down hard.’
‘The team know how things stand. I’ll be dealing with the culprit this afternoon.’
‘Who is it?’
‘I’ve got a pretty clear idea but until I’ve spoken to the officer directly …’ She’d do this by the book.
‘Demotion? Suspension?’
‘I’ll make that decision when I have all the facts.’ And it’d be a damn shame. Butchers was a reliable copper. Had been up till now. Then what? Meltdown. Such a waste.
‘If they think you’re a soft touch …’
Janine recalled the reactions in the incident room. ‘Hardly.’
‘Not the most auspicious return to duty.’ Hackett observed. ‘Maybe I should have let Mayne lead. Give you time to … readjust.’
Janine was determined not to rise to the bait; nothing he liked more than a sniping match; when things got tough he invariably took to undermining those junior to him. The old school approach.
‘If we’re finished here, sir, I’ve got a lot to do,’ she said brightly. He nodded reluctantly and she escaped.
*****
One of the clients had a paper. POLICE IDENTIFY ROSA was splashed across the front, Murder Victim Polish . Marta’s heart thumped when she saw it and she stifled the urge to exclaim. She longed to read more, hoping that the man would leave it in the lounge when he went in with Zofia. Rosa used to pore over the free newspaper that got delivered. She’d pick out words that she didn’t know and look them up in her little dictionary. Lots weren’t in it and she’d have to figure them out from the context.
But the man tucked it into his coat and Marta didn’t get a chance. She would have to try and catch the news on the television. The men liked to have it on while they waited.
Now the police knew it was Rosa would they come here? She would talk to the others, they would have to be very careful, more so than usual.
Marta thought about the baby. Rosa had chattered about names late one night when she got in. ‘It’s due in August,’ she had said. ‘If it’s a girl I will call her after you.’
Marta had wrinkled her nose, waved away the idea. ‘I never liked my name.’ She had leaned forward, sliding a cigarette from the packet. Begun to speak carefully, ‘And Rosa, you know …’
Rosa had flung her arm up in protest, no longer prepared to listen to reason. ‘Don’t! This is my baby, it’s my life so just … spierdalaj ,’ she swore, ‘fuck off and let me be.’
Now Marta went upstairs and sat on Rosa’s bed and gazed out at the roofs through the grey net curtains. Rosa wasn’t coming back. Rosa was gone. With her posture like a ballet dancer, that straight back and long neck, her luxurious dark hair.
Marta exhaled sharply. She got down on her knees and felt under the bed where she knew Rosa kept her bag. There were clothes and a couple of family photographs: people in their Sunday best. One was a church occasion, one of the brothers getting confirmed, Rosa had said. Marta peered at the Milicz clan. The father dead now. Here he looked like any family man. Rosa and her brothers wore bright smiles for the camera, their mother looked brittle, careworn. Also in the bag, there was a cloth wallet and inside it was the money that Rosa had been saving. Marta counted it. Just over £400. Most of her tips had been sent back home. Marta put the cash in her own bag; no point in letting anyone else get their hands on it. It brought her £400 closer to a better life.
The doorbell rang and she smoothed her hair and adjusted her skirt as she went back downstairs to work.
Chapter Eleven
Every case generated a phenomenal amount of paperwork. As officer in charge, Janine not only had to keep tabs on all the different elements of the investigation and see their reports but also keep a meticulous log of her own and ensure that there were no omissions which could later jeopardise the chance of a result. She was multi-tasking, sifting through her in-tray and trying for some sort of prioritisation and also
‘The team know how things stand. I’ll be dealing with the culprit this afternoon.’
‘Who is it?’
‘I’ve got a pretty clear idea but until I’ve spoken to the officer directly …’ She’d do this by the book.
‘Demotion? Suspension?’
‘I’ll make that decision when I have all the facts.’ And it’d be a damn shame. Butchers was a reliable copper. Had been up till now. Then what? Meltdown. Such a waste.
‘If they think you’re a soft touch …’
Janine recalled the reactions in the incident room. ‘Hardly.’
‘Not the most auspicious return to duty.’ Hackett observed. ‘Maybe I should have let Mayne lead. Give you time to … readjust.’
Janine was determined not to rise to the bait; nothing he liked more than a sniping match; when things got tough he invariably took to undermining those junior to him. The old school approach.
‘If we’re finished here, sir, I’ve got a lot to do,’ she said brightly. He nodded reluctantly and she escaped.
*****
One of the clients had a paper. POLICE IDENTIFY ROSA was splashed across the front, Murder Victim Polish . Marta’s heart thumped when she saw it and she stifled the urge to exclaim. She longed to read more, hoping that the man would leave it in the lounge when he went in with Zofia. Rosa used to pore over the free newspaper that got delivered. She’d pick out words that she didn’t know and look them up in her little dictionary. Lots weren’t in it and she’d have to figure them out from the context.
But the man tucked it into his coat and Marta didn’t get a chance. She would have to try and catch the news on the television. The men liked to have it on while they waited.
Now the police knew it was Rosa would they come here? She would talk to the others, they would have to be very careful, more so than usual.
Marta thought about the baby. Rosa had chattered about names late one night when she got in. ‘It’s due in August,’ she had said. ‘If it’s a girl I will call her after you.’
Marta had wrinkled her nose, waved away the idea. ‘I never liked my name.’ She had leaned forward, sliding a cigarette from the packet. Begun to speak carefully, ‘And Rosa, you know …’
Rosa had flung her arm up in protest, no longer prepared to listen to reason. ‘Don’t! This is my baby, it’s my life so just … spierdalaj ,’ she swore, ‘fuck off and let me be.’
Now Marta went upstairs and sat on Rosa’s bed and gazed out at the roofs through the grey net curtains. Rosa wasn’t coming back. Rosa was gone. With her posture like a ballet dancer, that straight back and long neck, her luxurious dark hair.
Marta exhaled sharply. She got down on her knees and felt under the bed where she knew Rosa kept her bag. There were clothes and a couple of family photographs: people in their Sunday best. One was a church occasion, one of the brothers getting confirmed, Rosa had said. Marta peered at the Milicz clan. The father dead now. Here he looked like any family man. Rosa and her brothers wore bright smiles for the camera, their mother looked brittle, careworn. Also in the bag, there was a cloth wallet and inside it was the money that Rosa had been saving. Marta counted it. Just over £400. Most of her tips had been sent back home. Marta put the cash in her own bag; no point in letting anyone else get their hands on it. It brought her £400 closer to a better life.
The doorbell rang and she smoothed her hair and adjusted her skirt as she went back downstairs to work.
Chapter Eleven
Every case generated a phenomenal amount of paperwork. As officer in charge, Janine not only had to keep tabs on all the different elements of the investigation and see their reports but also keep a meticulous log of her own and ensure that there were no omissions which could later jeopardise the chance of a result. She was multi-tasking, sifting through her in-tray and trying for some sort of prioritisation and also
Similar Books
