unidentified sets. That’s a bit odd, don’t you think?”
“Is it?” Jason replied.
“Well, how many different sets do you think would be in your car?”
Jason thought for a moment, his skin flushing. “Well, quite a few. I had the car fixed a couple of weeks ago. Could have been several mechanics working on it, right?”
“Hmm, fair point, I guess.” Lou made a note; someone would have to check the car’s service history, get a list of people who were insured to drive it. “Wonder why Nigel’s prints are in there? He has better cars to drive than hers.”
“Maybe it was in the way and he moved it.”
“Maybe.” Next report, forwarded from Andy Hamilton—the prints from inside the kitchen of the Fletcher-Normans: two sets, his and hers. No others.
“We need Brian to wake up,” Lou said.
“The phone data is coming through,” Jason said. “I need to start work on that.”
“Will it take long?”
“You’re a hard taskmaster.”
When she looked up he was giving her a smile. Cheeky.
“Damn right I am. You’d better get busy before I start thinking up penalties for slacking.”
07:57
Detective Superintendent Gordon Buchanan had descended like the Lord Almighty from the command floor to attend Lou’s second briefing.
A small man, he made up for his lack of stature with a personality that demanded full attention, rewarded it with hearty good wishes, and punished the lack of it with a merciless bellowing that put the fear of God into all those unfortunate enough to find themselves on the receiving end. Lou had worked for him on a previous case, had been lucky enough to spot something that should have been glaringly obvious but which everyone else had missed. She took it to her colleagues first, who were grateful that she’d not taken the matter straight to Buchanan himself. They’d worked through the case, but somehow Buchanan had got wind of what had happened and had had a soft spot for her ever since. He valued hard work and bright intelligence, and she was there ready to dish out both in spades.
In addition, she wasn’t half-bad-looking either, and as everyone knew, Gordon Buchanan liked his ladies.
He sat at the front, facing the room, a reminder that there would be hell on a stick if anyone made any unfortunate cock-up, and that if things went well there might be future glory for whoever made the vital breakthrough that helped bring Polly Leuchars’s killer to justice.
Lou was supposed to have offered some sort of prebriefing briefing for him, but she had been too busy. As she strode into the room ahead of everyone else she mouthed an apology. Buchanan pointedly looked at his watch as though things were running behind schedule and he was a very busy man, but Lou was on time and she knew it. Her priority was the investigation, in any case, not sucking up to the boss.
“Sir,” she said, “thanks for coming. I appreciate it.”
“Not at all,” he said, melting. For someone with such a lot of front, he was very easily buttered up. “How’s it going?”
“Rather well, I think,” Lou said, “but it’s very early days.”
“Thanks for your voice mail last night. I’m afraid you’re going to get the other case too, by the look of it. However, I’ve managed to get you a couple more DCs, for now.”
Andy Hamilton was sitting behind Buchanan, chatting happily to Ali Whitmore, one of the DCs who’d been working on the Fletcher-Norman case yesterday. Who was the other one?
Lou had a PowerPoint presentation that Jason had knocked together for her with bullet points which had already emerged from the investigation.
“Right, thanks, everyone, let’s get on with it,” she said.
First slide, the Op Nettle title slide.
“Okay, we’ve got the initial pathology report back which tells us that Polly was killed between midnight and two, no later than that. Priority for me is to trace her exact movements on the evening before she died. Andy, can you give us an update on the
“Is it?” Jason replied.
“Well, how many different sets do you think would be in your car?”
Jason thought for a moment, his skin flushing. “Well, quite a few. I had the car fixed a couple of weeks ago. Could have been several mechanics working on it, right?”
“Hmm, fair point, I guess.” Lou made a note; someone would have to check the car’s service history, get a list of people who were insured to drive it. “Wonder why Nigel’s prints are in there? He has better cars to drive than hers.”
“Maybe it was in the way and he moved it.”
“Maybe.” Next report, forwarded from Andy Hamilton—the prints from inside the kitchen of the Fletcher-Normans: two sets, his and hers. No others.
“We need Brian to wake up,” Lou said.
“The phone data is coming through,” Jason said. “I need to start work on that.”
“Will it take long?”
“You’re a hard taskmaster.”
When she looked up he was giving her a smile. Cheeky.
“Damn right I am. You’d better get busy before I start thinking up penalties for slacking.”
07:57
Detective Superintendent Gordon Buchanan had descended like the Lord Almighty from the command floor to attend Lou’s second briefing.
A small man, he made up for his lack of stature with a personality that demanded full attention, rewarded it with hearty good wishes, and punished the lack of it with a merciless bellowing that put the fear of God into all those unfortunate enough to find themselves on the receiving end. Lou had worked for him on a previous case, had been lucky enough to spot something that should have been glaringly obvious but which everyone else had missed. She took it to her colleagues first, who were grateful that she’d not taken the matter straight to Buchanan himself. They’d worked through the case, but somehow Buchanan had got wind of what had happened and had had a soft spot for her ever since. He valued hard work and bright intelligence, and she was there ready to dish out both in spades.
In addition, she wasn’t half-bad-looking either, and as everyone knew, Gordon Buchanan liked his ladies.
He sat at the front, facing the room, a reminder that there would be hell on a stick if anyone made any unfortunate cock-up, and that if things went well there might be future glory for whoever made the vital breakthrough that helped bring Polly Leuchars’s killer to justice.
Lou was supposed to have offered some sort of prebriefing briefing for him, but she had been too busy. As she strode into the room ahead of everyone else she mouthed an apology. Buchanan pointedly looked at his watch as though things were running behind schedule and he was a very busy man, but Lou was on time and she knew it. Her priority was the investigation, in any case, not sucking up to the boss.
“Sir,” she said, “thanks for coming. I appreciate it.”
“Not at all,” he said, melting. For someone with such a lot of front, he was very easily buttered up. “How’s it going?”
“Rather well, I think,” Lou said, “but it’s very early days.”
“Thanks for your voice mail last night. I’m afraid you’re going to get the other case too, by the look of it. However, I’ve managed to get you a couple more DCs, for now.”
Andy Hamilton was sitting behind Buchanan, chatting happily to Ali Whitmore, one of the DCs who’d been working on the Fletcher-Norman case yesterday. Who was the other one?
Lou had a PowerPoint presentation that Jason had knocked together for her with bullet points which had already emerged from the investigation.
“Right, thanks, everyone, let’s get on with it,” she said.
First slide, the Op Nettle title slide.
“Okay, we’ve got the initial pathology report back which tells us that Polly was killed between midnight and two, no later than that. Priority for me is to trace her exact movements on the evening before she died. Andy, can you give us an update on the
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