Watching You by Michael Robotham

Author:Michael Robotham
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9781847445261
Publisher: Little Brown Book Group
Published: 2013-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

30

The police constable standing outside Ruiz’s house has a boyish haircut and an eager expression, tipping his hat whenever someone walks by, wishing them a good afternoon. He reminds Ruiz of himself forty years ago, full of expectation and pride in the uniform.

Ruiz opens his gate and strolls up the front path.

‘Detective Inspector Ruiz?’

‘You can drop the rank. I’m retired.’

‘I’m here to collect you, sir.’

‘And who might you be?’

‘PC Banks.’

‘You got a first name?’

‘Robert.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘You’re a copper called Rob Banks?’

‘It causes some merriment, sir, but I’ve learned to live with it.’

The turn of phrase makes Ruiz want to laugh but he decides not to double down on the mockery. Instead he glances at the threatening clouds and reaches into his jacket for his keys.

‘Where are you going, sir?’

‘This is where I live.’

‘My guv wants a quiet word. He sent me to get you.’

‘Tell him I’m open to house calls. I’ll put the kettle on.’

‘He’s at the station, sir. He’s conducting a murder investigation.’

‘Then he’ll probably want a biscuit.’

Half an hour later, the doorbell rings. Ruiz can see a figure silhouetted behind the frosted glass, shaking an umbrella. A wet strand of hair is curved against his forehead.

‘I’m Detective Inspector Gennia,’ says the man, hanging the umbrella across his forearm. ‘I believe you’re expecting me.’

Ruiz opens the door wider.

‘I’m not coming inside,’ says Gennia. ‘You wanted a personal invitation. Here I am.’

The detective is a big man who might have played rugby except his nose is too straight and his ears are too pretty. Ruiz won’t hold it against him. He recognises something in the younger man’s face. ‘Have we met before?’

‘You knew my mother,’ Gennia replies.

‘That doesn’t narrow it down a whole lot.’

‘Katie Sylbert.’

Pieces fall into place. Kate Sylbert was one of the first female police officers recruited into the Flying Squad back in the eighties. She died almost thirty years ago, executing a search warrant on a drug den in Brixton. A junkie called Cullen McCurtie opened fire through the door. Later he claimed that Katie had failed to identify herself as a police officer.

‘You came to the funeral,’ say Gennia.

‘You must have been all of ten.’ Ruiz can remember a young boy standing next his mother’s open grave, holding his little sister’s hand, flinching during the three-volley rifle salute. Only a handful of female police officers have been killed in the line of duty in Britain. Katie was the second of them. She was from a police family. Her father and brother had been officers. And now there is another generation.

‘How is your father?’ asks Ruiz.

‘He’s moved to Norfolk to be closer to my sister.’

‘She’s married?’

‘Three kids.’

‘What about you?’

‘Just one boy.’

The pleasantries have been exhausted. A car is waiting.

‘You want to tell me what this is about?’ asks Ruiz.

Gennia opens the car door for him. ‘We’re not going far.’

Fulham Public Mortuary is in Sands End at the southernmost part of the borough of Hammersmith. It used to be a solid working-class area until the property developers bought up

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