Clean Cut by Lynda La Plante Page A

for further details but, apart from that, the team would be disbanded. Anna could either be assigned to another case or remain working with Sheldon, depending on what he was involved in. She had grown to quite like Harry Blunt; he really did suit his name. He was standing by a filing cabinet, when Brandon sailed in with a waft of his cologne.
    Harry turned to him. ‘Do you mind me saying something personal?’
    ‘Depends on what it is.’
    ‘It’s that bloody cologne you splash over yourself. It really makes me feel nauseous, especially at this time in the morning.’
    ‘It’s expensive,’ Brandon said defensively.
    ‘Well, I’m sorry, but maybe you should not use so much.’
    ‘You ever tried using something on yourself? Your own personal hygiene has a lot to answer for. BO preferable to you, is it?’
    The two men glared at each other, then Brandon turned to Anna. ‘What do you think?’
    She shrugged.
    ‘Go on, you can tell me–what do you think? Most women like it; in fact, it was my girlfriend who gave it to me.’
    ‘Maybe you are used to it. As it’s obviously a very expensive cologne, perhaps you need only a little dab or so.’
    ‘You see?’ Brandon turned to Harry. ‘She likes it.’
    Harry gave a grunt and walked off, as Brandon went over to the other women in the incident room. Annagave a covert look: one after the other was asked to smell his cheeks. It was really quite funny; Brandon was obviously upset.
    Sheldon emerged from his office. ‘Anna?’ He gestured to her. ‘We’ve got Murphy’s solicitor coming in. He wants to discuss some of the defence queries–the photograph, et cetera. So when he gets here, take him into interview room one.’
    ‘Money for old rope,’ Blunt said, sitting at his desk.
    Anna looked over to him.
    ‘Makes me sick! His barrister will earn more from this trial on fucking Legal Aid than I’ll probably earn in a year. We shouldn’t have to go to the expense of a trial: we know he did it–he’s admitted he did it! Just get him before a judge and bang him up. Better still, give the swine a lethal injection. That’s what I’d vote for, but none of these bloody politicians we’ve got will even contemplate capital punishment, because they’re scared of losing their jobs! Do you know, we’ve got just one probation officer for every thirty-seven convicts–that’s on record–and I’m not talkin’ about petty criminals. Thirty-seven criminals, right? That’s rapists and murderers they are supposed to stop re-offending. It’s a farce! They can only spend about three-quarters of an hour with each bastard in an average working week!’
    Harry would have continued if the by now very irritated Brandon hadn’t interrupted to say that Murphy’s solicitor had arrived and was waiting in reception.
    Anna asked for him to be taken into interview room one, as Sheldon had suggested.
    Brandon turned on her. ‘Go get him yourself, Travis.’
    ‘Yeah,’ Blunt put in. ‘Better take him or Brandon’scologne might gas him before he makes it down the corridor.’
    The other man hurled a book at Blunt, who laughed.
    Anna crossed to the door, and then turned to ask Brandon what the solicitor’s name was. Brandon, ducking a flying missile from Harry Blunt, said for Anna to watch out: Luke Griffith was a real operator.
    Anna left the two men behaving like children, chucking rolled-up papers at each other.
     
    Luke Griffith greeted Anna with a warm handshake. They went from the station reception into a rather small and airless interview room. Griffith drew out a chair for Anna and then sat opposite her. He was wearing an immaculate pin-striped suit and a blue shirt with a white collar and a dark tie. The cuffs of the shirt were also white, and he had tapering, well-manicured hands. He was very clean cut, with a chiselled face and dark eyes; even his hair seemed to be coiffured to perfection.
    ‘This shouldn’t take long.’ His voice was soft and upper class.
    ‘Do