set foot outside the place till gone eleven.”
Bev’s contempt was barely masked. Shields let the silence linger for a few more seconds, then snapped. “Why wasn’t that in your report?”
Bev shrugged. “Only just had it confirmed. DC New called it in. He’s at the pub with DS Kent.”
A joker quipped, “Nothing new there then.” No one laughed; everyone was waiting for Shields’s response. A tuneless rendition of The Archers theme tune drifted in from
the corridor, courtesy of a tone-deaf whistler.
Shields narrowed her eyes. “Information of that calibre should be passed upwards immediately.” A raised hand forestalled any protest. “Time is of the essence. The first
twenty-four hours in a murder inquiry are crucial.”
“Pass the eggs,” muttered Bev. Byford ran a hand over his face.
“I beg your pardon?” Shields asked.
“The legs.” Bev pointed at Bernie’s chair. The news chief had it tipped back at a precarious angle. “I thought it was about to go. Wouldn’t want Bernie to take a
dive.”
The sniggers were audible. Shields glanced at Bev, then made a note on a lined pad on her lap.
“Obviously this later stuff will be in my report.” Bev paused. “When I’ve had time to write it. For what it’s worth, guv –” she turned pointedly to
Byford – “I actually think Marty’s a distraction. Maybe even a deliberate distraction. Let’s assume for a min we’re looking at the same gang that attacked Iris and the
others?” She waited for his assenting nod. “I think we need to go back to the beginning, only this time ask the old dears different questions.”
Another nod. “Go on.”
“As it stands, the only link is the approximate age of the murder victim. The other attacks happened in the old women’s homes, and none of them were life-threatening. It didn’t
look as if the woman this morning had anything worth nicking. On the face of it, there’s not much there. But what if there’s something else; something we’ve missed?”
“Like?” Byford asked.
She related Ena’s story about the daffodils. “It may be nothing. But if the same thing happened at Iris and Joan’s… We’ll know the attacks are down to the same
gang.” And now they’ve killed. The thought went unspoken but was shared by everyone.
“Worth a look,” Byford said. “I’m interested too in the timings. This theory of yours that the body was most likely concealed?”
“There’s a load of sheds on the allotments. Reg and the lads are giving it priority.”
“ID is priority at this stage, surely?” Shields turned her glance to Byford. “What about a news conference? Witness appeal? I don’t mind doing the honours.”
He silenced Bev with a look. “Thanks, Inspector, I may take you up on that. Although given the access the media’s already had, I can’t imagine they’ll be falling over
themselves for a talking head.”
A few bongs à la News at Ten chimed from the ranks but a Byford eyebrow muffled further sound effects. He then assigned the clowns responsible to the team that was already
ploughing through the paperwork generated by the early coverage.
Bev used the break to cast covert glances of her own at the new DI. The woman had to be in her mid-thirties; had a figure to diet for and unlined café latte skin. She was mixed race but
Bev’d be hard pushed to give a breakdown. The almond eyes and chestnut hair co-ordinated like a colour chart. Yet somehow the whole was less than attractive. Her sharp features gave her an
aloofness bordering on the chilly. Bev showed her emotions in her face; Shields had so far revealed nothing, though the smirk when Byford told Bev he wanted a word about the morning’s media
fiasco came close.
The ID issue was still unresolved. Bev waited for a gap and threw in a thought. “I have a hunch the old dear was sleeping rough. She was filthy, scruffy, been on the pop. Might be worth a
check with the shelters. See if someone can shed a bit of
Bev’s contempt was barely masked. Shields let the silence linger for a few more seconds, then snapped. “Why wasn’t that in your report?”
Bev shrugged. “Only just had it confirmed. DC New called it in. He’s at the pub with DS Kent.”
A joker quipped, “Nothing new there then.” No one laughed; everyone was waiting for Shields’s response. A tuneless rendition of The Archers theme tune drifted in from
the corridor, courtesy of a tone-deaf whistler.
Shields narrowed her eyes. “Information of that calibre should be passed upwards immediately.” A raised hand forestalled any protest. “Time is of the essence. The first
twenty-four hours in a murder inquiry are crucial.”
“Pass the eggs,” muttered Bev. Byford ran a hand over his face.
“I beg your pardon?” Shields asked.
“The legs.” Bev pointed at Bernie’s chair. The news chief had it tipped back at a precarious angle. “I thought it was about to go. Wouldn’t want Bernie to take a
dive.”
The sniggers were audible. Shields glanced at Bev, then made a note on a lined pad on her lap.
“Obviously this later stuff will be in my report.” Bev paused. “When I’ve had time to write it. For what it’s worth, guv –” she turned pointedly to
Byford – “I actually think Marty’s a distraction. Maybe even a deliberate distraction. Let’s assume for a min we’re looking at the same gang that attacked Iris and the
others?” She waited for his assenting nod. “I think we need to go back to the beginning, only this time ask the old dears different questions.”
Another nod. “Go on.”
“As it stands, the only link is the approximate age of the murder victim. The other attacks happened in the old women’s homes, and none of them were life-threatening. It didn’t
look as if the woman this morning had anything worth nicking. On the face of it, there’s not much there. But what if there’s something else; something we’ve missed?”
“Like?” Byford asked.
She related Ena’s story about the daffodils. “It may be nothing. But if the same thing happened at Iris and Joan’s… We’ll know the attacks are down to the same
gang.” And now they’ve killed. The thought went unspoken but was shared by everyone.
“Worth a look,” Byford said. “I’m interested too in the timings. This theory of yours that the body was most likely concealed?”
“There’s a load of sheds on the allotments. Reg and the lads are giving it priority.”
“ID is priority at this stage, surely?” Shields turned her glance to Byford. “What about a news conference? Witness appeal? I don’t mind doing the honours.”
He silenced Bev with a look. “Thanks, Inspector, I may take you up on that. Although given the access the media’s already had, I can’t imagine they’ll be falling over
themselves for a talking head.”
A few bongs à la News at Ten chimed from the ranks but a Byford eyebrow muffled further sound effects. He then assigned the clowns responsible to the team that was already
ploughing through the paperwork generated by the early coverage.
Bev used the break to cast covert glances of her own at the new DI. The woman had to be in her mid-thirties; had a figure to diet for and unlined café latte skin. She was mixed race but
Bev’d be hard pushed to give a breakdown. The almond eyes and chestnut hair co-ordinated like a colour chart. Yet somehow the whole was less than attractive. Her sharp features gave her an
aloofness bordering on the chilly. Bev showed her emotions in her face; Shields had so far revealed nothing, though the smirk when Byford told Bev he wanted a word about the morning’s media
fiasco came close.
The ID issue was still unresolved. Bev waited for a gap and threw in a thought. “I have a hunch the old dear was sleeping rough. She was filthy, scruffy, been on the pop. Might be worth a
check with the shelters. See if someone can shed a bit of
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