Blood Work (15 page)

'You all right, boss?'

Delaney got to his knees, his right arm dangling
uselessly by his side, and looked up at Sally, who was
grinning a little too broadly for his liking, and gasped
hoarsely. 'I wore him out for you.'

'Course you did, sir.'

Delaney stood fully up, dusted the wet leaves
from his trousers with his good hand and walked
over to where the tackled man was watching him,
amused.

'I take it you don't play for the London Irish,
Delaney?'

'I play on the only team that counts, you little
shite.'

The man winked at Sally and indicated Delaney.
'You get to an age and suddenly you can't perform, if
you know what I mean.'

Sally smiled back. 'Oh yeah, and how's your
performance been of late?'

'I've had no complaints, darling.'

Sally pretended to be surprised. 'Really? Only an
elderly nurse we were talking to earlier said you
could only manage to fly the flag at half mast this
morning.'

The guy looked over at Delaney. 'What's she on
about?'

Sally turned to her boss. 'Do you know him then,
sir?'

Delaney nodded. 'This here is Andy Ware. Aka
Chemical Andy. Small-time drugs dealer, full-time
pain in the arse. The last time I saw him he had a
skinhead haircut. Peroxide blond.'

'Yeah, well, you got to move with the times,
haven't you? I do a lot of business with the brothers
nowadays . . .' Correcting himself. '
Did
a lot of
business. All behind me now of course. I've gone
legit.'

Sally looked him up and down, unimpressed.
'What's up then, Chemical? Couldn't you get hold of
any Viagra? Or was it just too cold for you this
morning?'

'The fuck are you talking about, woman?'

Sally gestured towards his groin. 'The little man,
flashing it on the heath this morning, were you?'

'I haven't been flashing anything.' He swirled his
hips. 'And let me tell you, there ain't nothing little
about this baby.'

'What are you doing here, Andy?' Delaney cut him
short.

'I live here. Last I knew that ain't a crime.'

'You caught the train just after eight this morning.
What have you been doing all day?'

'Working. Like I say, I'm out of the life.'

'Working at what? Somehow I can't see you as an
estate agent.'

'Like I give a fuck what you see me as.'

Delaney leaned in. 'We can do this down the nick
if you prefer it?'

The man shrugged. 'Community service.'

'What?'

'With the CAB, helping people with their finances.'

Delaney turned to Sally. 'He's a semi-qualified
accountant. Left university with a degree, a bad
haircut and a habit.'

'Fuck the habit, I left university with fifteen
thousand pounds' worth of student loans to pay off.'

Sally flashed him a less than sympathetic look. 'So,
you're telling us you weren't flashing the wiener this
morning.'

Chemical Andy flashed his teeth again and pumped
his groin forward. 'I told you, sweet cheeks, this here
ain't no chipolata. I'm talking jumbo sausage,
darling, you bring your own sauce.'

Delaney glared at him. 'Just answer the question.'

'What, you serious? You think I'm some kind of
pervert?'

Sally nodded. 'Yeah. We do. Why did you take off
when you saw us otherwise?'

Andy Ware shook his head. 'Because I know the
way you people work. You be putting something on
me.'

His eyes slid sideways a little, not holding
Delaney's gaze.

Delaney sighed and turned to Sally. 'Look in his
briefcase.'

Andy Ware struggled futilely against the grip of the
uniformed officers as Sally opened the case.

'No way, man. That's my private property. That's
cold, man. You got no cause. You got no right.'

Sally opened the briefcase and pulled out several
packs of white powder. 'And you got the right to
remain silent.'

'Fuck that.'

'And the right to brag about the size of you hot dog
to the boys of E Wing. I'm sure they'll have plenty of
sauce for you.'

Delaney nodded to the uniforms. 'Take him to the
car.'

The uniforms led him off cursing. Sally smiled and
looked at Delaney. 'You think he's good for it?'

'Doubt it somehow.'

'So where does that leave us?'

Delaney let out a long painful sigh and let the pain
show on his face. 'In need of a drink.'

'What's up, boss?'

'I've dislocated my shoulder.'

'Shall I take you down to the hospital?'

Delaney held his right hand out, wincing. 'Just take
my arm, both hands, and hold it tight.'

'Sir?'

'Just do it, Sally.'

Sally, puzzled, did as she was asked.

Delaney took a quick, sharp breath then wrenched
his shoulder, snapping it back into place. 'Jesus,
Mary, and all the sweet saints!' He staggered backwards,
Sally still clinging to his arm. 'All right, you
can let go now.'

Sally released her grip and Delaney put his left
hand against a lamp post.

'You all right, sir?

Delaney nodded at her, breathing deeply. 'You get
off to the pub, I'll process laughing boy back at the
factory.'

'You going to join us later?'

