Dead Memories (D.I. Kim Stone #10)(22)

‘Agreed,’ she said, opening the door.

‘And one more thing,’ he said.

Kim was beginning to feel like the headline act at a concert being called back for one more encore.

‘Go easy on her, eh? She’s not as tough as she thinks she is.’

Kim nodded and finally left the room, her interest piqued.

What the hell was that all about?





Thirty





Kim read the text message that had beeped its arrival as Woody had finally finished with her.

She frowned, followed its instructions and headed down to the cafeteria.

She found Alison and Bryant sitting in the corner nearest the kitchen. Alison had clearly missed breakfast and had opted for toast and orange juice, Bryant a mug of tea, and a large coffee appeared to be waiting for her.

She wound her way through the tables occupied with officers tucking into full English breakfasts. Other healthier options were available and would disappear from the chiller cabinet throughout the day, but right now it was all about the protein.

‘Feel better now, Inspector?’ Alison asked, taking notebooks from her briefcase.

‘About what?’ she asked, sitting down. Woody may have given Alison access to her case but she wasn’t getting access to her mind.

‘Well I assume that you’ve waited all night to speak to DCI Woodward after what I told you last night and you’ve been to see him at the earliest opportunity to have it out with him, and although nothing has changed you have lodged your objection; so I’m asking if you now feel better about my involvement in this case?’

‘S’pose so but what are we doing down here?’ she asked, as a cool breeze of air from the air con unit above travelled down her back. Not that she was complaining.

‘I assume, knowing you, that you haven’t changed your mind about involving your team since we last spoke?’

Kim shook her head.

‘Given that I felt it better to have this conversation in private, I have no interest in being distracted by efforts to identify the unknown subject in the metal.’

Kim admired her refusal to call him Rubik.

‘So, it’s best we do this away from the others.’

Kim looked to Bryant who shrugged.

‘What exactly are we doing?’

‘Right now, your team is looking for independent leads and clues, finding grudges, links, people they may have upset in the past, family and—’

‘Yes, it’s called police work and is something Bryant and I would like to be getting—’

‘So, we need to be looking at the other possibility,’ Alison said, completely ignoring her, causing Kim to wonder what the hell Woody had been talking about. There was not one vulnerable bone in this woman’s body.

‘Inspector, this double murder may somehow be linked to you, and as we can’t do that as a full team we’re going to have to do it away from the others.’

‘And how exactly do you propose we do this?’ Kim asked, crossing her arms.

‘We start by making a list,’ she answered, pushing a spare notebook and pen towards her and Bryant. ‘We make a long list of everyone you’ve managed to piss off.’

Bryant shook his head and pushed the pad back towards Alison. ‘Sorry, but I can’t be a party to this,’ he said, seriously.

Alison frowned. ‘Why not?’

Kim also looked to him for an answer.

‘Cos I’ve only got seven years until retirement.’





Thirty-One





‘Why the cafeteria?’ Stacey asked, looking around her computer screen. ‘When have you ever known the boss take a meeting in the bloody cafeteria?’

Penn removed his headphones. ‘Well, never but I’ve only been here for—’

‘Never is the correct answer,’ she said. ‘And why is that woman here at all?’

‘If you’re gonna keep asking me questions I can’t answer I’m going back to my own work,’ he said, picking the headphones back up.

‘You know the boss is keeping something from us, right? I mean, even you know that,’ Stacey said, drumming her fingers on the desk.

‘Not sure what you’re inferring with the “even you” thing but of course I know she’s not telling us everything, so I’m guessing she has her reasons and will share when—’

‘Penn, do you have any normal emotional responses at all?’ she asked.

‘Yes, when necessary,’ he said. ‘But now you’re just narked that I don’t feel the same way as you.’

Yes, she had to admit there was an element of truth to that. She wanted him to feel as pissed off as she was feeling at being left out in the cold.

‘Look, she’s given us work to do so we’d best just get cracking on the things she wants.’

‘Okay, what do you make of Rubik?’ she asked.

‘Jesus Christ,’ he muttered with frustration. ‘Tell me what you want me to think, I’ll think it, and then hopefully you’ll let me get back to work.’

‘Strange death, don’t you think?’ she asked, trying to picture the man’s entire body squashed amongst the metal.

‘Not really. There have been plenty of stranger deaths. There was a Brazilian guy who was killed when a cow fell through his roof. A nineteenth-century US lawyer accidentally shot himself demonstrating that a supposed victim could have shot themselves. A Canadian lawyer died throwing himself against a glass panel on the twenty-fourth floor of an office building. Glass didn’t break but it popped out and he fell to his death. Another—’