Blue Genes - By Val McDermid Page 0,45
a lesson in cau¬tion from her, I used a paper towel to open cupboard and box and helped myself to a pair of her surgical gloves, then moved across to the door and listened. I couldn't hear a thing.
As quietly as possible, I unlocked the door. I opened it a crack and listened some more. Now I could hear the sorts of noises that an occupied building gives off; distant murmurs of speech, feet moving on stairs and hallways, doors opening and closing. I didn't know how appoint¬ments were spaced at the Compton Clinic, but I reckoned that the best time to avoid coming into contact with too many other people was probably around twenty-five past the hour. I softly closed the door and checked myself over. I'd taken off the ski cap and headlamp, but I still looked a pretty unlikely private patient in my black hockey boots, leggings, and polo neck sweater. Even the fashionable bagginess of Richard's designer label jacket didn't lift the outfit much. If anyone did see me, I'd have to hope they put me down as someone in one of those arty jobs never seen by the general public-radio pro-ducer, publisher's editor, novelist, literary critic.
I watched the second hand sweep around until it was time. Then I inched the door open. The landing was clear. I slipped out and pulled the door closed behind me, holding the handle so the catch wouldn't click into place. I carefully released it and stepped away smartly. The door was going to have to stay unlocked, but with luck, by the time it was discovered, the fault in the burglar alarm would be ancient history. I tripped down the stairs with the easy nonchalance of someone who's just been given some very good news by their gyn. I didn't see another soul. When I reached the foot of the stairs, I sketched a cheery wave at the video camera. Then I was out on the street, happily sucking in the traffic fumes of the city cen¬ter. Free and clear.
I walked up the street to the meter where I'd left the car the night before, expecting to pay the penalty for parking without payment for the first hour of the working day. This close to the traffic wardens' HQ just off Deans-gate, it was practically inevitable. By some accidental mir¬acle that the gods had obviously intended for some other mortal, I hadn't been wheel-clamped. I didn't even have a ticket.
The luck didn't last, of course. The phone was ringing as I got through the door and I made the mistake of answering it rather than letting the machine deal with it. "Your mobile has been switched off since this time yester¬day," Shelley stated without preamble. "I know that," I retorted.
"Have you lost the instruction manual? To turn it on, you depress the button marked 'power.' " "I know that too." "Are you coming in today?"
"I doubt it," I said briskly. "Stuff to do. Clinkers to rid¬dle, pots to side, cases to solve."
"You are still working, then?" For once, Shelley's voice wasn't dripping sarcasm. It almost sounded as if she was concerned about me, but that may have been my overactive imagination.
"I'm working on the gravestone scam, plus I have two other cases that are currently occupying significant amounts of my time," I said, probably more abruptly than I intended.
"What other cases?" Shelley asked accusingly. Back to normal, thank God. Shelley as sergeant-major I could cope with; Shelley as mother hen wasn't part of the deal.
"New cases. I'll let you have the paperwork just as soon as I get to it," I said. "Now I've got to go. There's a librar¬ian out there waiting for me to make her day." I cut the connection before Shelley could say anything more. I knew I was being childish about avoiding Bill, but until I could get my head straight about my future, I couldn't even bear to be in the office where we'd worked together so successfully. I dumped my stale clothes in the laundry basket, left Richard's jacket by the door so I'd remember to take it to be dry-cleaned, and dived into the shower. Needles of water stung my flesh on the borderline of pain, stripping away my world-weariness. By the time I'd finished with the coconut shampoo, the strawberry body wash, and the grapefruit body lotion, I must have smelled like a fruit salad, but at least I'd stopped feeling like chopped liver.
While I was waiting for the