It had also made her realize that the ways people could find to hurt were endlessly imaginative.
She decided to change the subject before she got caught in a lot of very dark thoughts. “So. Give me a cheat sheet. How do I impress the chief?”
“It’s basically to do with playing to your abilities,” Lightman said. “He’s all about the psychology of teams, and he wants the team to be self-supporting. He knows where his weaknesses are, and he uses us to make up for them.”
“So…you’re more thorough than he is?”
“I’ve got a better memory,” Lightman corrected her, “and I’m more accurate. But he’s a lot smarter.” He gave a small smile.
“What about Domnall?” she asked quietly.
“He’s good at easing information out of suspects, and he’s quick-thinking and intuitive. He can do leaps of intellect and act quickly, which the DCI finds difficult until he’s built up to it. The chief takes what I’d call a holistic approach, which slows him down.”
That made Hanson wonder what she could bring to the table. She was smart and keen-eyed. Those had always been features her colleagues had picked up on. Even the inspector she’d worked for previously, who’d generally filled her reviews with comments on her “good communication” and “support of the team,” and thought she’d like them.
“Here,” O’Malley said, stepping up to her and handing her two pints of Staropramen and returning to the bar.
He came back with a tall glass full of clear sparkling liquid and a slice of lime. So he’d ignored the beer, and gone for gin and tonic. Which she knew was a good way of hiding a love of liquor. Everyone else could drink pints while he sank triples.
“So,” she said, as O’Malley settled himself onto a stool that made his big frame look a little comical. “What have you been doing with yourself?”
“I’ve been talking to a few dealers. Trying to find out if anyone offloaded a lot of Dexedrine after Aurora’s death. I mean, I hardly think they’d dig it up and hang on to it, would they?”
“Any luck?”
“There’s potentially something interesting. I mean, it’s not like they keep records, so it’s hard to check, but one of them said that the market got flooded a year or so later, and it drove the price down, but unfortunately he didn’t buy, so he doesn’t know where the hell it came from.”
“Would fifteen kilos be enough to flood the market?” Hanson asked.
“Yeah, if someone offloaded a lot at once to other small-time dealers.”
“Were there any other sales they remember?” she asked.
“Not a lot. One of them remembers a small deal with a girl he’d never met before, but we’re talking five or ten grams, and he’s not sure if it was earlier. Another one reckoned he had a few deals with some guy he’d only met a few times, but much, much smaller amounts again. He didn’t think they’d have added up to that much.” He drank his drink off in one solid go, and then said, “Jesus, I’m dry. Too much talking. Anyone need a top-up?”
Hanson was acutely aware that she’d barely started her lager, and shook her head. She drank a quick couple of mouthfuls.
“Let me get it,” she said, but he was already on his feet.
“No, you’re all right.”
“Is he going to think I’m useless if I can’t keep up?” she asked Lightman quietly, as O’Malley returned to the bar.
“Domnall?” Lightman replied, and shook his head. “You don’t have to worry about impressing him. He doesn’t drink. It’s tonic water.”
“Do we have any early wagers on the killer?” O’Malley called from the bar. It made Hanson wince slightly, but the bartender didn’t seem to care.
“I might want to spread my bet,” Lightman replied. “I’d go evenly between the four males.”
“That’s no way to gamble,” O’Malley said. “Have some balls and back your instincts.”
He paid up, and hefted the drinks in a triangle.
“What about you, Juliette?” asked O’Malley.
“Ah, I don’t know. I’d want to know more.”
Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out to check it. She felt an unpleasant twist as she saw that it was from Damian again.
She hated the effect it had on her, his name on a message. Every time she thought she’d closed things down, another message arrived.
She could see the first line of the message in the preview on her home screen. It began with, “I’m sorry…” but she’d had messages like that before. She’d also had a lot that raged at her. That told