Cut You Dead (Dr. Samantha Willerby Mystery #4) - A J Waines Page 0,4
before adding my signature with a flourish.
We shook hands and without further ado, our discussion was over.
On the way out, a female officer stopped me at the front desk.
‘Dr Willerby, if you wait a moment, I’ll get your access to the system authorised.’ Either word got around like lightning in here or individuals had been primed in advance about my involvement.
I gave her a brittle smile and leant against the counter. She rifled through some documents on her desk and pulled out a plastic wallet.
‘Here you are,’ she said, handing it over. Inside was a special pass with a barcode. ‘The admin office is at the end of this corridor on the right.’ She turned and pointed in that direction. ‘You can only get into the system from there. You won’t be able to from home. And your level won’t allow you to edit any of the files. But you can access all the crime data, such as the methods used, locations, characteristics of the victims, timing, details of the crime scenes and so on.’
I nodded. ‘And these are all cases where a murder has been committed in the past, but no one was ever convicted?’
‘DCS Claussen suggests we stick to cases in London during the last twenty years.’ The officer rolled her eyes. ‘That should be enough to keep you busy.’
‘So, when do I start?’
‘The DCS said Monday, but you can pop in whenever you like,’ she said, as if I was going to be dropping by selling sandwiches. ‘The office is open eight until eight every day – later, if there’s a major case on. Just grab an empty desk and off you go.’
As I left the building, my heart was running wild; thrilled but also a little queasy. My task sounded straightforward, but I wasn’t fooled. It was going to take enormous courage simply to look at the files in the first place, never mind try to figure out why certain victims had been selected or what information the killer might have given away through their particular actions.
Was this really what I wanted?
On the way to the tube, I was trying to figure out if Terry knew I’d been headhunted to work with the Met again. Was he the little bird who had mentioned it?
There was only one way to find out. We needed to have a chat, and sooner rather than later. I was looking forward to it.
4
Terry was at work when I called, so I left a message to say I’d drop round that evening. On my way, I picked up a free newspaper on the underground. As I flicked through, one headline caught my eye:
Woman Falls to Death Taking Selfie
There was a photo of a stunning woman with long flowing blonde hair down to her waist. I read the full story:
A woman died early yesterday afternoon after falling from a balcony on the 19th floor of a London tower block. The deceased, still to be formally identified, was taking a selfie on her mobile phone when she fell. She was pronounced dead at the scene. A police spokesperson said: “There is nothing to suggest at this stage that this was anything other than a tragic accident.” The deceased’s remains were taken to King’s College Hospital for a post-mortem examination.
“Having taken statements from a number of people, initial indications are that the woman was taking a selfie and lost her balance,” the spokesperson added.
Witnesses said taking selfies in dangerous circumstances was the victim’s ‘new hobby’. They also described gusty winds on the balcony that day.
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard about this new trend for taking extreme selfies. I’d seen Instagram shots of people posing from the top of skyscrapers, high bridges and clifftops. Risking life and limb to get that perfect shot. A surge of anger bubbled up inside me. For the sake of a few ‘likes’ on social media. I looked long and hard at the photograph again. The caption stated it had been taken just two weeks earlier. Such a waste.
5
‘It wasn’t me,’ Terry said, as he chuckled witheringly. He held open the door to his ground-floor apartment, a tea towel slung over one shoulder and a teaspoon in his hand. ‘I haven’t said a word to Claussen.’
Aromas of some kind of delicious curry wafted in my direction, making me realise how hungry I was. I sighed. I’d spent the afternoon reading up on grandiose delusions and had forgotten to buy anything for supper. Baked beans on toast again for me.