Murder Club - Mark Pearson [71]
She scanned it briefly, raising an eyebrow. If Laura Chilvers had been seeking oblivion that night, she had certainly gone about it the right way. Traces of enough drugs in her system to sedate an elephant. Unless someone had planted them in her drinks, of course.
She moved the cursor and clicked on the print icon.
51.
DI TONY HAMILTON looked over at the tall woman who was driving. It was an estimated two-and-a-bit-hour drive to Lavenham in Suffolk from White City, but DI Emma Halliday had her foot down hard on the accelerator. They had been going for an hour or so and were at Bishop’s Stortford, about to leave the M11 and head towards Sudbury. The roads had been pretty clear out of central London, and even the North Circular had been remarkably hold-up-free. The heavier snowfalls expected in the capital had probably put most people off. Tony Hamilton didn’t blame them. Traffic in London was like one of the seven circles of Hell at the best of times; add a snow blizzard to the mix, and he’d count himself out soon enough. The only trouble was he couldn’t. The call comes and London’s finest have to answer, even if it does mean driving through several counties to get there. There were flurries of snow and the clouds overhead seemed to be thickening, but Emma had driven fast and controlled; he was impressed.
The DI noticed that he was looking at her, with a small smile on his face.
‘Spit it out, Detective. You got something to say?’
‘Just having a little sexist thought.’
‘You better not have been looking at my legs.’
DI Hamilton on reflex looked down at her very long trousered legs and then back up at her. ‘Actually I was just admiring your driving skills and was admonishing myself for being surprised.’
‘I surprise a lot of people with a lot of things.’
‘I’m sure you do, Catwalk.’
‘Yeah, Detective Inspector Halliday will do just fine thank you!’
‘Hamilton and Halliday. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?’
‘No.’
‘I could see it on the TV. After Eastenders … stay tuned for Hamilton and Halliday. They kick butt, but boy do they look good!’
Emma looked over at him, smiling despite herself. ‘Got tickets on yourself, haven’t you?’
‘Is that what you think?’
‘What I think is that you should let me concentrate on the driving.’
‘Just trying to pass the time with some witty conversation.’
‘Well you’re failing. Stick the radio on.’
DI Hamilton leaned forward and pushed the button on the dashboard. A smooth announcer’s voice was reading the news.
‘… Superintendent Napier of White City Police Station and the Metropolitan Police has today confirmed that the body recovered from under the carriages of an east-bound Bakerloo Line train was indeed that of Michael Robinson. Mister Robinson had earlier that morning walked free from the Old Bailey after several charges of rape and aggravated sexual assault and grievous bodily harm were dropped against him. The chief witness for the prosecution, who was the alleged victim of the vicious assault, herself sensationally claimed that she was shown a photograph of Michael Robinson before the formal identification parade.’
Tony moved his hand to change the channel, but Emma flicked it away.
‘The person who showed her the photo,’ the announcer continued, ‘was Detective Inspector Jack Delaney, she claimed. This claim is under internal investigation but it has also emerged that Michael Robinson had served a civil lawsuit on Inspector Delaney on the very morning he was released. DI Delaney has not been available for comment but Superintendent George Napier has confirmed that at this moment they are treating Michael Robinson’s death as suspicious. In other news Cheryl Cole has reportedly …’
Emma switched off the announcer in mid-speech. ‘That sounds to me like wolves gathering, don’t you think, Tony? Smelling blood.’
‘Yeah I’d say so. Jumping Jack Flash better be watching his back.’
‘To think a few months ago he was the poster-boy for the Met.’
‘Tall poppy syndrome. The real English vice.’
‘And Jack Delaney is Irish.’
‘Black-as-bog Irish.’
‘Just as well he’s got us