Murder Club - Mark Pearson [43]
A crucifix.
‘Indeed, detective,’ said Doctor Bowman as he looked back at the fractured skull of the dead man. ‘Maybe not the workman’s spade at all.’
30.
PATRICIA HUNT RUBBED some cream onto her hand.
‘You should see a doctor, darling,’ said her husband, watching her, concerned.
‘I’ll be fine, I ran it under cold water straight away; don’t fuss, Geoffrey.’
‘When I heard you scream, I didn’t know what had happened.’
‘I know, dear. It was nothing.’
‘But how did you spill it on your hand? That’s not like you at all. I’m supposed to be the clumsy one.’
‘I’m tired. And I’m not as strong as I used to be. My hand shook holding the kettle, that’s all.’
She looked away, unable to meet his eyes.
Geoffrey would have responded, but he suddenly went into a paroxysm of coughing, his whole body shaking as he held a handkerchief to his mouth.
His wife looked across at him, her hand forgotten. ‘I told you, you shouldn’t have gone out there this morning.’
He took a moment or two to catch his breath, his breathing ragged and wet. ‘There was work to be done.’
‘Standing here in the kitchen in the dead of night. With no slippers on, in the freezing cold. No wonder you’ve got a cough.’
‘Fresh air never killed anyone, Patricia.’
His wife looked at him for a moment. ‘You know that’s not true!’
Jack Delaney walked through A&E reception towards the intensive-care units, talking on his mobile telephone and ignoring the hostile glances that he was getting from the hospital staff as he passed.
‘I’ll give you a call when I’m heading in. Thanks, Tony, appreciate the heads-up.’
He closed the phone and put it in his pocket.
‘The ball rolling?’ asked DC Cartwright.
‘Yeah, a bloody big ball made of stone, and heading straight for me.’
‘Indiana Delaney.’
‘Yeah, only I might not make it out of the tunnel this time, Sally.’
‘Who was on the phone?’ she asked, trying to make the enquiry as casual as possible.
‘Detective Inspector Tony Hamilton, Constable,’ said Delaney, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ‘Didn’t you and he …?’ Delaney wiggled his hand suggestively.
‘No, sir, we didn’t,’ said Sally Cartwright, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks despite herself.
‘Oh, I thought—’ continued Delaney, amused.
‘Well, we didn’t!’ Sally repeated, ending the discussion. ‘Seems he’s the go-to man for any investigations involving you, sir.’
‘Seems that way, but you’d be wrong.’
‘Oh?’
‘Diane arranged it. He’s part of the investigation team anyway. Much better him than that little prick Richard Stoker.’
‘True. I don’t like that man. And Tony Hamilton did save your life a few months back.’
Delaney smiled at her as he pushed the swing doors at the end of the corridor open. ‘Sure now, I had that covered.’
Sally gave him a little jab in the arm. ‘Of course you did, boss. And besides, it was your picture on the front of all those papers, not his.’
‘Jeez, don’t remind me.’
At the end of the summer Delaney had made headline news when he had rescued a young boy. The boy, Ashley Woods, had been kidnapped by a woman who had herself been kidnapped some fifteen years or so earlier. When she escaped she returned to Harrow to seek revenge. Whilst killing those she thought responsible, she also took the little boy, the grandson of one of the men in the group. As the killings mounted, Delaney had nearly been killed himself before rescuing the boy and making the front pages all over again.
‘Just saying, sir …’ said Sally Cartwright, amused at her boss’s discomfiture.
‘Well, don’t.’
‘Either way, it’s probably a good thing he is the one investigating you.’
‘It’s not an investigation – it is a preliminary inquiry to ascertain whether there is a case for formal investigation, at which time it will be turned over to the appropriate people.’
‘Which isn’t going to happen, is it?’
‘God knows, Sally. God only knows what that toerag Bonner did or didn’t do.’
‘Never trusted him myself. Too good-looking, with sleazy eyes.’
‘Right.’
They arrived