him get off?’
‘He won’t be getting off.’
‘There’s plenty as do. And what will he get anyway? Some nominal sentence and serve half of it?’ Roy scraped the fat from his hot plate angrily.
‘We do what we can.’
‘I know.’
‘And he did more than just rape the woman, Roy.’
‘I’d have been in your shoes, Jack, I’d have made sure he didn’t even make it to court.’
‘Not the way I operate.’
Roy twitched the corner of his mouth. ‘That’s not what they say in the papers.’
‘Not true, Roy.’
‘Might influence the jury, though.’
Delaney took another bite of his sandwich. Drops of the red sauce squirting from it stained the snow beside his feet. He looked down at the bright red splatters glistening against the brilliance of the snow in the early-morning sunlight, and then back up at the roadside chef.
‘Like I said, he’ll get what’s coming to him.’
He scuffed his foot over the crimson stain, crushing it under the snow.
Delaney walked along the platform towards the steps leading up to the ancient courthouse. He was aware of the barrage of questions being shouted at him, of the lights flashing as photographs were taken, of the fact that film cameras were being pointed at him. But he ignored it all. He walked through them, not even bothering to say: No comment .
‘Knock ’em dead, Delaney.’
Delaney turned, recognising the familiar voice. Melanie Jones, the Sky News reporter, was standing close by, her cameraman training a state-of-the-art HD video camera on him. Time was when Delaney would have ignored her too. But things had changed. Maybe Delaney was getting less cynical, maybe Melanie Jones was. Either way, when Delaney looked across at the woman, she seemed to be genuinely encouraging. He gave the smallest, barely noticeable nod to her and walked into the court building.
His boss, Superintendent George Napier, was standing in full dress uniform inside, waiting for him.
He strode across and pulled Delaney to one side. ‘Where the bloody hell have you been?’
‘Something came up, sir.’
‘What?’
‘Breakfast, sir. Needed to get something to eat.’
‘You better be bloody joking, Delaney.’
‘The car was playing up. The cold, sir. Took longer to sort out than I thought.’
‘And in the meantime you didn’t think to call or return any of Diane’s calls?’
‘The phone was inside on charge, boss. Didn’t see the calls missed until I was halfway here.’
Napier looked at Delaney closely. He was pretty certain the man was lying to him, treating him as he did everything else – like it was some kind of joke. Only Napier wasn’t laughing. The man had been skating on thin ice so long, it was a miracle to him that Delaney was still in the force. If Diane hadn’t protected him like a jealous tiger protects her cubs, he’d have been gone long ago. True, he had cleaned his act up in recent months – Dr Kate Walker was clearly having an influence on the man. But he didn’t trust him. Not as far as he could kick him.
‘Just make sure you stick to the script, Delaney.’
‘Of course, sir,’ said Delaney and smiled, walking onwards into the court.
The look in his eyes told a very different story, however.
24.
PATRICIA HUNT TOOK the large aluminium kettle from the trivet it was sitting on beside her range-style cooker and carried it over to the sink to fill. As she did so, she watched her husband, still working in the garden. He had cleared the pathway to his wooden studio completely of snow and was now clearing the birdbath. He brushed the snow aside and, with the handle of a small trowel, tapped the surface of the frozen water, tilting it so that he could remove the top layer of ice. It came loose in one frozen circle, which he put to one side, and then filled the bath with fresh water from a can.
Patricia smiled, for she knew the water would be frozen again in no time at all, but Geoffrey hated to see the birds suffer. He hated to see anything
‘He won’t be getting off.’
‘There’s plenty as do. And what will he get anyway? Some nominal sentence and serve half of it?’ Roy scraped the fat from his hot plate angrily.
‘We do what we can.’
‘I know.’
‘And he did more than just rape the woman, Roy.’
‘I’d have been in your shoes, Jack, I’d have made sure he didn’t even make it to court.’
‘Not the way I operate.’
Roy twitched the corner of his mouth. ‘That’s not what they say in the papers.’
‘Not true, Roy.’
‘Might influence the jury, though.’
Delaney took another bite of his sandwich. Drops of the red sauce squirting from it stained the snow beside his feet. He looked down at the bright red splatters glistening against the brilliance of the snow in the early-morning sunlight, and then back up at the roadside chef.
‘Like I said, he’ll get what’s coming to him.’
He scuffed his foot over the crimson stain, crushing it under the snow.
Delaney walked along the platform towards the steps leading up to the ancient courthouse. He was aware of the barrage of questions being shouted at him, of the lights flashing as photographs were taken, of the fact that film cameras were being pointed at him. But he ignored it all. He walked through them, not even bothering to say: No comment .
‘Knock ’em dead, Delaney.’
Delaney turned, recognising the familiar voice. Melanie Jones, the Sky News reporter, was standing close by, her cameraman training a state-of-the-art HD video camera on him. Time was when Delaney would have ignored her too. But things had changed. Maybe Delaney was getting less cynical, maybe Melanie Jones was. Either way, when Delaney looked across at the woman, she seemed to be genuinely encouraging. He gave the smallest, barely noticeable nod to her and walked into the court building.
His boss, Superintendent George Napier, was standing in full dress uniform inside, waiting for him.
He strode across and pulled Delaney to one side. ‘Where the bloody hell have you been?’
‘Something came up, sir.’
‘What?’
‘Breakfast, sir. Needed to get something to eat.’
‘You better be bloody joking, Delaney.’
‘The car was playing up. The cold, sir. Took longer to sort out than I thought.’
‘And in the meantime you didn’t think to call or return any of Diane’s calls?’
‘The phone was inside on charge, boss. Didn’t see the calls missed until I was halfway here.’
Napier looked at Delaney closely. He was pretty certain the man was lying to him, treating him as he did everything else – like it was some kind of joke. Only Napier wasn’t laughing. The man had been skating on thin ice so long, it was a miracle to him that Delaney was still in the force. If Diane hadn’t protected him like a jealous tiger protects her cubs, he’d have been gone long ago. True, he had cleaned his act up in recent months – Dr Kate Walker was clearly having an influence on the man. But he didn’t trust him. Not as far as he could kick him.
‘Just make sure you stick to the script, Delaney.’
‘Of course, sir,’ said Delaney and smiled, walking onwards into the court.
The look in his eyes told a very different story, however.
24.
PATRICIA HUNT TOOK the large aluminium kettle from the trivet it was sitting on beside her range-style cooker and carried it over to the sink to fill. As she did so, she watched her husband, still working in the garden. He had cleared the pathway to his wooden studio completely of snow and was now clearing the birdbath. He brushed the snow aside and, with the handle of a small trowel, tapped the surface of the frozen water, tilting it so that he could remove the top layer of ice. It came loose in one frozen circle, which he put to one side, and then filled the bath with fresh water from a can.
Patricia smiled, for she knew the water would be frozen again in no time at all, but Geoffrey hated to see the birds suffer. He hated to see anything
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