Blood Work Read online

  'No way, man. That's my private property. That's cold, man. You got no cause. You got no right.'

  Sally opened the briefcase and pulled out several packs of white powder. 'And you got the right to remain silent.'

  'Fuck that.'

  'And the right to brag about the size of you hot dog to the boys of E Wing. I'm sure they'll have plenty of sauce for you.'

  Delaney nodded to the uniforms. 'Take him to the car.'

  The uniforms led him off cursing. Sally smiled and looked at Delaney. 'You think he's good for it?'

  'Doubt it somehow.'

  'So where does that leave us?'

  Delaney let out a long painful sigh and let the pain show on his face. 'In need of a drink.'

  'What's up, boss?'

  'I've dislocated my shoulder.'

  'Shall I take you down to the hospital?'

  Delaney held his right hand out, wincing. 'Just take my arm, both hands, and hold it tight.'

  'Sir?'

  'Just do it, Sally.'

  Sally, puzzled, did as she was asked.

  Delaney took a quick, sharp breath then wrenched his shoulder, snapping it back into place. 'Jesus, Mary, and all the sweet saints!' He staggered backwards, Sally still clinging to his arm. 'All right, you can let go now.'

  Sally released her grip and Delaney put his left hand against a lamp post.

  'You all right, sir?

  Delaney nodded at her, breathing deeply. 'You get off to the pub, I'll process laughing boy back at the factory.'

  'You going to join us later?'

  'Yeah, I reckon I've earned a pint today.'

  'Or twenty.'

  'You're getting the idea.'

  He watched Sally walk away, waited until she had turned the corner then staggered to a bus shelter, leaning against it with his good arm, fighting hard not to throw up as he took great gulping breaths and waited for the agony in his shoulder to subside.

  Kate closed Helen Archer's file and pushed it to the back of the desk as Caroline Akunin came into the room. 'When's the trial coming up?'

  'A few days.'

  'Not easy for her. Having to relive that all over again in court.'

  Caroline sat opposite her and took her hands. 'How are you doing?'

  Kate shook her head, blinking back tears.

  'He's not going to get away with it.'

  Kate gestured at the blue folder. 'How confident are the CPS on this?'

  Caroline shrugged. 'As confident as they can be in these cases. There is physical evidence.'

  'That he drugged her?'

  'Not of that. But bruising. DNA. Semen secretions on the carpet.'

  'So he'll go down for it? For her at least?'

  'He claims it was consensual. That she said she regretted the split. She asked him round, they drank a lot of brandy and then made love on the carpet in front of the fire.'

  'You're joking?'

  'No. He admits it was rough sex, but entirely consensual. It's what you would expect him to say, Kate. You know that. If he is going to deny rape, then he has to play the consensual card, given the physical evidence.'

  'So it's his word against hers?'

  Caroline nodded sadly. 'Always is. That's why only six per cent of them get prosecuted successfully.'

  The phone on Caroline's desk rang and Kate gestured towards it. 'You better get it.'

  Caroline answered the phone. 'Hello. Speaking.' She listened for a while. 'Okay, thank you.'

  He face was impassive but Kate could see something was worrying her as she hung up the phone. 'Bad news?'

  'It's your blood work, Kate.'

  'Go on.'

  'There's no evidence of Rohypnol.'

  'Which doesn't mean to say there wasn't any.'

  'No, of course not. Depending on the strength of whatever it was he used, it could have been flushed through your blood and out of your system before the tests.'

  'I know.'

  'There's something else . . .' Caroline hesitated.

  'What?'

  'You're pregnant, Kate.'

  Delaney pulled his car into the White City car park, and, as he stepped out of it, he had to shield his eyes from a bright light suddenly shining at him.

  Melanie Jones from Sky News stepped forward, smiling like an evangelist, and looked over at the long-haired cameraman who had his video camera on his shoulder and pointed straight at the policeman as though to launch an RPG. 'We running?' she asked him.

  The cameraman nodded and Melanie turned back to face Delaney. 'Melanie Jones, Sky News. What can you tell us, Detective Inspector Delaney, about the dead woman who was found on South Hampstead Heath this morning?'

  Delaney was too long in the tooth to be caught on the back foot like that. 'It's an ongoing investigation, I'm afraid. I'm not in a position to comment at present.'

