Someone Else's Skin: (DI Marnie Rome) by Hilary Sarah

Author:Hilary, Sarah [Hilary, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2014-02-26T16:00:00+00:00

‘Coffee,’ Marnie told Noah when she came out of Welland’s office. ‘I’m buying.’

Her expression gave away nothing of what had happened after Noah left the meeting. Not that he needed many clues; Welland had made his mood clear enough. Noah wished Marnie had let him tell Welland a few more facts about their investigation, instead of cutting him off at the knees.

In the local coffee shop, she ordered two flat whites, both with an extra shot. ‘I’ve got an address for Lowell Paton. It’s not far. Let’s walk.’

A three-mile run would’ve been better for both of them, but this way they could keep working. Noah sipped at the coffee, keeping pace with Marnie.

‘Welland’s pissed off about Hope. He’s insisting she should’ve been under police guard at the hospital. “Attempted murder”, I’m quoting here, “is still a crime in our neck of the woods, whatever hymn sheet you’re singing from, DI Rome.” That clears us for putting resources behind finding her.’

‘Why didn’t you tell him about the cupboard under the stairs? Or the medical exam.’

She heard the edge in his voice and raised her eyebrows. ‘We didn’t have a warrant. Hard evidence needs to be iron-clad, remember?’

You’re the one who forgot it, Noah thought, when you questioned Leo at the hospital.

‘What about Ayana?’ he demanded. ‘Is Welland going to let us get a warrant?’

‘I’ve called Ed, to see what he can do. Welland thinks Victim Support might stand a better chance with the family than us right now.’

‘Ed’s not the police.’

‘No,’ she agreed, ‘he’s not.’

‘So we’re delegating to him just because the CPS is neurotic.’

‘We’re not delegating anything, Detective.’ Her tone was a slap on the wrist. ‘We’re making proper use of the resources available to us.’

Trying to pick a fight with Marnie Rome was like trying to dig your fingers into marble; you just ended up with an ache in your fists. ‘It’s idiotic.’

‘It’s politic, and it’s pragmatic. Idiotic would be running in blind, because we didn’t stop and think first.’ Another slap, this one on the face. She didn’t like him criticising Ed, that much was clear. They walked on, not speaking.

London was still waking up, although it was close to ten o’clock. The office workers were entrenched, the school run was over. It was a dead hour of the day, before the lunchtime rush. Two passenger jets cross-hatched the sky: white lines on a whiter background. Closer at hand, a couple of sparrows practised their spring flight patterns.

Birdsong was an eerie sound in central London. Like hearing the sea before you could see it – a reminder that Nature was behind or beneath everything, even those places where men had done their best to obliterate her.

Noah wondered if Ayana could hear birdsong, or the sea. He wanted to think she was near a phone, or a weapon. He realised he was wishing for a crime like the one Hope Proctor had committed at the refuge.

Marnie walked ahead of him, to drop her empty coffee cup into a litter bin.

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