Free Spanish Inquisition by Elizabeth Darrell Page B

favour?’
    â€˜In detectivespeak it’s known as furthering our inquiries. At the end of the week George can have ’em back.’ Max smiled at the immaculately uniformed sergeant. ‘Call in your two. We’ll send Connie Bush as soon as she reports in.’
    George smiled back. ‘Right, sir.’
    â€˜Email all data across to our headquarters. We’ll take it from there.’
    Once outside the Police Post Max challenged Tom. ‘You’re not happy with this?’
    â€˜It’s not our territory.’
    â€˜I know, but we’re straying into it because of the photograph of a woman who’s laid false charges against one of ours . . . and because George has a lot on his plate with too few to handle it. I’m sure Connie will glean useful info for the Norton case.’ He began walking to his car. ‘Let’s read the emails and chew it over some more with a mug of coffee in our hands.’
    Tom caught up with him, demanding to know if he was officially resuming command.
    Max faced his friend squarely. ‘I can’t sit around twiddling my thumbs for the next two weeks waiting to be told I’m fit to return to duty. I know I am. That photograph has put a new slant on the case; given us something to work on. I have a gut feeling there’s a lot more to discover about Maria Norton, alias Carmen. I can’t wait to begin removing the layers to reveal the real woman.’
    â€˜Has Captain Goodey given you the go ahead?’ As Max hesitated, Tom said, ‘You’ll be for the high jump when our revered Regional Commander hears what you’re doing.’
    â€˜Let’s hope he doesn’t.’ Max knew very well the basis of Tom’s concern. ‘Look, you’re officially in command, and paid as such, until I’m medically cleared and reinstated. I’m merely showing an interest in the outcome of something affecting a member of the team I shall resume responsibility for in a fortnight’s time. That’s understandable enough, even for Keith Pinkney, surely.’
    Partially reassured, Tom gave a faint grin. ‘If he turns up I’ll claim you pulled rank and ignored my protests.’
    Max smiled back. ‘He’ll definitely understand that.’
    Although it was still early, everyone was present busily engaged in writing up reports when they entered. Once coffee mugs had been filled, Tom began the briefing.
    â€˜Connie, you’re to take over a task from Babs Turvey. Three of our personnel were involved in that massive RTA last night. They’re at a private clinic in the vicinity of Grünwald, and one has in his wallet a photo of himself and Maria Norton in a romantic pose. We need background on that once the medics allow him to be questioned. George Maddox is emailing details across to us so, soon as we’ve heard your report, read them up and get over to the clinic. Staff Sergeant Andrews knows a lot we’re anxious to share with him.’
    â€˜Right, sir,’ said Connie, her usual sparklingly healthy appearance enhanced by a whirlwind romance with a bomb disposal sergeant encountered during their last case; a man whose commander blew himself and Max up last November.
    â€˜His injuries aren’t life-threatening,’ Tom continued, ‘but he’s being kept sedated to counteract trauma. You know the form. Work your magic on that man at the first opportunity. Now, give us your info on the search of Norton’s car.’
    â€˜Nothing useful, I’m afraid. The guys in the car pool stripped it down with the utmost zeal, but only found the usual stuff that’s in a vehicle used as a convenience, not a prized possession. Old parking tickets, chocolate wrappers, shopping lists between the cushions. The glove compartment held the operating manual, a small torch, a bag of cosmetics, another containing a spare pair of knickers and several tampons, a handbag aerosol of Hot Passion