  'Sky News has learned that there was mutilation of the body. Was this the work of a serial killer?'

  'When we have information, we'll call a press conference.' He made the words a dismissal.

  Melanie Jones called after him as he walked away. 'What is the significance of the belt buckle, Inspector?'

  Delaney's turned back to look at her, his eyes hardened. 'I beg your pardon?'

  'The Green Man belt buckle? What's so special about it?'

  Delaney walked towards the police station entrance. 'Come with me.'

  Melanie enjoyed matching her long stride to his. His reaction had pretty much told her that her source was genuine. The cameraman dropped his camera from his shoulder and followed at a more sedate pace. Delaney walked through reception and up to the security door. He quickly typed in the code on the small pad and opened the door. Melanie Jones walked through, but as the cameraman went to follow Delaney blocked his path. 'Not you.' He called across to the desk sergeant. 'Keep an eye on him for me, will you, Dave?

  Slimline Matthews nodded tersely and came around from behind the desk, showing his massive frame. 'Sure thing, Jack.'

  Delaney closed the door behind him.

  'What the hell do you think you're doing?' The reporter's normally smooth voice had nothing honey-like about it any more.

  'Come with me.' Delaney took her none too gently by the arm and marched her along the corridor. He opened the door to an interview room and pushed her into it, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. He crossed his arms. 'Start talking.'

  'No, I won't start talking. Who the hell do you think you are?'

  'My name is Jack Delaney. I'm a policeman.'

  Melanie snorted. 'I know who you are, for fuck's sake, what I want to know is what the hell you think you're doing?'

  'You kiss your mother with that mouth?'

  Melanie took a deep breath and smiled, full wattage. 'I tell you what, let's go back outside, let my cameraman through and we'll do this properly.'

  She walked up to the door but Delaney made no motion to move out of her way.

  'You mentioned the buckle.'

  'So?'

  'So how did you know about it?'

  'If you don't let me out of this room right now you'll have bigger problems to worry about than that.'

  Delaney gripped her upper arm. She kept herself in very good condition, that much was clear, but she gasped as he tightened his grip. 'No details have been released about the belt buckle. Why don't you tell me how you know about it?'

  Melanie met his gaze, unfazed. It was a long time since any man had scared her. 'How about you take your hand off the merchandise?'

  Delaney released his grip. 'Believe me, whatever you've got to peddle, I'm not in the market for, honey.'

  'I got a call. The belt buckle. He told me to ask you what belt buckles were for. He said it was a clue. Seems he was right.'

  'Who was it?'

  Melanie smiled. 'Back in the market, are we?

  'Just answer the fucking question.'

  'I don't know. Male voice, could be twenties, could be thirties.'

  'You didn't get his number?'r />
  Melanie shook her head. 'It was withheld. He said he was the artist responsible for this morning's installation piece on Hampstead Heath.'

  'What else did he say?'

  'He said you were obviously no student of art history so he was going to have to give you some more clues.'

  'He actually mentioned me by name?'

  'Yes.'

  And that was it?'

  'Just that and the belt buckle. He said he'd be in touch with me again.' Melanie rubbed her upper arm. 'This how you treat everyone who has information for you?'

  'You came in here pointing a camera and looking for a story. Not exactly trying to be a model citizen.' Delaney moved away from the door but Melanie Jones did not try to leave.

  'You have your job to do, Jack. I've got mine. You're smart?' She made it a question. 'You'll see how we can help each other here.'

  Delaney shook his head. 'Like you helped Alexander Walker last month?'

  Melanie tilted her head slightly, looking up at him. 'Is that what the attitude is all about?'

  'He was a poster boy for the worst kind of corruption in the police and you wanted to make him a media celebrity.'

  'We're both on the same side here, Detective Inspector. You got any children?'

  'What's that got to do with anything?'

  'Financial security, Jack . . .'

  'Don't call me that.'

  'For life. For you, for your family, for your children. The inside story on how you brought down Alexander Walker. And how you worked with me to bring down a serial killer.'

  'He's not a serial killer. And I work with you the day Johnny Cash starts his comeback tour.'

