Free Dying of the Light by Gillian Galbraith Page A

commit himself, obviously, but the boss kept on pressurising him, and sometime between about 9.00 p.m. and 11.00 p.m. Tuesday ninth is the best they can do.’
    ‘And no sign, from the swab or anything else, of recent sexual activity?’
    ‘Condoms, dear. One of the tools of her trade, I hear.’
    ‘I was thinking more of the combings and so on. Anything else happen while I’ve been away, sir?’
    He opened his eyes unnaturally wide, and nodded his head vigorously. ‘I thought you’d never ask’, he sighed.
    The usual game to be endured. And the quicker it was begun the quicker it would end.
    ‘Well, I’m asking now, sir.’
    ‘We’ve got a match from a bloodstain, with the DNA, I mean. And the shit may well soon hit the fan so I’d duck if I was –’.
    On Elaine Bell’s unheralded entry into the murder suite he fell silent, watching his superior like everyone else as she patrolled the room, eyes raking the place, clearly in search of something. Approaching Alice’s desk she swept up the blue-and-white-striped mug, breathing a sigh of annoyance as she did so.
    ‘Bloody cleaners! Rearranging everything,’ she said through gritted teeth. Alice smiled an answer, uncomfortably aware that she was now in close proximity to a hornet, its angry buzz warning that it was liable to sting at any moment. Keep still. Say nothing and it will fly past, she thought, trying to maintain her now fixed smile.
    ‘And don’t let it happen again, Alice!’ the Chief Inspector spat.
    Perhaps she should just shake her head in apparent remorse and remain silent, play safe and avoid any more unwelcome attention, thought Alice. On the other hand, she had no idea what it was that she was not to let happen again, so it might. At any moment. Was she an accessory to mug theft, perhaps?
    ‘Or you, Simon!’
    The DCI’s attention, though not her physical presence , had shifted on to her other sergeant. Unfortunatelyfor him, he was not familiar with the finer points of the Elaine Bell’s body language and blundered in, a sweet still in his mouth.
    ‘Sorry, ma’am. I’m not sure what you are t… t… talking about?’ he asked nervously, cheek swollen with his humbug.
    Instantly, she whirled round to face him.
    ‘Contamination, DS Oakley, that’s what I’m talking about. It’s thoroughly unprofessional, I’m sure you’d agree. The single hair from DS Rice was bad enough, but your blood… God save us all! Fortunately, being present when the body was found, seeing the scene myself, I got the lab to check the elimination database and, fortunately once more, you’re both on it, but we would have looked complete arses otherwise!’
    ‘It must have been the b… b… brambles,’ DS Oakley stuttered ‘I was c… c… cut to shreds.’ He looked to Alice for support, and glancing up momentarily at their superior , she nodded her head in agreement.
    ‘Brambles, alopecia… I don’t care what caused it, but it is not, I repeat not, to happen again. Is that understood?’
    The two reprimanded officers nodded again and the Chief Inspector, venom now drawn, bustled out of the room, blue-and-white mug quite forgotten.
    ‘If only you’d listened, Alice…’ Eric Manson said, with phoney regret.
    ‘Was that all? The only traces being mine and Simon’s?’ Best ignore his jibes.
    ‘No, there’s another two, one from blood and the other semen, both less good than those of Simon the Pieman and his dancing bear, but they managed to get a match for one of them at least. The blood. You and I are off to see Mr Francis McPhail of Jerez Street this very evening.They got his DNA in 2005 for drink-driving, and he’s the match.’
    When she did not immediately rise from her chair to follow him, he said, ‘Come on, Bruno. Time to perform!’

    A woman was on her knees scrubbing the stone landing outside McPhail’s flat, her ample rump waggling slowly in the doorway, following the rhythm of her outstretched arms. Her bucket blocked their way