    Harker leaned over James’s
shoulder to get a closer look at the footage on the black and white monitor.
The image wasn’t especially clear. He was able to make out the figure of
Bertram Cromwell sitting in a comfy chair in the museum’s staff room. The
professor was watching the news on a television. After about ten seconds,
Harker saw a tall figure in a hooded robe enter the room. Cromwell stood up
from his chair and a brief exchange of dialogue followed, none of which was
available due to the lack of