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Gemma said a quick good-bye to Fa
“What? Oh, sorry,” he said distractedly as he unlocked his car and set the collection kit in the passenger seat. “I just got a call from Cullen. Michael Yarwood’s coming into the station to look at the CCTV tape. They’re waiting for me.”
“Did you get anything?” She gestured at the kit.
“Yeah. Quite a bit of hair from the bathtub drain and a few from the bed. And I found some tissues in the bathroom waste bin. Looks like someone had a good cry, and if it wasn’t you or Wi
“I’m going to stop by Guy’s Hospital,” said Gemma, making the decision even as she spoke. “I want to see if I can talk to someone in Elaine’s department.”
Kincaid stared at her, his momentum temporarily halted. “Gemma, it’s not your case.”
“Someone needs to do it. Someone should already have done it.”
He frowned at the implied criticism. “We’ve had other priorities. You know this is a long shot. If you were working the case you’d have a bit more perspective.”
Gemma knew he was probably right, but she didn’t like being dismissed. And besides, she was too curious now to let it go. “Maybe you need someone without perspective, then. And what harm can it do? It’ll save your team a job.”
“All right, go,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “We’ll talk about it when I get home. Then you can tell me how I’m going to clear this with DI Bell.”
“Anyone would think the woman was going to bite your head off,” Gemma retorted.
“Oh, I think she might do much worse than that.” He flashed his familiar grin at her as he folded himself into the little car. “You’d better hope I’m still intact by the time this case is over.”
It was only as he drove away that Gemma realized she was going to miss yet another piano lesson. “Bloody hell,” she swore as she glanced at her watch, wondering if she could go by the hospital and still get back in time to take the boys to Erika’s for tea. She could, she decided, if she didn’t dally.
She rang Wendy, her piano teacher, and made her excuses, then went in search of Wi
Gemma found her in the tiny church office, staring in dismay at the stacks of leaflets covering her desk. “The printer’s made a mistake on the Order of Service,” she explained. “Again. Oh, well, perhaps no one will notice we’re singing a hymn about crossing the barren dessert.”
Gemma laughed. “Maybe they’ll think you’ve run out of buns to serve at coffee hour.” She went on to update Wi
With a sigh, Wi
Gemma perched on the edge of Wi
“She lost touch with her coworkers, obviously. She was hospitalized for months. And I suppose other friends may have drifted away because they didn’t know what to say or do – I suspect that happens more often than we care to think. But I’ve never heard her mention anyone other than Elaine. It’s as if Fa
“Wi
“If you’re implying that two single women living together must be lesbians,” Wi
“And our parents may have been right more often than we credit,” Gemma replied with a quick smile, “because it was socially unacceptable to tell the truth. But that’s less true now, especially as neither Elaine nor Fa
Wi
“I think there was more going on here than Fa
“Gemma, you know I couldn’t pass on anything Fa
“No,” Gemma agreed ruefully, “I suppose not. But you could encourage her to talk to me. That wouldn’t be against regulations.”
Wi
As he drove to Borough station, Kincaid rang his longtime contact in the Home Office lab, Konrad Mueller. Mueller, in spite of his Germanic name, was half Egyptian and, although in his late thirties, still lived the life of a lad in a flat overlooking the Grand Union Canal.
Kincaid had met him in his early days at Scotland Yard, when Mueller had been working as a crime scene tech, and had watched his rise through the forensic science service with interest. He’d kept up the co
He’d made a point, however, of getting Mueller’s home phone number when he discovered they were nearly neighbors, thinking he’d invite him round for drinks some weekend, and now his forethought came in handy.
Rather to his surprise, Mueller picked up right away. When Kincaid explained what he wanted, Mueller gave a gusty sigh audible over the phone.
“You do realize there’s a football match tomorrow, mate?” he asked, sounding aggrieved. “Not to mention the fact that I just met this really hot chick at the supermarket and made a date for tonight.”
The odd contrast between Mueller’s olive skin and the gelled spikes of his bleached-blond hair didn’t seem to deter women. Kincaid had never known him not to have at least two on the string.
“I wouldn’t ask, Ko
After a pause in which Kincaid could hear the insistent thump of techno music in the background, Mueller gave in with another resigned sigh. “All right, mate. I’ll see if I can get to the lab sometime tomorrow. But you owe me big-time for this one.”
“Anything short of providing you with your own personal harem,” Kincaid agreed, ringing off with a grin.
When he reached Borough station, he turned his samples over to Bell’s sergeant, Sarah, with a request to send them directly to Mueller at the lab.