Post Mortem Read Free Page B

hall. Behind her she could hear the unmistakable sound of the detective constable trying to force his way in. The door was shaking in its frame. He would be in the house within a minute. Quickly she opened the French window and slipped into the garden. The side entrance was protected by a tall fence. The gate at the back led into the park. She unlocked it and pulled the hood of her tracksuit top up. Sunset was beginning to draw in. The fading city sky was streaked with vapour trails and pink clouds. She broke into a run, crossing the darkening park and turning towards the high street.
    Her bank was already closed. She withdrew the maximum amount from the cashpoint. She paused, instinctively looking up and around for CCTV cameras. Then she decided it didn’t matter.
    She turned off the high street and ran about a mile along the back streets, towards the offices under the railway arches.

7
    A fat PCSO pointed Collins in the right direction. Baillie had commandeered an office at Farlow police station, up some stairs and along a corridor. As she struggled through the station with her heavy old laptop and her pile of papers, Collins could feel the local officers’ eyes clocking her lanyard. The door of the office was half-glazed, and before she knocked, she caught sight of the back of Inspector Shaw. He was sitting down, facing away from her towards the desk, where, presumably, Baillie was also sitting, just out of view. She hesitated, then tapped on the door and entered.
    Baillie smiled at her. ‘Sarah.’
    â€˜Boss.’
    Inspector Shaw had stood up, and now he turned and offered Collins his hand. The top button of his shirt was open and his police tie was threaded through the retainer on his shirt. He looked exhausted, but he was a good-looking man, she realized. Tall, athletic. Hair streaked with grey.
    â€˜Sergeant. Collins, isn’t it?’
    She felt the DCI’s eyes on her. ‘Sarah,’ she said, accepting Shaw’s hand.
    â€˜Sarah.’ He paused. ‘Kieran.’ He waved her towards the seat he had been sitting in. ‘No, please, sit. I’m on my way now anyway. I was just updating the boss before I go off duty. Unless you need anything from me?’
    She shook her head. ‘No.’
    He turned to the DCI. ‘With your permission then, sir?’
    â€˜Yes, thanks for your help.’
    Shaw turned to go, then hesitated. ‘Look, Sarah, I’m sorry if we got off to a bad start. I was in shock myself.’
    Collins nodded. ‘Yes, of course you were.’
    â€˜I’ve never lost an officer before.’
    â€˜Really, I understand completely. It’s terrible.’
    There was a pause.
    â€˜Still, no excuse for not being professional. What is it they used to say to us at training school?’ He gave a half-laugh. ‘You only get one chance to make a first impression?’ He smiled complacently at the worn-out cliché. It was a reference to a shared experience – training school, years of policing – an appeal perhaps to Collins’ better nature, but she was not put at her ease by his confidence and the cliché, she realized, cut both ways. She too, of course, had made a first impression, one that she felt sure he hadn’t liked.
    â€˜Yes,’ she said, attempting a smile. ‘That’s right.’
    â€˜You getting all the help you need? My team being cooperative?’
    â€˜Yes, thank you.’
    â€˜I’ll let you get on then, but if you need anything, call me.’
    â€˜Yes, I will. Thank you.’
    Collins’ eyes flickered involuntarily towards the DCI. He caught her glance and held it as the door closed behind Kieran Shaw.
    â€˜Not like him much?’ Baillie said.
    Collins shrugged. ‘No opinion. Don’t know the man yet, sir.’
    It took them a moment to get the laptop plugged in and up and running. The password was the usual struggle, but eventually the media programme opened.