Lazybones Thorne 3 by Mark Billingham

Author:Mark Billingham
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Rapists - Crimes against
ISBN: 9780060560850
Publisher: New York : Morrow, c2003.
Published: 2004-05-05T23:00:00+00:00

FOURTEEN

Carol Chamberlain was three-quarters of a team of two. She had been assigned a research officer, but ex-Detective Sergeant Graham McKee was, to us a favourite phrase of her husband's, about as useful as a chocolate teapot. When he wasn't in the pub, he made it perfectly clear that he thought Carol should have been the one making coffee and phone calls, while he was out doing the interviews. A few years ago, she'd have had his undersized balls on a platter. Now she just got on with doing the job, his as well as her own. It might take a bit longer, but at least it would get done properly. She believed in that. She couldn't be sure yet, but if the case she was on now had been handled properly first time round, there might well have been no need for her to be doing anything at all.

The drive to Hastings hadn't taken her as long as she'd thought, but she'd left early to be on the safe side. Jack had got up with her, made her some breakfast while she got ready. She could see that he was unhappy that she was going out on a Sunday but he'd tried to make a joke of it.

'Bloody unsociable hours. Sunday gone for a burton. Now I know you're working for the police force again...'

She checked her make-up in the mirror before she got out of the car. Maybe she'd overdone the foundation a little but it was too late now. She was pleased with her hair, though; she'd run a rinse through it the night before to get rid of most of the grey. Jack had told her she looked great.

She walked up to the front door and knocked, telling herself to calm down, that she'd done this a thousand times, that there was no need to grip on to the handle of her briefcase as though it were stopping her from falling...

'Sheila? I'm Carol Chamberlain from AMRU. We spoke on the phone...'

Carol could see that the woman who answered the door was clearly not expecting someone who looked like her, rinse or no rinse. She had gained a stone in weight for each year that she'd been out of the force, and at a little over five feet tall she knew very well how it looked. Her hair could be as fashionable and artificially auburn as she wanted, but - whatever lies Jack might tell her - she could do little about, the rest of it. However sharp she felt, she knew that those thirty years on the job showed in her face. Some mornings she stared at herself in-the bathroom mirror. She looked into her dark, disappearing eyes. Saw currants sinking into cake mix...

The woman opened the front door a little wider. However disappointed or confused she might be, Carol hoped that good old British reserve would prevent Sheila Franklin saying anything about it.

'I'll put the kettle on,' she said eventually. In the kitchen, while tea was being made, they spoke about weather and traffic.

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