too,’ she replied. ‘Thought you might tell him then for a moment.’
‘What would be the fun in that? It wouldn’t give me any leverage, would it?’
‘No,’ she said, head on one side, ‘although it would move us off your area. I wouldn’t be able to stay in the gorgeous seaside town of East Rise if Greg knew the truth. I
think that you like having me around.’
‘I’m talking to you now simply because you may be able to help me, as much as it grieves me to say it. You have the ear of the part of the community I can’t always get to, and
as things currently stand, they trust you.’
She chewed her bottom lip.
‘I’ll pass back to you what I find out,’ she said, ‘on the condition that no one knows about my past.’
Harry sensed this was the end of the conversation for the time being, confirmed by Martha’s hand pushing open the door. A cold gust of air invaded the car. Up until this point, Harry
hadn’t noticed the raindrops hitting the window.
‘Do I have your guarantee on that?’ she said, one foot on the tarmac, the other still inside the Skoda.
‘Of course you do. And you’re right: as things currently stand, your band of merry men trust you. They find out the truth, we all lose.’
Chapter 15
‘Oh great,’ said DC Tom Delayhoyde. ‘To finish our very long night at work off nicely, it’s teeming down.’
Sophia, sitting beside him in the driver’s seat of the unmarked Skoda, zipped up her jacket and peered through the windscreen.
‘My favourite,’ she said, ‘house-to-house enquiries in the rain, and only a stone’s throw away from the home of a murdered paedophile.’
She switched the engine off and scrambled behind her for her handbag and worn leather file.
No sooner had she turned off the wipers than the inside glass began to mist as the rain pelted down on the car.
‘Someone’s already calling at the flats in Pleasure Lane,’ said Tom. ‘That’s typical of my luck to get the houses with the big driveways along from the bloody crime
scene.’
‘Stop moaning,’ she said as she leafed through her paperwork to pluck a handful of forms and place them on top of all the others within the file.
‘I’ve got the house-to-house forms and the questionnaires ready so you don’t have to worry that your hair’ll get wet and make all that gel run down from your boyband
foppish hair to your pretty choirboy face and get in your eyes.’
‘And you won’t have to worry that the rain will wash out the dye in yours and show all of your grey.’
She turned sideways to face him as fully as the seats would allow.
‘Tom, can I ask you something?’
‘Yeah, Soph. At your age, I think you’re a natural brunette. Honest.’
‘No, not that. It’s about Gabrielle.’
‘Go on.’
She listened for a few seconds to the sound of the rain as it drummed on the car roof. Eventually she said, ‘Do you get the impression that she’s a bit odd?’
Tom rubbed his chin and thought about the question before he said, ‘Ye-es. But I think it’s only that – she’s a bit odd and possibly aloof. Maybe she’s got personal
problems at the moment, stuff that’s nothing to do with work. What exactly is your concern about her?’
‘It’s something I can’t quite put my finger on. I watched her tonight when she was looking at the CSI photos of the scene and Albie Woodville’s body. She reminded me of
what was in that sick sod’s spare room too. Not that I needed telling again.’
Her colleague shifted in his seat, let out a slow breath and said, ‘I get little joy myself from working all hours to find the murderers of a man who spent most of his adult life sexually
abusing children, especially one who thought it was perfectly acceptable to fill a room with dolls and mannequins of children, dress them in hospital gowns and have his own children’s ward
for kids with sexually transmitted diseases. He was a sick bastard, but Soph, murder is murder.’
She sat and thought
‘What would be the fun in that? It wouldn’t give me any leverage, would it?’
‘No,’ she said, head on one side, ‘although it would move us off your area. I wouldn’t be able to stay in the gorgeous seaside town of East Rise if Greg knew the truth. I
think that you like having me around.’
‘I’m talking to you now simply because you may be able to help me, as much as it grieves me to say it. You have the ear of the part of the community I can’t always get to, and
as things currently stand, they trust you.’
She chewed her bottom lip.
‘I’ll pass back to you what I find out,’ she said, ‘on the condition that no one knows about my past.’
Harry sensed this was the end of the conversation for the time being, confirmed by Martha’s hand pushing open the door. A cold gust of air invaded the car. Up until this point, Harry
hadn’t noticed the raindrops hitting the window.
‘Do I have your guarantee on that?’ she said, one foot on the tarmac, the other still inside the Skoda.
‘Of course you do. And you’re right: as things currently stand, your band of merry men trust you. They find out the truth, we all lose.’
Chapter 15
‘Oh great,’ said DC Tom Delayhoyde. ‘To finish our very long night at work off nicely, it’s teeming down.’
Sophia, sitting beside him in the driver’s seat of the unmarked Skoda, zipped up her jacket and peered through the windscreen.
‘My favourite,’ she said, ‘house-to-house enquiries in the rain, and only a stone’s throw away from the home of a murdered paedophile.’
She switched the engine off and scrambled behind her for her handbag and worn leather file.
No sooner had she turned off the wipers than the inside glass began to mist as the rain pelted down on the car.
‘Someone’s already calling at the flats in Pleasure Lane,’ said Tom. ‘That’s typical of my luck to get the houses with the big driveways along from the bloody crime
scene.’
‘Stop moaning,’ she said as she leafed through her paperwork to pluck a handful of forms and place them on top of all the others within the file.
‘I’ve got the house-to-house forms and the questionnaires ready so you don’t have to worry that your hair’ll get wet and make all that gel run down from your boyband
foppish hair to your pretty choirboy face and get in your eyes.’
‘And you won’t have to worry that the rain will wash out the dye in yours and show all of your grey.’
She turned sideways to face him as fully as the seats would allow.
‘Tom, can I ask you something?’
‘Yeah, Soph. At your age, I think you’re a natural brunette. Honest.’
‘No, not that. It’s about Gabrielle.’
‘Go on.’
She listened for a few seconds to the sound of the rain as it drummed on the car roof. Eventually she said, ‘Do you get the impression that she’s a bit odd?’
Tom rubbed his chin and thought about the question before he said, ‘Ye-es. But I think it’s only that – she’s a bit odd and possibly aloof. Maybe she’s got personal
problems at the moment, stuff that’s nothing to do with work. What exactly is your concern about her?’
‘It’s something I can’t quite put my finger on. I watched her tonight when she was looking at the CSI photos of the scene and Albie Woodville’s body. She reminded me of
what was in that sick sod’s spare room too. Not that I needed telling again.’
Her colleague shifted in his seat, let out a slow breath and said, ‘I get little joy myself from working all hours to find the murderers of a man who spent most of his adult life sexually
abusing children, especially one who thought it was perfectly acceptable to fill a room with dolls and mannequins of children, dress them in hospital gowns and have his own children’s ward
for kids with sexually transmitted diseases. He was a sick bastard, but Soph, murder is murder.’
She sat and thought
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