Blindside - By Gj Moffat Page 0,21

at the clock on his desk. ‘It’s after one. But that doesn’t matter, I was working anyway. Have you spoken any more to the police or anyone else?’

‘No. There’s no reason to, is there? Tim’s dead. That’s what you told me.’

‘But don’t you want to know why, or what he was doing on that plane?’

‘I thought I did. But I’m not so sure any more. What good would it do? I mean, what if I find out he was mixed up in something … bad? Then what?’

‘That won’t happen. I know Tim.’

‘Maybe nobody really knew him.’

‘Melanie …’

‘Bye, Alex.’

He sat at his desk, clenching and unclenching his fists, wanting to hit something. He’d known too many people who had died. And he couldn’t shake the anger he felt about this. About what they were doing to the memory of a good man. And his family.

He didn’t like not knowing. Hated being lied to and bullied, which was how he felt now after the call from Boston. It wasn’t just Melanie Stark’s problem now. It was his.

And maybe he would make it someone else’s problem.

6

Tuesday

Irvine went to Liam Moore’s room and knocked on his open door. He beckoned her in with a wave of his hand, not looking away from his computer screen. She sat and waited while he typed something on his keyboard. Irvine had not yet worked out if Moore was always in the middle of something when she wanted to speak to him or if he pretended to be so that he could make her wait. Maybe he was checking his Twitter account.

‘How did it go yesterday with the SCDEA thing?’ he asked eventually, pushing the keyboard forward and resting his arms on the desk.

‘It was a long day.’

‘Anything you need from me?’

‘No. It’s too early to really know where the investigation is going.’

He watched her silently.

‘They’re retaining overall control of the investigation, right? I mean, the SCDEA.’

‘Yes. They’re happy for me to lead on the latest victim. The girl.’

‘Territorial boundaries and all that. Plus, they think they’re better than regular cops. Hand-picked, you know?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I appreciate that boundaries are not your strong point, Becky.’

She smiled. He did not.

‘Try to play nice, okay? Stay out of trouble.’

‘Sure.’ She frowned. ‘Of course I will.’

Armstrong had changed and washed his hair but the stubble was still in place, grown heavier overnight. It looked like he didn’t need much time for a full growth to develop.

‘You going for a beard?’ she asked.

He rubbed at his chin.

‘If it was good enough for Serpico …’

‘So what’s the plan for this morning?’ she asked.

‘Chase up the lab results,’ he said. ‘Talk to the uniforms. See what shakes loose.’

‘See what shakes loose?’ She squinted at him. ‘Kenny Armstrong, LAPD.’

‘You’re a little weird. And potentially very annoying.’

‘Thanks.’ She beamed at him.

Armstrong took a large bite out of a chocolate muffin. Crumbs stuck in his beard and he wiped them away with his hand.

‘Uniforms are here,’ he told her. ‘They’re downstairs.’

‘When were you going to tell me this?’

‘I just did.’

Irvine called down to the main reception and asked them to direct the officers to her desk. When two men came on to the floor she raised a hand in greeting and they started over.

‘DC Irvine?’ the taller of the two male officers asked.

‘That’s me. And this is DS Armstrong.’

Nods all round. The uniforms took their hats off and set them on the empty desk next to Irvine’s then pulled up two spare chairs to sit down. It looked to Irvine like the taller man was probably in his mid-thirties and the shorter one not yet out of his twenties. They were both lean, with short brown hair.

‘You responded to the call-out yesterday morning, right?’ Armstrong said. ‘The body in the river. Joanna Lewski.’

‘Yes,’ the taller one answered again. ‘She called herself Tanya. For the punters, you know. I guess she thought it was exotic.’

‘And you arrested her before. When was that?’

The taller man lifted a plain file and placed it on the desk in front of Irvine. She hadn’t even noticed he had been carrying it. She opened the file and skimmed the arrest report.

‘Picked her up for soliciting down on Waterloo Street about nine months ago,’ the tall cop went on. ‘She was high as well and had some gear on her. Heroin.’

‘Says here that she got community service.’

‘Six weeks. And she did it, to be fair to her.’

Irvine looked up at the man.

‘How is it that you remember her?’

The man held Irvine’s gaze.

‘She was new. I could