it.’
He shook his head. Her instincts were usually spot on. ‘I doubt it. Let’s get him in. Make it formal and turn up the temperature.’
‘He sees himself as a tough guy, real hardboiled on the surface. Maybe he thought, because I’m a woman, he could pull the wool over my eyes. I just don’t see why, if he loved Gemma, he would want to protect someone who had harmed her.’ She gave a weary sigh and stood up. ‘Another pint?’
Tartaglia shook his head and watched her move towards the bar. Kramer wouldn’t have been the first to underestimate her. Her physical size and looks gave a misleading impression of innocence and fragility. But what was she to do? High heels and red lipstick were hardly the answer. He respected her for getting on with things as if none of it mattered, even though he knew she found it irritating at times. Apart from what had happened with Kramer, she seemed a little on edge, although he couldn’t pinpoint why. He wondered if she had picked up the vibes between him and Blake earlier on. The last thing he needed was to be the centre of office gossip, particularly when there was nothing going on anyway. At least Donovan wasn’t one to gossip, unlike some. He knew little about her personal life other than that there’d been some man called Richard around for a while. But she had stopped mentioning him and Tartaglia hadn’t wanted to appear nosey by asking. Perhaps giving up smoking was making her feel on edge.
Donovan returned after a moment and sat down, a glass with ice and lemon and a slimline tonic in her hand. ‘Thought I’d better go for something soft. Otherwise I’ll be under the table, given the little I’ve had to eat today.’ She poured the tonic into the glass and took a large gulp.
‘What’s bothering you?’
She smiled. ‘According to Kramer, Gemma had no private life. He said she wasn’t interested in boys. I got the impression he really believed what he was telling me, that he wasn’t spinning me a yarn.’
‘Your point is?’
‘I was just thinking back to what Mrs Brooke said. She’s absolutely positive about what she described. As I told you, she seemed pretty sharp for someone her age. I also checked her out with the vicar, as apparently she’s a regular at St Sebastian’s. He says she’s reliable.’
‘So, Gemma met the guy in secret. She wouldn’t be the first, particularly given how you describe Kramer.’
She nodded. ‘Maybe Gemma’s friend Rosie knows something. The man has to be somebody Gemma trusted. She kissed him, after all, and, from what I can tell about her, I don’t see her picking up just anybody in the street or in some internet chat room. This girl was a real romantic, I tell you.’
As she finished speaking, their food arrived. Tartaglia had just picked up his knife and fork when his phone rang. He answered it, listened for a moment, then snapped it shut.
‘Damn,’ he said, getting to his feet, staring down for a second at the untouched plate of lasagne, the smell unbearably good. ‘That was Dave. He’s found something on her computer. Says it’s really weird. We’d better go back to the office right away.’ He saw the look of desperation on Donovan’s face. ‘Look, you have yours. Then catch me up. Perhaps you can get them to put mine in a doggy bag.’
6
Twenty minutes later, Donovan rushed into the main open-plan office. At that hour, the long, low-ceilinged room, which housed the majority of the thirty-odd detectives who made up Clarke’s team, was uncharacteristically empty and quiet. Crammed with desks, phones and computers, it buzzed during the day with noise and activity and closely resembled a battery-hen shed. But with less pressing cases in hand, those not in Tartaglia’s immediate team had gone home for the night.
Tartaglia was perched on a desk at the front, next to the white board, chewing on a pen, reading some papers. He had taken off his jacket and tie, unbuttoned the top few buttons of his
He shook his head. Her instincts were usually spot on. ‘I doubt it. Let’s get him in. Make it formal and turn up the temperature.’
‘He sees himself as a tough guy, real hardboiled on the surface. Maybe he thought, because I’m a woman, he could pull the wool over my eyes. I just don’t see why, if he loved Gemma, he would want to protect someone who had harmed her.’ She gave a weary sigh and stood up. ‘Another pint?’
Tartaglia shook his head and watched her move towards the bar. Kramer wouldn’t have been the first to underestimate her. Her physical size and looks gave a misleading impression of innocence and fragility. But what was she to do? High heels and red lipstick were hardly the answer. He respected her for getting on with things as if none of it mattered, even though he knew she found it irritating at times. Apart from what had happened with Kramer, she seemed a little on edge, although he couldn’t pinpoint why. He wondered if she had picked up the vibes between him and Blake earlier on. The last thing he needed was to be the centre of office gossip, particularly when there was nothing going on anyway. At least Donovan wasn’t one to gossip, unlike some. He knew little about her personal life other than that there’d been some man called Richard around for a while. But she had stopped mentioning him and Tartaglia hadn’t wanted to appear nosey by asking. Perhaps giving up smoking was making her feel on edge.
Donovan returned after a moment and sat down, a glass with ice and lemon and a slimline tonic in her hand. ‘Thought I’d better go for something soft. Otherwise I’ll be under the table, given the little I’ve had to eat today.’ She poured the tonic into the glass and took a large gulp.
‘What’s bothering you?’
She smiled. ‘According to Kramer, Gemma had no private life. He said she wasn’t interested in boys. I got the impression he really believed what he was telling me, that he wasn’t spinning me a yarn.’
‘Your point is?’
‘I was just thinking back to what Mrs Brooke said. She’s absolutely positive about what she described. As I told you, she seemed pretty sharp for someone her age. I also checked her out with the vicar, as apparently she’s a regular at St Sebastian’s. He says she’s reliable.’
‘So, Gemma met the guy in secret. She wouldn’t be the first, particularly given how you describe Kramer.’
She nodded. ‘Maybe Gemma’s friend Rosie knows something. The man has to be somebody Gemma trusted. She kissed him, after all, and, from what I can tell about her, I don’t see her picking up just anybody in the street or in some internet chat room. This girl was a real romantic, I tell you.’
As she finished speaking, their food arrived. Tartaglia had just picked up his knife and fork when his phone rang. He answered it, listened for a moment, then snapped it shut.
‘Damn,’ he said, getting to his feet, staring down for a second at the untouched plate of lasagne, the smell unbearably good. ‘That was Dave. He’s found something on her computer. Says it’s really weird. We’d better go back to the office right away.’ He saw the look of desperation on Donovan’s face. ‘Look, you have yours. Then catch me up. Perhaps you can get them to put mine in a doggy bag.’
6
Twenty minutes later, Donovan rushed into the main open-plan office. At that hour, the long, low-ceilinged room, which housed the majority of the thirty-odd detectives who made up Clarke’s team, was uncharacteristically empty and quiet. Crammed with desks, phones and computers, it buzzed during the day with noise and activity and closely resembled a battery-hen shed. But with less pressing cases in hand, those not in Tartaglia’s immediate team had gone home for the night.
Tartaglia was perched on a desk at the front, next to the white board, chewing on a pen, reading some papers. He had taken off his jacket and tie, unbuttoned the top few buttons of his
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