The Infirmary (DCI Ryan Mysteries prequel)(32)

“I have more important things to worry about,” he muttered.

“Temper, temper,” she warned. “You’ve got bags under your eyes so big they could carry shopping and I’ve seen the state of your fridge. Why don’t you let me help for a few days? I can feed you some steak and consider my sisterly duty discharged.”

Ryan checked the time on his watch and shoved the last of his toast in his mouth.

“Fine,” he mumbled. “Just don’t start scattering any cushions about the place.”

*

According to Sharon Cooper’s neighbour, her son, Will, had been the last person to see her alive. However, Will Cooper’s recollection of events was very different and so it fell upon Phillips and Lowerson to find out whose version was correct.

“The thing is, son, you can’t go in guns blazing,” Phillips said, as they made their way towards the main entrance of the Dental Hospital, where Will was a student. “The last thing we want is for him to clam up. We need young Will Cooper to tell us as much as possible about his relationship with his mum and he won’t do that if he thinks we’re against him.”

Lowerson nodded vigorously.

“D’ you want to be good cop or bad cop?”

Phillips barked out a laugh.

“Let’s not run before we can walk, eh? We’re not interviewing Al Capone.”

Lowerson was mildly disappointed but recovered quickly.

“He says he was at home on Saturday night, studying, and hadn’t seen his mum for a couple of weeks.”

“And what do you make of that?”

They paused outside the main doors to the Dental Hospital while Lowerson considered the question.

“Cooper’s bank accounts haven’t flagged any unusual activity and no large sums were paid out to anybody, including her son. She wasn’t minted, she got by the same as the rest of us, so there’s no obvious financial motive that I can see for Will Cooper wanting to off his own mother. On the other hand, her neighbour seems adamant it was Will she saw entering his mum’s home on Saturday night, around eight o’clock. I don’t see what possible reason the neighbour would have to lie.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Phillips said, and clapped an arm around the younger man’s shoulder. “You’re growing more cynical and suspicious every day and it’s enough to warm the cockles of m’ old heart. Howay, let’s go and find out whether Will Cooper has any reason to lie.”

*

Ryan had been ambushed.

He realised that he should have seen it coming when Gregson rang him twice in the space of half an hour to make sure he was running on time for their supposed progress meeting. He also should have seen it coming when Gregson told him to wear a tie.

And yet, when he entered his superintendent’s office to find the constabulary’s media liaison officer and two of the city’s leading journalists already seated with half-drunk cups of coffee, he was taken aback.

“Sorry, sir, I thought we said ten o’clock.”

“We did, Ryan. Pull yourself together and close the door.”

Ryan did as he was told but remained standing beside the door, in case an emergency exit was required.

Gregson was not fooled.

“Come in and meet Tayo Jackson and Jacqueline Beard, from the BBC and ITV News, respectively.”

“We’ve met before,” Ryan replied. Innate good manners compelled him to shake their outstretched hands.

Two pairs of probing eyes watched him, stripping him bare.

“Sir? I’m sorry to hurry things along but we have quite a busy morning ahead of us.”

Gregson steepled his hands and smiled genially. He recognised the ploy and had used it many times himself.

“It’s time we spoke to the public,” he said, in his usual forthright manner. “It’s necessary, for us and for them. There’s a lot of unease on the streets and it’s time we put their minds at rest.”

“Sir, if I can speak freely?”

Gregson glanced meaningfully at their guests, who listened with unconcealed delight.

“By all means,” he said mildly, but his voice held a warning.

“The public interest is better served by letting our team do its work. Without interruption,” Ryan said. “There’s been enough news coverage of the murders and it’s only inciting more panic.”

“That’s where you come in,” the woman spoke up. “They want to hear from the person leading the investigation. It’s important they see you and connect with you, so they know somebody is fighting to protect them. Otherwise, you’re just another faceless name and rank.”

“This isn’t up for debate,” Gregson put in, before Ryan could argue. “Jacqueline and Tayo have some questions they’d like to ask ahead of a press conference which has been scheduled for eleven. I trust you’ll be able to allay any concerns they might have.”

Ryan stood for one fulminating second, irritation radiating from his body and transmitting itself across the room. But duty and professionalism won out, as they always did.

“Yes, sir.”

*

The Dental Hospital in Newcastle resembled any other clinical facility across the land, built sometime in the eighties and with the laissez-faire attitude towards inspiring architecture that characterised the era. It was located next door to the Royal Victoria Infirmary and the university medical school, forming a triangle of buildings within a two-minute walk of each other.