  Melanie Jones shook her head, deadly serious now. 'We have to work together, whether you like it or not, Detective Inspector. He's contacting me and this guy is a serial killer. You know it, I know it and, more importantly, he knows it.'

  Delaney would have responded but the door burst open and Superintendent George Napier barrelled past him into the room. He smiled apologetically at the reporter.

  'I am really sorry about this, Miss Jones.'

  Delaney glared at him. 'With respect, sir. I am conducting an interview here.'

  'No you're not, Delaney. Your interview is over.'

  Melanie Jones brought the full force of her professional smile to bear. 'It's quite all right, Superintendent. The detective inspector and I were discussing the case.'

  'It's not all right, Miss Jones. I will not have members of the press treated in such a cavalier fashion in my station. Your cameraman has told me how you were manhandled, Miss Jones.'

  'A small misunderstanding.'

  Delaney held his boss's gaze. 'No misunderstanding on my part, sir. I don't care if she's press, public or a member of the royal frigging family, she has information on an ongoing murder case then she gets treated just the same by me.'

  Napier goggled at him. 'Have you listened to a word I have said, Inspector?'

  Delaney smiled sardonically at Melanie Jones. 'I'm just doing my job, sir.'

  'Wait outside, Delaney. I'll speak to you later.'

  Delaney nodded pointedly at the reporter then walked out, closing the door loudly behind him, and took a moment to compose himself. He'd have liked to have gone back inside and slapped his boss but he knew what the consequences would be, and although in times recently past he wouldn't have much cared, right now he needed his badge and the authority it brought. He still had personal matters to take care of and his warrant card was going to help do just that.

  He walked through to public reception area where the long-haired cameraman was watching him with a smug and amused expression on his face as he lounged against the counter. 'Your boss had a word with you, did he?'

  Delaney walked up to him, the smile on his lips far from friendly. He grasped the camera out of his hands, slid the broadcast-quality Betacam tape out of it and put it in his jacket pocket.

  The cameraman was outraged. 'You can't do that!'

  Delaney ignored him and nodded at Dave. 'Napier will probably be looking for me in a minute.'

  'Want me to tell him where you'll be?'

  'Tell him I got called away. Urgent business.'

  Dave smiled knowingly. 'Have one on me.'

  Delaney cocked his finger at him, pulled an imaginary trigger and headed towards the entrance.

  The cameraman called after him. 'Oi!'

  Delaney ignored him, walking outside and closing the door behind him, silencing the cameraman's outraged protests.

  He looked up at the sky and thought about what Melanie Jones had told him. The moon was low in the sky, leaking a sulphurous light over the dark car park; a few clouds scudded over it as he watched, throwing a shadow over his face, but his eyes still glittered.

  Derek Watters had been a prison officer for twenty-two years and married for twenty-three. He had left school at the age of sixteen and worked in a number of different jobs over the next year or so, never really settling into any of them. But after walking into a recruiting office, he had decided that when he turned eighteen he was going to join the army. His mates threw him a big party at the local pub, the Roebuck, to celebrate his eighteenth and give him a bit of a send-off before he took the Queen's shilling. Derek's mates had all had a whip-round and organised for a strippergram as well. A girl whose real name was Audrey but was calling herself for the purposes of erotic entertainment Sergeant Sally Strict. She was nineteen, dressed in a policewoman's outfit and had breasts like coconuts, the young Derek Watters had thought. Heavy, full, magnificent. Exotic fruit indeed.

  Derek had always been more of a headlamps than a bumper man, still was. And Audrey's headlamps on that night dazzled him. Literally. She'd made him walk around the pub on all fours barking like a dog and then given him eighteen lashes with a soft suede whip. One for each of his years. Then given him his birthday treat. She hadn't done a full strip, she was just a fun telegram girl she'd said. But she had gone topless and let him cradle his face in her ample bosom. It was the best night of Derek's life thus far.

  It turned out that Audrey was a student, training as a nursery nurse. The strippergram work was just to help pay for her fees. Derek had taken her card and a couple of days later he'd finally sobered up and found the courage to call her up and ask her out on a date. To his delight she had said yes. And on the third date she'd taken him home to her digs at college. Donned the policewoman's uniform once again and then took it off for an audience of just one. Took it off very slowly. All of it this time. And if Derek had been happy before he was fit to burst now.