sounding.
‘So there’s no such thing as morality,’ said Marina. ‘That’s what you’re saying. It’s all relative.’
‘Absolutely,’ said Fiona Welch. She sounded disappointed that Marina hadn’t risen to her words.
‘So someone could commit a crime and they should get away with it providing they’ve got a good enough excuse, is that what you’re saying?’ said Mickey. ‘That what you mean?’
She put back her head, closed her eyes. Smiled. ‘The response I expected from a police officer. You’ve got a lot to learn,’ she said quietly.
‘So why are you here, then?’ asked Marina. ‘What are you doing in this place if your theories are true?’
Fiona Welch opened her eyes, leaned forward. ‘I’ll tell you.’
13
T he man in the hospital bed looked exactly what he was, thought Phil: the only survivor of a great tragedy. He was pale, dehydrated. Skin sunken, mottled, discoloured to various unhealthy shades of sickness. He was awake – barely – but he appeared to be tired beyond sleep. His dead fish eyes were deep set, hollowed, staring at things no one else could see, open to a private world of horror. The rest of them round his bed were thankful they didn’t share it.
‘Darren Richards?’ Phil asked.
At the mention of his name, Darren Richards seemed startled, fearful. If he had the energy to jump, thought Phil, he would have.
‘Detective Inspector Brennan,’ said Phil, holding up his warrant card.
Detective Constable Imani Oliver sat at the man’s bedside. Darren Richards looked at her while Phil spoke, as if for guidance on how to respond.
Imani had been the first – and sometimes he thought, the only – one on his team to respond to his approach. Dress creatively, think creatively. She was dressed casually but practically in jeans, sweater and boots. Young and attractive, her dark skin contrasted with the white of her Aran sweater. Having worked with her, Phil knew how good she was and really valued her presence on the team in a way that Sperring often didn’t. Sperring was good at his job. And loyal and trustworthy. But he wasn’t always a good judge of character, nor was he the most unprejudiced of people.
‘It’s all right, Darren,’ said Imani, her voice soft, solicitous, ‘you can talk to him. He’s safe.’
Daren Richards didn’t look convinced, seemed too traumatised even to speak.
Imani, sensing this, spoke again. ‘Don’t worry. He just wants to help. Help you. We all do.’
Phil found another chair, dragged it up to the bed. The nurse pulled the curtains round, giving them a semblance of privacy.
‘Please don’t stress or overtire him,’ she said to Phil.
‘I’ll be as brief as I can,’ he replied. ‘Thank you.’ He smiled.
The nurse returned it, quite shyly. ‘You’re welcome. I appreciate you’ve got your job to do.’
‘And I’m aware that you do, too.’
Phil kept smiling at her. The nurse, reddening slightly, let herself out.
‘Charmer,’ said Imani quietly.
‘Always be polite,’ he said. ‘I may have just bought us a bit of extra time because of that.’ Then he turned to Darren Richards. The traumatised young man was surrounded by drips and monitors. It might have been the most attention he’d ever had, thought Phil, then amended his thought. Darren Richards had been before the judge. Several times. It was one of the reasons Sperring had given for not accompanying Phil to the hospital.
‘You’re better dealing with that sort than me,’ he had said, not bothering to hide his distaste. ‘I’ll go back to the station. See if Nadish’s come up with anything worth following through. Check a couple of leads from this morning.’
‘Such as?’ Phil had asked.
‘Moses Heap, for one. Rings a bell for some reason. Not just ’cause of all the stuff in the papers, there’s something else. Can’t think what, though. But it’s like an itch that needs scratching.’
‘Lovely. I’ll leave you to it.’ And Phil had
‘So there’s no such thing as morality,’ said Marina. ‘That’s what you’re saying. It’s all relative.’
‘Absolutely,’ said Fiona Welch. She sounded disappointed that Marina hadn’t risen to her words.
‘So someone could commit a crime and they should get away with it providing they’ve got a good enough excuse, is that what you’re saying?’ said Mickey. ‘That what you mean?’
She put back her head, closed her eyes. Smiled. ‘The response I expected from a police officer. You’ve got a lot to learn,’ she said quietly.
‘So why are you here, then?’ asked Marina. ‘What are you doing in this place if your theories are true?’
Fiona Welch opened her eyes, leaned forward. ‘I’ll tell you.’
13
T he man in the hospital bed looked exactly what he was, thought Phil: the only survivor of a great tragedy. He was pale, dehydrated. Skin sunken, mottled, discoloured to various unhealthy shades of sickness. He was awake – barely – but he appeared to be tired beyond sleep. His dead fish eyes were deep set, hollowed, staring at things no one else could see, open to a private world of horror. The rest of them round his bed were thankful they didn’t share it.
‘Darren Richards?’ Phil asked.
At the mention of his name, Darren Richards seemed startled, fearful. If he had the energy to jump, thought Phil, he would have.
‘Detective Inspector Brennan,’ said Phil, holding up his warrant card.
Detective Constable Imani Oliver sat at the man’s bedside. Darren Richards looked at her while Phil spoke, as if for guidance on how to respond.
Imani had been the first – and sometimes he thought, the only – one on his team to respond to his approach. Dress creatively, think creatively. She was dressed casually but practically in jeans, sweater and boots. Young and attractive, her dark skin contrasted with the white of her Aran sweater. Having worked with her, Phil knew how good she was and really valued her presence on the team in a way that Sperring often didn’t. Sperring was good at his job. And loyal and trustworthy. But he wasn’t always a good judge of character, nor was he the most unprejudiced of people.
‘It’s all right, Darren,’ said Imani, her voice soft, solicitous, ‘you can talk to him. He’s safe.’
Daren Richards didn’t look convinced, seemed too traumatised even to speak.
Imani, sensing this, spoke again. ‘Don’t worry. He just wants to help. Help you. We all do.’
Phil found another chair, dragged it up to the bed. The nurse pulled the curtains round, giving them a semblance of privacy.
‘Please don’t stress or overtire him,’ she said to Phil.
‘I’ll be as brief as I can,’ he replied. ‘Thank you.’ He smiled.
The nurse returned it, quite shyly. ‘You’re welcome. I appreciate you’ve got your job to do.’
‘And I’m aware that you do, too.’
Phil kept smiling at her. The nurse, reddening slightly, let herself out.
‘Charmer,’ said Imani quietly.
‘Always be polite,’ he said. ‘I may have just bought us a bit of extra time because of that.’ Then he turned to Darren Richards. The traumatised young man was surrounded by drips and monitors. It might have been the most attention he’d ever had, thought Phil, then amended his thought. Darren Richards had been before the judge. Several times. It was one of the reasons Sperring had given for not accompanying Phil to the hospital.
‘You’re better dealing with that sort than me,’ he had said, not bothering to hide his distaste. ‘I’ll go back to the station. See if Nadish’s come up with anything worth following through. Check a couple of leads from this morning.’
‘Such as?’ Phil had asked.
‘Moses Heap, for one. Rings a bell for some reason. Not just ’cause of all the stuff in the papers, there’s something else. Can’t think what, though. But it’s like an itch that needs scratching.’
‘Lovely. I’ll leave you to it.’ And Phil had
Similar Books
