Free Beside a Narrow Stream by Faith Martin

to be supervised all the time. Someone competent and able, who didn’t give her any grief or back chat.
    Janine Tyler, her last DS, had upped and married Mel Mallow, had taken orders with reluctant grace, and was so ambitious she needed to be checked constantly.
    Gemma Fordham’s cool, self-assured nature could only be an asset.
    And as soon as her back was turned, Hillary was damned well going to find out what was in that file she’d been reading and had oh-so-casually put back in her bag.
     
    Frank Ross turned up a few minutes after Keith Barrington, smelling faintly of stale beer and cigarettes. Whereas Barrington had been to an autopsy, Frank had no excuse for rolling in two hours before lunchtime. But Hillary merely gave him a sour look, and gathered her team together for a confab.
    ‘Right, Keith, you can kick off.’
    They listened to the pertinent titbits provided by the pathologist , all of them relieved by the potential of the DNA evidence.
    ‘Sounds like it’s a straightforward case of cherchez la femme to me,’ Frank said, strangling the French, and picking his teeth with a paper clip. ‘From what they were telling me at his local boozer, our Wayne was a randy git, who specialized in middle-aged crumpet. The doc said the brown hair was dyed, so we’re probably looking at a fifty- or sixty-something old gal who didn’t like to share the young meat around.’
    ‘Very elegantly put, Frank,’ Hillary said dryly. But he had a point. ‘Any thoughts about the red paper heart anybody?’
    ‘Just goes to prove my point,’ Frank said, before the others could open their mouths. ‘Typical over-the-top gesture. I dare say the poor old dear who bumped him off was having trouble with her hormone replacement therapy or something. A redpaper heart is just the sort of soppy, goofy thing that would appeal to a randy tart with no sense. Probably thinks she’s committed some grand crime of passion. Silly cow.’
    Hillary let him run down, then glanced at Gemma. ‘I don’t like that heart. I didn’t like when I first saw it, and I don’t like it now.’
    Gemma Fordham nodded. Her short spiky blonde head bobbed forward as she selected a slim folder from the stack in her On-Going tray. ‘I did some research on serial killers who leave a “signature”, guv. Thought it might prove useful.’
    She handed it over, and Hillary glanced at it briefly. ‘I’ll be sure to read it later. But I’ve been wondering since, whether the heart wasn’t so much a calling card, as a bit of misdirection. I mean, here we have Wayne Sutton, a bit of a Casanova, and more likely than not, a straight out-and-out gigolo. And when he dies, someone leaves a red paper heart on his chest.’
    Gemma’s grey eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Too much icing on the cake, you think?’ she asked sharply. ‘Yes, possibly. If someone wanted to lead us up the garden path, that’s the obvious direction to take us.’
    ‘What, you think it’s got nothing to do with his private life?’ Keith asked, catching on.
    Frank Ross grunted. Typical. Shoot down his suggestion without even bothering to give it a proper airing. He didn’t know why he kept on doing this job.
    ‘It’s only a thought,’ Hillary said sharply. ‘So don’t let’s get too hung up on it. Chances are, Frank’s spot on. If it waddles like a duck, swims like a duck, and is always quacking, it probably is a duck. Wayne Sutton may well have been killed by one of the women in his life….’
    ‘Or one of their hubbies who didn’t like being made a fool of,’ Frank Ross butted in.
    ‘… So let’s concentrate on them first,’ Hillary carried on. ‘I want a list of all the women who might have had an interest in him….’
    ‘’Course, it needn’t be an actual husband,’ Frank Ross said. ‘Could be an ex-husband, who doesn’t like the fact that his big fat alimony cheques are being spent on a poncy lothario.’
    ‘… And find out how many of them have solid alibis,’