‘Chris Pettifer doesn’t look too busy.’
I didn’t want her to get someone else to take over – it was my case after all – but I knew that it was pointless to protest when DCI Burt had made up her mind. I made my face blank and nodded when Burt told me to brief Pettifer on the case before I went home.
‘You can take the files on the Stone case. Get your head around it before tomorrow.’
Or I could sleep, I thought, since I hadn’t for twenty-four hours. I could have a long bath and a decent meal and sleep.
‘Fine,’ I said.
Derwent stood up and stretched. ‘That’s useful. You do the reading, Kerrigan, and you can give me the highlights tomorrow.’
‘Why can’t you read up on it yourself?’ The question slipped out before I thought about whether it was appropriate for me, a detective sergeant, to ask a detective inspector why he wasn’t doing his job.
‘I’m busy,’ Derwent said coldly.
‘Right,’ I said under my breath, and bent down to pick up the box at my feet. Godley opened the door for me. Because I was tired and not really paying attention I started to move towards it at the precise moment when Derwent was walking past, and collided with him. I stepped back, horrified. He looked down at his shirtfront where a long black streak of mud had suddenly appeared on the immaculate white cotton.
‘Kerrigan.’
‘It was an accident,’ I said quickly.
He gave me the kind of look that he usually reserved for child-killers at the very least, and for a beat I held my breath. Then he lifted the box out of my hands as if it weighed nothing and walked away.
‘I can manage,’ I said to his retreating back, futilely.
‘Thank you, Maeve,’ Una Burt said from behind her desk, and I remembered where I was, and left her to her discussions with Godley and the pathologist.
Derwent was always a fast mover. By the time I made it out of Una Burt’s office, he was already on the other side of the room, well out of reach. He set the box down beside Pettifer’s desk with a remark that made the big DS throw his head back and laugh. I started towards them – it was still my case to hand over, I thought with a shiver of irritation – and checked myself as Georgia stepped into my path. She had found a hairbrush and cleaned herself up a bit. She’d managed to find the time to reapply her mascara, I noted.
‘What was that about?’ She nodded towards the office behind me. ‘Is that Superintendent Godley?’
‘Yeah.’ Of course Georgia would have spotted him. She had an extraordinary instinct for career advancement.
‘What’s he doing here?’
‘He had a job for me.’
‘Can I help?’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘You don’t even know what it is.’
‘So?’ Georgia’s blue eyes were unblinking. I could see it from her point of view: a chance to impress the boss before he came back to the team. Get a head start. Make progress.
‘I’m not in charge of this one.’
‘Who is? DI Derwent?’ She swung round, looking for him.
‘You’re going to be working with Pettifer on the Clarke case,’ I said firmly. ‘Once that’s out of the way, we might be able to use you. But at the moment—’
She pulled a face, obviously annoyed. ‘Pettifer can finish the Clarke case on his own.’
‘He could, but he isn’t going to.’ I stared her down for a long moment, daring her to take it further, and in the end she broke first.
‘So what’s the case?’
‘Reinvestigating—’ I broke off to cough. ‘Reinvestigating the Leo Stone case.’
‘The White Knight? Wow. I would love to work on that.’
‘Noted.’ There was nothing to encourage her in my tone of voice.
‘Why did Superintendent Godley want you to work on it?’ Her eyes were narrow.
Derwent leaned in between us. ‘Because he has a soft spot for Kerrigan.’ Georgia laughed.
‘Because he thinks I’ll do a good job,’ I said stiffly.
‘Of course you will.’ Derwent patted my arm.
Instead of arguing the point I walked away from both of them to talk to Pettifer myself. Georgia could try to convince Derwent to let her work on it too. If he wanted her, he’d include her in spite of my objections. If he didn’t want her help, nothing I could say would persuade him. Either way, I didn’t need to hang around.
He caught up with me in the kitchen where I was waiting for the kettle to boil.
‘What’s up with you?’
‘Nothing.’ I coughed again. Shit, I didn’t want to be ill. ‘I’m tired. I’m cold. I want to go home.’
‘My home.’
‘I’m renting it. That means it’s my home. Temporarily, anyway.’ I still wasn’t used to living in a space that I associated so completely with Derwent. For instance, I’d discovered there was no bleach strong enough to take away the mental image of him lounging in the bath.
‘As long as you’re looking after it.’
‘Yeah, I don’t want to piss off the landlord.’
‘Oh, you’ve done that already. Look at me.’
I did, reluctantly. He was holding the sides of his jacket open so I could see the muddy mark that ran across his chest. Not just the shirt: the tie too. ‘I said I was sorry.’
‘No, you said it was an accident.’
‘Well, it was.’ I took a deep breath. ‘But I’m sorry.’
‘Finally. You’re forgetting your manners.’
‘Speaking of which, I could manage the box by myself. You didn’t even ask before you took it.’
His eyebrows went up. ‘Don’t try to pretend that’s why you’re in a mood.’
‘I’m not in a mood.’ I turned and leaned against the kitchen counter, gripping it for courage. ‘I am very annoyed that you decided to stir up trouble by hinting that Godley wanted me to work on this case for any other reason than that he thinks I’m a good detective. You of all people know how unfair it is to suggest he puts professional opportunities my way for personal reasons.’
Derwent
