The Last Girl: (Maeve Kerrigan 3) by Jane Casey

Author:Jane Casey [Casey, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery & Detective, Fiction, General
ISBN: 9781446491997
Google: smk5SdFiYU4C
Publisher: Ebury Publishing
Published: 2012-05-24T17:10:31+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

‘I DON’T KNOW why you even bothered to show up, to be honest with you. It’s not as if I can’t manage on my own. Besides, you look like shit.’

Derwent was in a foul mood, and taking it out on the nearest person came naturally to him, especially when that person was me.

‘The reason I look like shit is because I had three hours’ sleep,’ I said patiently. ‘The reason I bothered to show up is because I wanted to meet Gerard Harman.’

‘Think he’s a credible suspect? A man in his sixties? A widower whose dead daughter never got justice, thanks to Philip Kennford? Think he’s capable of slaughtering two people?’

‘I don’t know yet. I’ll wait until I meet him.’ We were sitting in the car outside Harman’s address, a small bungalow near Reigate that wasn’t quite far enough from the M25. With the windows down, the traffic noise was constant and constantly jarring, too loud for it to turn to background sound no matter how long we sat there. ‘He had every reason to feel bitter about Kennford. And there’s a certain poetic justice to killing his daughter, isn’t there?’

‘He’s an old man.’ Derwent shook his head. ‘Doesn’t matter how angry he is. I don’t think he’d be able to chase down Vita and stab her multiple times once she’d seen him kill Laura.’

‘Plenty of men in their sixties are strong and fit. If he was active––’

‘No fucking way. This is another wild goose chase.’ Derwent was tapping the steering wheel, obviously edgy.

‘You’d rather be somewhere else.’

‘I’d rather be doing something useful, yeah.’ He glanced at me. ‘At least you got to do something this morning. And got an invite to the boss’s latest big idea, which sounds like bullshit to me. Asking Skinner to stop killing people is like asking a fish to stop swimming.’

‘I was a bit surprised by it.’

‘“I was a bit surprised by it”,’ he repeated in an idiotic voice. ‘Well, I was a bit surprised to hear you were there in the first place.’

He had been snappy since I’d found him having lunch alone in the team’s room, takeaway hot dogs slick with grease and onions. The food smelled like warm coins. By dint of patient questioning and perseverance I gathered he had spent the morning at Southwark Crown Court giving evidence, so I hadn’t missed anything in the Kennford case. Not that that made up for my being asked to attend the North Clapham crime scene, it was quite clear. It was almost a relief that he was prepared to talk about it – he had absolutely refused to ask me anything up to now, contenting himself with glowering at me and being as rude as only Derwent could be.

‘I don’t know why Godley wanted me there. I don’t know why you didn’t get a call to the crime scene this morning. It seems to me you’re the one person who should be involved in the gang murders, and it doesn’t make any sense that you aren’t.

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