Page 17 of Pop Goes the Weasel


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“See if you can get a picture of Christopher Reid that we can compare with our victim. If this is Christopher, we need to tell his family before the press do it for us.”

Sanderson hurried off to do Helen’s bidding. Helen’s gaze flitted beyond her to the police tape fluttering in the breeze. As yet they had avoided detection, the scene undisturbed by press. Helen was surprised, particularly by the absence of Emilia Garanita. She seemed to have half the uniformed officers in her pocket and was always excited by a juicy murder. But not in this case. Helen afforded herself a small smile—Emilia must be losing her touch.

24

“I had my head ripped off the last time I was in here.”

Emilia Garanita leaned back in her chair, enjoying the rare luxury of being in the nerve center of Southampton Central. It wasn’t often you were personally summoned to the detective superintendent’s office.

“I don’t think I was Detective Superintendent Whittaker’s favorite person. Howishe doing these days?” she continued, failing to hide the gleeful malice that lay behind her inquiry.

“You’ll find I’m a rather different character,” Ceri Harwood responded. “In fact that’s why I asked you to come here.”

“A girl-to-girl chat?”

“I wanted to put things on a different footing. I know in the past the relationship between the press and some of my officers has been combustible. And that you have often felt cut out of things. That doesn’t help anyone, so I wanted to tell you face-to-face that things will be different now. We can help each other to help ourselves.”

Emilia said nothing, trying to work out if she was for real. New bosses always said this when they arrived, then got on with the job of frustrating the local press at every turn.

“How different?” she demanded.

“I want to keep you informed of major developments and harness your reach to help us further our investigations. Starting with the Empress Road murder.”

Emilia raised an eyebrow—so this wasn’t going to be hot air after all.

“I’ll have a name for you soon. And you will be given all pertinent details of the crime. Plus we are setting up a dedicated help line, which I would like you to major on in your next edition. It’s imperative that we get any potential witnesses to come forward as soon as possible.”

“What’s so special about this murder?”

Harwood paused a moment before answering.

“It was a particularly brutal killing. The person who did this is highly dangerous, possibly with mental health problems. As yet we don’t have a physical description, which is why we need your eyes and ears. It could make all the difference, Emilia.”

Harwood smiled as she said her name, appearing every inch the confidential friend.

“Have you spoken to DI Grace about this?” Emilia countered.

“DI Grace is on board. She knows we’re running a different ship now.”

“No more diversions? No more lies?”

“Absolutely not,” Harwood replied, her broad smile breaking out once again. “I’ve got a feeling you and I can do business together, Emilia. I do hope I won’t be disappointed.”

The meeting was over. Emilia rose without having to be asked, impressed by what she’d seen. Harwood was a smart operator and seemed to have Grace’s measure. It felt like a sea change and perhaps it was.

Emilia had the distinct impression that she was going to have fun with this one.

25

“So, what are we looking at?”

DC Fortune yawned as he spoke, the noise echoing round the Major Investigative Team office. He and Charlie were an island in the empty room, two lonely figures surrounded by a mass of papers.

“Well, Brookmire Health and Wellbeing Center is obviously a knocking shop, but it’s a classy one,” Charlie replied. “I’ve never seen one that’s so well run and discreet before. It has a roster of attractive, experienced girls, all of whom are regularly health-checked. You can book an appointment online and they already have some sort of link-up with the cruise companies. They send shuttle busses down there to pick up clients the minute the boats come in. They describe the services they offer as holistic health services, but here’s the real beauty: if you pay with a credit card, it appears on your statement as stationery. So the wife will never find out, and even better, you can put it through on expenses. You don’t even have to pay for the girls yourself.”

“And you found all this out from one interview?” replied Fortune, impressed in spite of himself.

“If you know the questions to ask, people can be surprisingly helpful.”