The Water Room (Bryant & May Mysteries (Paperback)) by Christopher Fowler

Author:Christopher Fowler
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Real estate development, Older women, Police, Mystery & Detective, Mystery:Historical, Drowning victims, Antiquities, Crimes against, General, Collection and preservation, London, Historical, Traditional British, England, Fiction
ISBN: 9780553587166
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 2006-03-28T21:29:50.478000+00:00

Meera Mangeshkar looked up from sixty pages of hardcopy, listening to the call-out. She had been trying to absorb city stats for the last two hours, but hated coursework. Forty-three police forces. Around 130,000 officers in UK, just one for every 400 civilians. 20,000 women, only 2,500 ethnic. The Met’s five areas were each the size of a complete force elsewhere in the country, but could still barely cope. Over six million 999 calls a year. 5,000 cars a month stolen in London, figures rising fast. Borough of Camden has the highest suicide rate in London.

What was the point of familiarizing yourself with the figures when you could do nothing about them? Raise the strike rate, drop kids into the criminal-justice system, watch them re-offend, pick up the pieces, console the latest victims. She had been on the edge of leaving the Met before her transfer, and still hoped that this unit would make a difference to the way she felt. The old guys had made her welcome, and John May, in particular, had gone out of his way to spend time explaining the unit’s unorthodox structure, but where were the interesting cases? When the call came through she took it, calling to Colin Bimsley as he was about to go off duty.

‘You can handle this, Meera. She’s seen the tramp before—just give him a warning, find out where he’s staying and take him back there.’

‘I know how to do my job, sonny,’ she yelled back. ‘I thought you might want to come with me.’

In the next room, Bimsley buttoned his shirt and threw his boots into his locker. ‘What, like a date or something?’

‘No, not a date, but you could give me a lift on your scooter.’

‘Only if we get something to eat afterwards, I’m starving. Look at the weather, it’s still pissing down. I could wait for you, then we could grab a takeaway and eat it at my flat . . .’

She could see where he was going with this. ‘Forget it, Colin, you’re so not my type.’

‘ “Not my type”?’ he mouthed to himself, amazed. He stuck his head around the door. ‘I’m clean-living, kind-hearted and pathetically single. If you’re going to pass on this great opportunity, can you at least fix me up with a date?’

‘Sure. My sister would like you. She’s cute and she might even go out with you. Just say the word and I’ll arrange it. But I warn you, she’s a Muslim.’

‘Would she really? What difference does it make, her being a Muslim?’

‘She’ll only go out with a Muslim boy, so you’d have to give up the beer,’ Meera told him. ‘And Muslims are circumcised, so you might need a small operation.’

‘Jesus, Meera, you have a sick sense of humour.’

‘What’s the matter, Colin? Feeling threatened? Now you know how I feel when you pester me.’

‘I think you spent too much time roughing it in the south London stations.’ Colin kicked his locker door shut. ‘Come on then. I’ll give you a lift, no strings attached.

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