second before my brain started working again. With awareness came a warm jolt of pure anger. I dragged my arm out of his grasp and put one hand to my chest, where my heart was doing its best to batter its way out of my ribcage.
‘You scared the shit out of me.’
‘Sorry about that.’ He didn’t sound it. ‘What were you talking to the boss about?’
No point in prevaricating; he knew as well as I did that he had been the subject of our conversation. He was a senior officer but he wasn’t behaving like one and I replied in kind. ‘Godley wanted to let me know that I shouldn’t think you were a total twat, even if you acted like one. I’m paraphrasing,’ I added.
‘Was that all?’
‘He said you were a good copper.’ I waited for a few seconds, taking the opportunity to put my coat on properly. I tied the belt in a knot, pulling it tight. ‘Now that we both know what the boss thinks of us, can I go? I’m late.’
‘Yeah.’ He stepped out of my way and I started to move past him. ‘Before you go … if you have any more bright ideas about this case, I’d like you to share them with me before we go into briefings, instead of making me look unprepared.’
‘You were unprepared. You hadn’t read the files,’ I pointed out. ‘But that’s my job. You’re supposed to be handling the big picture, according to Godley, while I take care of the details. So don’t worry about what he thought of you. Anyway, I hadn’t put it all together until we sat down and started talking about it. I’d have told you in advance if I’d thought of it then. I’m not interested in playing games – I just want to do a good job and help catch this murderer.’
‘Very laudable.’ Derwent was looking amused. If anything, I found it more unsettling than when he was angry. ‘I like you, Kerrigan. You don’t back down.’
‘Not often. Not when I’m right.’ I sidestepped him and started down the stairs. A tingle between my shoulder blades told me he was watching. He couldn’t see that my heart was still pounding, or that the hand I had stuck in my coat pocket was trembling with leftover adrenalin. I kept my head high and my shoulders squared, and forced myself to take my time. I still expected him to call me back or grab hold of me again, and I found myself holding my breath until I had turned the corner and stepped out of sight.
I was late leaving work and Dec would be waiting. It was a reason to hurry. But in truth, that wasn’t why I ran the rest of the way to my car.
Chapter Five
I feared the worst when I got back to the shabby double-fronted Edwardian house that was my new home. No Declan sitting on the dirty granite steps that led up to the front door. No Declan reading the paper moodily in the driver’s seat of his van, which was parked almost outside the house. No Declan in the hall when I opened the front door, although the stacks of cardboard boxes outside my door were incontrovertible proof that he had been there, and recently. I stood and looked at them, thinking extremely unenthusiastically about the physical effort it would take to move them from the hall into my flat, where I was going to put them once I’d got them inside, and how much time that would leave for cleaning and primping afterwards – not much, was the depressing answer. Not enough.
My flat was on one side of the ground floor. The dark and dusty hall currently filled with my junk was otherwise empty apart from a large, ornate staircase that gave a clue to the house’s more dignified past. It was a distant grandeur; its sad decline into multiple occupancy hadn’t happened today or yesterday or even ten years ago. High in the roof, a stained skylight allowed a greyish glimmer of daylight to penetrate, but late on a March evening it was already dark and the hall was correspondingly gloomy. The only other feature of note was the row of mailboxes nailed to the wall near my door.
On the other side of the hall there was a door that led
‘You scared the shit out of me.’
‘Sorry about that.’ He didn’t sound it. ‘What were you talking to the boss about?’
No point in prevaricating; he knew as well as I did that he had been the subject of our conversation. He was a senior officer but he wasn’t behaving like one and I replied in kind. ‘Godley wanted to let me know that I shouldn’t think you were a total twat, even if you acted like one. I’m paraphrasing,’ I added.
‘Was that all?’
‘He said you were a good copper.’ I waited for a few seconds, taking the opportunity to put my coat on properly. I tied the belt in a knot, pulling it tight. ‘Now that we both know what the boss thinks of us, can I go? I’m late.’
‘Yeah.’ He stepped out of my way and I started to move past him. ‘Before you go … if you have any more bright ideas about this case, I’d like you to share them with me before we go into briefings, instead of making me look unprepared.’
‘You were unprepared. You hadn’t read the files,’ I pointed out. ‘But that’s my job. You’re supposed to be handling the big picture, according to Godley, while I take care of the details. So don’t worry about what he thought of you. Anyway, I hadn’t put it all together until we sat down and started talking about it. I’d have told you in advance if I’d thought of it then. I’m not interested in playing games – I just want to do a good job and help catch this murderer.’
‘Very laudable.’ Derwent was looking amused. If anything, I found it more unsettling than when he was angry. ‘I like you, Kerrigan. You don’t back down.’
‘Not often. Not when I’m right.’ I sidestepped him and started down the stairs. A tingle between my shoulder blades told me he was watching. He couldn’t see that my heart was still pounding, or that the hand I had stuck in my coat pocket was trembling with leftover adrenalin. I kept my head high and my shoulders squared, and forced myself to take my time. I still expected him to call me back or grab hold of me again, and I found myself holding my breath until I had turned the corner and stepped out of sight.
I was late leaving work and Dec would be waiting. It was a reason to hurry. But in truth, that wasn’t why I ran the rest of the way to my car.
Chapter Five
I feared the worst when I got back to the shabby double-fronted Edwardian house that was my new home. No Declan sitting on the dirty granite steps that led up to the front door. No Declan reading the paper moodily in the driver’s seat of his van, which was parked almost outside the house. No Declan in the hall when I opened the front door, although the stacks of cardboard boxes outside my door were incontrovertible proof that he had been there, and recently. I stood and looked at them, thinking extremely unenthusiastically about the physical effort it would take to move them from the hall into my flat, where I was going to put them once I’d got them inside, and how much time that would leave for cleaning and primping afterwards – not much, was the depressing answer. Not enough.
My flat was on one side of the ground floor. The dark and dusty hall currently filled with my junk was otherwise empty apart from a large, ornate staircase that gave a clue to the house’s more dignified past. It was a distant grandeur; its sad decline into multiple occupancy hadn’t happened today or yesterday or even ten years ago. High in the roof, a stained skylight allowed a greyish glimmer of daylight to penetrate, but late on a March evening it was already dark and the hall was correspondingly gloomy. The only other feature of note was the row of mailboxes nailed to the wall near my door.
On the other side of the hall there was a door that led
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