to come straight to the point whenever they discussed a case.
‘Yes, still here. What can I do for you?’
‘I’ve got authorisation to have you on a case,’ came the reply. ‘So it’s official, this time.’ Lorimer hesitated, knowing as he spoke that Solly would be aware of every nuance of his speech, every tiny space between his words. ‘It’s the murder of four known Glasgow prostitutes. That’s how the press will see it. I’d rather think of it as the brutal murder of four vulnerable young women.
‘It’s looking a bit complex,’ Lorimer went on in a lighter voice, ‘so you’re bound to like it.’
Solly nodded, responding to the seriousness of his friend’s tone. He could imagine the tense expression upon the policeman’s face as he spoke.
‘Well, as it happens I’m finished with classes for today so … ’
‘Good. See you here in half an hour?’
Solly put down the phone, shaking his head slightly. So much for his plans for spending time reading this afternoon, he thought with a sigh. Yet as he packed some papers into his satchel there was a gleam in his dark eyes. A new case with Lorimer: the first since his appointment to the Serious Crimes Squad. Solly locked the door behind him and hurried down the stairs, his mind already on what lay ahead. A bit complex, Lorimer had said. Well, that remained to be seen.
Helen James opened her eyes and blinked. It was all over then, she thought. A collage of images filled her mind: the siren sound of the ambulance, the overhead lights in the corridor as she was wheeled into the operating theatre and the man in the blue mask and matching cap who had assured her that everything was going to be fine…
It was strange how relaxed she felt now after a night of unbroken sleep. Her lips moved towards the semblance of a smile as she caught sight of the drip, felt the drain in her right arm. Well, maybe not that strange after all if they were pumping some nice drugs into her. She sighed but it was not a troubled sigh, more an exhalation of all the worries and troubles that had dogged her for the past months. There was nothing she could do about any of it and the knowledge that someone else must be taking over from her was surprisingly good.
Closing her eyes once more, Helen slipped into a dreamless sleep, happily unaware of the latest in the series of murders that had taken place on her patch.
Outside the hospital room the uniformed police officer glanced at her watch, checking it for the umpteenth time against the clock on the wall above the nurses’ station. It was funny to be here, PC Patricia Fairbairn thought to herself. The word was that Serious Crimes was supposed to be taking over and she might have been seconded to Pitt Street as part of the team, yet here she was, waiting for her DCI to waken so she could bring her up to speed with this horrible prostitute killing. Sighing heavily, Patricia stepped across to the glass door, peering in at the figure lying on the bed. No, she didn’t seem to be awake yet. She bit her lip. Over and over Patricia had rehearsed the words she would say when her boss was finally awake. If only she would open her eyes so she could get it over with.
Hearing her stomach suddenly rumble, the police constable decided that a visit to the canteen downstairs was in order. With one final glance at the woman who appeared to be sleeping peacefully, Patricia slipped off down the corridor, her thoughts already on a cup of black coffee and whatever calorie laden stuff the hospital canteen might provide.
‘You’re awake, ma’am,’ Patricia said, putting her fingers to her mouth, nervously wiping away any traces of her latest snack.
‘So it would appear, Fairbairn,’ Helen James said dryly, eyeing the rookie cop who had been landed in her division so recently. ‘Nice of you to visit, but perhaps you’d care to tell me why you’re here.’
‘It’s not good news, ma’am,’ Patricia said, all her carefully rehearsed speech flying out of the window as she looked down on her boss’s pale face. ‘There’s been another prostitute killing. Just last night. I … I was one of the officers on duty who found the body,’ she continued, tightening her lips to keep them from betraying her inner trembling.
Helen’s fingers gripped the bedclothes and a sharp crease