White Corridor

‘Renfield.“ Longbright shuddered.

Sergeant Renfield had no interest in what anyone thought of him, which was just as well, because nobody thought much of him at all. Bitterness is an unattractive trait in a middle-aged man, and his stemmed from the fact that he had been passed over for promotion with such consistency that he could only imagine there was a conspiracy against him. There was not, as it happened; only vague dislike for a misanthropic, charmless desk sergeant who believed in guilt without proof and punishment without conditions. He performed his duties with a certain solid thoroughness, but seemed so lacking in human understanding that it was a mystery why he had decided on a career in the police. Renfield suspected everyone of breaking the law, especially the i

“I wonder what you’re here for, Longbright,” he mused without looking up at her. He had a cold, and was surrounded by wet balls of tissue. “I hear your bosses are stuck in a snowdrift. You lot must be ru

“I was just passing, and thought I’d check on that girl you took around to Mr. Finch on Tuesday morning.” As far as she knew, the unit had successfully hushed up news of Oswald’s demise, but someone was bound to notice that something was wrong when they found the doors to the Bayham Street Morgue locked.

“I thought Finch would be on the blower with some kind of report by now.” Renfield blasted another tissue apart and set it aside. “Poor old sod shouldn’t still be working at his age. He’ll peg out on the job one day, wait and see.”

“He doesn’t have to report to you, Renfield.” Longbright wondered, Has he heard something?

“No, but he never misses a chance to give my lads a hard time. I told him she was just another Camden junkie, but he started arguing with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“He reckoned she didn’t show the classic signs, or fit the mould or something. You know how he goes on, you stop listening after a while. Told us we should have been more thorough. It’s all right for him, with one weirdo to deal with each week; he should try keeping up with our quotas-‘

“I don’t understand,” said Longbright. “Thorough about what?”

“He wanted us to go back to the scene and check for proof of an overdose, but by the time we got there the street cleaners had been along.”

“You didn’t cordon off the site?”

“Don’t you bloody start,” Renfield complained as he miserably dragged another tissue from the box. “We did everything by the book. It’s all laid down in black and white so that my lads don’t have to keep stopping and working things out for themselves.”

That’s exactly the problem, thought Longbright as she left Camden Town Police Station. Good officers were like good doctors, relying on their i

34

“Where on earth is everybody?” Raymond Land asked April when he arrived on Thursday morning. “I thought they were supposed to be working through the night.”

Outside the PCU, the overnight snowfall was turning to tobacco-coloured slush as the temperature rose above zero. Wet boots were lined up by the hall radiator, and Crippen was guiltily wolfing the lardy remains of Bimsley’s breakfast burger because Bryant wasn’t there to feed him.

“They have been working, sir,” said April. “Mr. Banbury and Mr. Kershaw are ru

“Meanwhile, my star detectives are building bloody snowmen somewhere near the English Riviera,” Land snapped.

“What am I supposed to say to the Princess? ”I’m sorry, your Royal Highness, we’re not quite ready for your visit, seeing as one of our best men has been murdered, possibly by another member of staff, and as they’re all under house arrest we haven’t had time to nip out and purchase your bouquet.“ What are you doing?”

“I’m holding the fort,” said April, feeling useless.

“Then you’ll have to meet up with the Princess’s social secretary at noon,” warned Land. “This Armstrong woman wants to go through protocol to make sure everyone knows exactly how to greet Her Magnificence and what to say if she deigns to speak to them. You’ll have to nip up to the Esso garage and buy flowers and refreshments. And get this place looking decent. And hide anything unsavoury from the royal view. You might start with Mr. Bryant’s office.” Here, Land was thinking specifically of the marijuana plant Bryant kept beneath his desk ‘for his rheumatism,“ the reeking Tibetan skull on his shelf, and some of the more outre and explicit books with which he surrounded himself.

“Sir?” April raised a timid hand. “Mr. Bryant asked me to warn you about the petri dishes he keeps in his cupboard. He’s been growing some virulent bacillus cultures, some experiment he’s conducting into plague transmission in the Middle Ages. I accidentally knocked over one of them yesterday. I don’t want to worry you, but do you think it’s wise to expose the Princess to a possibly dangerous virus? Perhaps we should cancel her visit.”

“Don’t try to bamboozle me, girl,” snapped Land. “Bryant’s had those pots and dishes for donkey’s years. He made us all as sick as dogs in ‘85 after using one to serve cocktail sausages in at the Christmas party, but they’re inert now. I even saw Crippen eating from one of them. We have to do something about that cat. He smells quite indescribable when he’s wet. Bryant’s just attempting to get the visit postponed, but it won’t work.”

“There’s another problem,” April blurted. “The network cabling. The carpenters have had to tear the floorboards up, and they can’t guarantee they’ll be able to put everything back in time. Surely you don’t want the Princess falling through our floor.”

“Then I’ll put a rocket up them, you watch,” snapped Land. “They’ll finish the job by lunchtime if I threaten to withdraw their pay.” He stamped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

You can’t say I didn’t try, Uncle Arthur, she thought. Checking her watch, she saw that it was nine-fifteen a.m. They had less than eight hours to solve the mystery of Oswald’s death before Oskar Kasavian presented the unit for public ridicule and closure.