Free Post Mortem by Kate London Page B

‘Sarah, isn’t it?’
    â€˜That’s right. Can we talk in private?’
    The other two moved away from the desk and exited, stuffing their hands into their pockets. She noticed one of them catching the eye of the sergeant as he left. The door shut behind them.
    â€˜Thanks for the email,’ Hill said. ‘I was her training sergeant. She’s not in any trouble, is she?’ Collins made no reply, happy for him to lead the conversation. ‘I saw it on the news,’ he continued, somehow suggesting by this statement that he already knew as much about the incident as she did. ‘Terrible. A few of the guys here knew Hadley. They say he was a decent cop.’
    He was only marking out his territory – no different from a dog pissing on a post. Nevertheless, fifteen years in the job and Collins still struggled to hide her feelings from such men.
    â€˜Have you any idea yet exactly what happened?’ he asked.
    â€˜We’re still investigating.’
    He looked at her and nodded as though he had anticipated this response. There was a pause. Then he said, ‘I don’t know how I can help you really.’
    â€˜I’m grateful for your time, Alan. I appreciate you’re busy. I won’t be long. I wondered, did Lizzie have any special friends? A boyfriend, perhaps?’
    â€˜Interesting question. Can’t you ask her yourself?’
    She cursed herself for not sending Steve. He would be sitting with one cheek perched on the desk by now, dishonestly hinting that he too had served a couple of years in the army and agreeing that the job wasn’t what it used to be.
    â€˜Alan, I’d really appreciate you helping me out with this.’
    â€˜I’ll get the class list.’
    She watched as he pulled up the list on his terminal. He printed it out and started to underline some of the names. ‘This was her class. She was friends with her, yes . . .’
    He handed the sheet over. Collins was aware that he was studying her as she scanned it. ‘Thanks for that.’ She put the paper in her bag and crossed her arms over her chest. She looked at the sergeant. Well, no harm in trying.
    â€˜Can you tell me anything more about her? I won’t be taping this or recording it in any way. It’s not hard evidence. I just want to get a sense of her. I’m sure you’ll understand that. She was the only other adult on the roof when they fell and I haven’t spoken to her yet.’
    â€˜You haven’t spoken to her yet?’
    â€˜That’s right.’
    He paused.
    â€˜Missing, is she?’
    Collins didn’t answer. Hill smiled, pleased with himself.
    â€˜That must be a right hot potato.’
    Collins nodded.
    The piece of inside information did the trick. Sergeant Hill became much more forthcoming. He warmed to his theme. Idealistic: that was how he described Lizzie Griffiths. He gave an example. The group had spent the afternoon learning how to fill in a report. The afternoon had dragged on in the hot classroom. The sun had poured through the windows. The metal blinds were pulled but many did not shut properly: their slats were bent out of shape. The recruits moved their desks out of the blazing sunlight and took off their cravats and ties. They struggled over the horrid little forms: the small boxes that must all be filled. The lines that must be drawn with a ruler. The liturgy of paperwork. The sheer mindlessness of it, the detail. One of the recruits had made a joke. It was a bit off, no doubt about that, but at the same time . . . He broke off.
    Collins prompted. ‘Yes?’
    â€˜Well . . .’
    She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.
    â€˜So?’
    â€˜So anyway, Lizzie raised her hand and repeated the comment, and made a complaint. Right thing to do, of course. She said she didn’t want her objection to go any further. She just felt that what he’d said wasn’t right