logged on to my computer. Everything was on a go-slow. I could hear the tannoy from the hallway; in a few hours I’d be able to tune it out, concentrate on other things, but for the time being it was insistent.
DC Hollis, if you’re on the station, please contact Custody. That’s DC Hollis, contact Custody thank you…
Penny Butler, Penny Butler, please ring 9151. That’s Penny Butler, 9151. Thank you…
Could the driver of a blue VW Golf parked in the rear car park please move it immediately.
I gave up trying to drive in about a month after I started working at Briarstone. There were only three spaces allocated for the Intel Unit, and in fairness I didn’t need my car during the day as some of the others did. It cost twelve quid a week for the Park and Ride, but at least I didn’t have to fart around moving my car every five minutes because I was blocking someone in.
I always got in at least an hour before everyone else. It gave me a chance to get settled, to do things quickly that needed to be done. A chance to brace myself for another week of it.
There was no telling what order they’d roll in – it depended on traffic, the sort of weekend they’d all had, the weather and, in the case of the uniforms, whether they’d been called out for any reason. But one thing was sure: Kate would always be last, pushing it as far as she could, and when she arrived she would say hello to everyone in the office except for me.
‘Morning, Trigger. Kettle on, is it? Morning, Carol – good weekend? Morning, Jo, Sarah. Where did you get to on Friday? I lost you after the pub! Did you go to Jaxx? What was it like in there?’
Eventually – a good twenty minutes after she’d taken her coat off and hung it on the back of the door – she’d turn the computer on and complain about how bloody slow the system was. And maybe twenty minutes after that, Jo or Amy or Sarah or someone from the office next door would call for her and they’d all go up to the canteen on the top floor for breakfast.
Today, it was Carol.
‘You coming?’ she said.
Kate was already on her feet, purse in hand. ‘Absolutely. I’m chuffing ravenous.’
‘Morning, Annabel,’ Carol said to me, sweetly. ‘Do you want anything bringing back?’
Sometimes they asked me this. They never asked me if I’d like to go with them, of course, because they were afraid I’d say yes and then they’d have to make conversation with me.
‘No, thanks.’
They’d already turned away from the door and the office was blissfully quiet again. If any of them had asked about my weekend, I would have told them. If they’d bothered, they could have heard all about how I found the body next door. I could picture their faces, rapt, over their platefuls of bacon sandwich, toast and cheese scones. For once, they would listen and not interrupt. For once, my news would trump anything they could offer.
But they didn’t ask, and so I kept it to myself.
I’d forgotten to ask Kate to get a pint of milk in the canteen, and there was no way she would think of it herself, so after ten minutes of enjoying the peace in the office I got up, found my purse in my bag, and took the lift up to the top floor.
They were all gathered around a table near the till, heads together. I could hear snatches of the conversation as I found a pint of semi-skimmed in the fridge and checked the sell-by date.
‘You see, I told you, didn’t I?’
‘He’s only just moved out, Kate, he’s not even taken all of his stuff with him yet…’
So, Carol had chucked poor old Rick out of the flat, then. I waited behind two PCs in their full patrol kit: stab vests, Airwave radios bleeping. Behind the counter Lynn was adding a generous glug of vinegar from an industrial-sized plastic bottle to the poached-egg pan. It already had an ugly brownish scum of vinegar and egg-white froth floating on the surface. I looked away.
‘You started talking to the walls yet, then?’ Sarah was asking Carol.
‘Don’t laugh. It is horribly quiet without Sky Sports on every bleeding second of the day though.’
‘You’ll be getting a cat next…’
‘Hey, don’t knock it,’ Kate said. ‘It’s only her cat that stops Annabel from going completely batty, you know.’
‘Don’t be