Free We Are Death by Douglas Lindsay Page A

between the women again, then opened the door behind him.
    ‘I should be getting on. Come through and see me when you’re finished here,’ he said to the Swiss DI. She acknowledged him with a slight movement of the head.
    Jericho was gone, the door closed behind him.

14
    ––––––––
    J ericho was back at the site of the murder for the first time since the previous morning. There was only one officer on guard now, although the road had not yet been opened back up to the public.
    The murder site was taped off. The steady stream of onlookers, which had grown immediately after the restrictions had been lifted, had dwindled again late at night and would be unlikely to get going again that morning. Life was back to normal. Any new murder tourists were probably travelling from a distance, and would be low in number.
    Badstuber had wandered away from the markings that indicated Carter’s final resting place. She was standing in the middle of the road, staring off across the low-lying land to the hills a couple of miles away. Occasionally she would lift her head, as if smelling the air.
    Jericho watched her for a while, then wandered over. They hadn’t spoken much. She had read the reports, and she wanted to see the scene of the crime. She seemed to think – as Jericho would have done under similar circumstances – that it was too early for words.
    ‘Seen enough?’ he asked.
    Badstuber turned.
    ‘I think so. I could have left a while ago, but I like it here.’
    She glanced back round at the spot where Carter had been shot.
    ‘A good place to die.’
    Jericho wasn’t sure how to take that, so he nodded slightly, following her gaze.
    ‘Connolly,’ she continued, ‘he also died in a nice spot. Our killer picks his locations. Of course, more likely it’s all about timing, and the attractiveness of the surroundings is incidental.’
    Jericho found himself smiling. She had a nice mouth. If nothing else, he thought, he could enjoy watching her lips while she talked. And the thought had him shaking his head.
    ‘Don’t be getting any ideas, Chief Inspector.’
    He asked the question with a raised eyebrow.
    ‘I know your reputation, there was quite enough written about you in the newspapers this year.’
    ‘You believe everything you read in the papers?’ he asked.
    ‘Perhaps you’re right. Particularly not your newspapers. Even so, you did admit, did you not, to sexual relations with your colleague on what became the Durrant case?’
    Jericho held her gaze for a moment, then lowered his eyes. He surprised himself by having to stop a smile crossing his face. She was so much more direct than the stuffy panel of suits who’d interrogated him two days earlier.
    ‘So,’ she continued, as she had also learned of Jericho’s legendary taciturnity – although that was less in evidence in these dying days of his career – ‘you should know that I’m happily married and have three children under the age of ten. There will be nothing between us.’
    He looked at her again. This time he did smile.
    ‘Quite a relief,’ he said. ‘Anything else?’
    ‘I find you unattractive. I am unsure how you have managed to charm so many women.’
    Jericho let his eyes drift off to the side, a rueful look. He didn’t think he wanted her saying anything else.
    ‘Although you’re not as rude as everyone said you’d be.’
    ‘Are we done here?’ he asked.
    She seemed to be surprised that he’d cut her off in the middle of her psychological assessment, then she shrugged and said, ‘Yes, of course. I said I was done.’
    *
    T he body was laid out in traditional fashion. The head, which had been split apart by the bullet, had now been deconstructed further.
    Trueblood was still at work. Jericho and Badstuber stood on the other side of the table, watching. There had been little conversation. Trueblood appeared to be humming Chim Chim Cher-ee . Jericho, as ever, found himself fascinated. He enjoyed the slow movements of