Murder By Mistletoe: A British Murder Mystery (DI Declan Walsh Crime Thrillers Book 13) (Detective Inspector Declan Walsh) by Jack Gatland

Author:Jack Gatland [Gatland, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hooded Man Media
Published: 2022-12-10T16:00:00+00:00

15

BLOOD WORK

After the briefing had ended, Doctor Marcos had returned to her office on the ground floor, but De’Geer had been asked to take a minor diversion, taking his motorcycle and heading down to South London. Although he was a Sergeant now, he was still historically a motorcycle police officer, and because of this it was his police-issue motorcycle that pulled up on the junction of Pratt Walk and Lambeth Road, De’Geer clicking down the stand and pulling off his helmet as he stared across the street at the four-storey brown brick and glass building on the corner. Although housing the Metropolitan Police Central Communications Command Centre, it was also the home of the Metropolitan Police Forensic Science Laboratory, a Brutalist-style police complex with external concrete staircases, brick infill and a large concrete ventilation shaft that protruded out on the street corner.

Doctor Marcos wasn’t the biggest fan of it; she’d only really used it as a place of last resort, gaining intelligence on a potential murder weapon that would clear Declan when he was accused of terrorism, or hunting down rogue forensic examiners during a gang war. And, now she had De’Geer to do it for her, she made a point of avoiding arriving here whenever she could, sending him instead.

And so, De’Geer placed his bike helmet under his arm and entered the building’s reception, where they scanned his ID, and pointed the way to the blood works floor.

It wasn’t actually called that; it was more a forensic screen unit, but as Doctor Osborne, De’Geer’s contact here focused primarily on blood and DNA profiling, the name kind of stuck.

‘De’Geer,’ Osborne said as he stared into a microscope, not looking up at De’Geer’s arrival. He was a young black man in his late twenties, but looked older because of a premature greying of his hair. He was stocky and unshaven and wore a Wrexham Football Club hoodie, even though he wasn’t Welsh. ‘Take a seat.’

‘How did you know it was me?’ De’Geer did as he was told.

‘Because you’re ten-foot tall and sound like an army of soldiers when you stomp into a room,’ Osborne finally looked up. ‘Oh, I see it’s fluorescent day today.’

‘Came by bike,’ De’Geer replied. ‘Following the safety guidelines.’

‘I thought guidelines were only for human-sized people,’ Osborne reached to the side and picked up a half-eaten sandwich, munching on it as he stared across the room. ‘Marcos send you for the results?’

De’Geer nodded.

‘And we couldn’t email them because they’re all hush-hush?’

Again, De’Geer nodded.

Osborne laughed at this.

‘Bloody Marcos never changes,’ he said. ‘She still marrying the Scot?’

‘I believe so,’ De’Geer replied, fidgeting.

‘Bloody hell. “I believe so.” You know, they did well when they built you in the Temple Inn basement, because you’re the perfect robot,’ Osborne mocked. ‘I bet you haven’t done any of the things we talked about last time you were here.’

De’Geer reddened.

‘The case,’ he explained. ‘It’s taken up time.’

‘You said you’d ask the girl copper out for a drink,’ Osborne spun in the chair now to fully face De’Geer.

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