'Yeah, I reckon I've earned a pint today.'

'Or twenty.'

'You're getting the idea.'

He watched Sally walk away, waited until she had
turned the corner then staggered to a bus shelter,
leaning against it with his good arm, fighting
hard not to throw up as he took great gulping
breaths and waited for the agony in his shoulder to
subside.

Kate closed Helen Archer's file and pushed it to the
back of the desk as Caroline Akunin came into the
room. 'When's the trial coming up?'

'A few days.'

'Not easy for her. Having to relive that all over
again in court.'

Caroline sat opposite her and took her hands.
'How are you doing?'

Kate shook her head, blinking back tears.

'He's not going to get away with it.'

Kate gestured at the blue folder. 'How confident
are the CPS on this?'

Caroline shrugged. 'As confident as they can be in
these cases. There is physical evidence.'

'That he drugged her?'

'Not of that. But bruising. DNA. Semen secretions
on the carpet.'

'So he'll go down for it? For her at least?'

'He claims it was consensual. That she said she
regretted the split. She asked him round, they drank
a lot of brandy and then made love on the carpet in
front of the fire.'

'You're joking?'

'No. He admits it was rough sex, but entirely consensual.
It's what you would expect him to say, Kate.
You know that. If he is going to deny rape, then he
has to play the consensual card, given the physical
evidence.'

'So it's his word against hers?'

Caroline nodded sadly. 'Always is. That's why
only six per cent of them get prosecuted successfully.'

The phone on Caroline's desk rang and Kate
gestured towards it. 'You better get it.'

Caroline answered the phone. 'Hello. Speaking.'
She listened for a while. 'Okay, thank you.'

He face was impassive but Kate could see something
was worrying her as she hung up the phone.
'Bad news?'

'It's your blood work, Kate.'

'Go on.'

'There's no evidence of Rohypnol.'

'Which doesn't mean to say there wasn't any.'

'No, of course not. Depending on the strength of
whatever it was he used, it could have been flushed
through your blood and out of your system before
the tests.'

'I know.'

'There's something else . . .' Caroline hesitated.

'What?'

'You're pregnant, Kate.'

Delaney pulled his car into the White City car
park, and, as he stepped out of it, he had to shield
his eyes from a bright light suddenly shining at
him.

Melanie Jones from Sky News stepped forward,
smiling like an evangelist, and looked over at the
long-haired cameraman who had his video camera on
his shoulder and pointed straight at the policeman as
though to launch an RPG. 'We running?' she asked
him.

The cameraman nodded and Melanie turned back
to face Delaney. 'Melanie Jones, Sky News. What can
you tell us, Detective Inspector Delaney, about the
dead woman who was found on South Hampstead
Heath this morning?'

Delaney was too long in the tooth to be caught on
the back foot like that. 'It's an ongoing investigation,
I'm afraid. I'm not in a position to comment at
present.'

'Sky News has learned that there was mutilation of
the body. Was this the work of a serial killer?'

'When we have information, we'll call a press
conference.' He made the words a dismissal.

Melanie Jones called after him as he walked away.
'What is the significance of the belt buckle, Inspector?'

Delaney's turned back to look at her, his eyes
hardened. 'I beg your pardon?'

'The Green Man belt buckle? What's so special
about it?'

Delaney walked towards the police station
entrance. 'Come with me.'

Melanie enjoyed matching her long stride to his.
His reaction had pretty much told her that her source
was genuine. The cameraman dropped his camera
from his shoulder and followed at a more sedate
pace. Delaney walked through reception and up to
the security door. He quickly typed in the code on the
small pad and opened the door. Melanie Jones
walked through, but as the cameraman went to
follow Delaney blocked his path. 'Not you.' He
called across to the desk sergeant. 'Keep an eye on
him for me, will you, Dave?

Slimline Matthews nodded tersely and came
around from behind the desk, showing his massive
frame. 'Sure thing, Jack.'

Delaney closed the door behind him.

'What the hell do you think you're doing?' The
reporter's normally smooth voice had nothing honey-like
about it any more.

'Come with me.' Delaney took her none too gently
by the arm and marched her along the corridor. He
opened the door to an interview room and pushed
her into it, closing the door behind him and leaning
against it. He crossed his arms. 'Start talking.'

'No, I won't start talking. Who the hell do you
think you are?'

'My name is Jack Delaney. I'm a policeman.'

Melanie snorted. 'I know who you are, for fuck's
sake, what I want to know is what the hell you think
you're doing?'

'You kiss your mother with that mouth?'

Melanie took a deep breath and smiled, full
wattage. 'I tell you what, let's go back outside, let my
cameraman through and we'll do this properly.'

She walked up to the door but Delaney made no
motion to move out of her way.

'You mentioned the buckle.'

'So?'

'So how did you know about it?'

'If you don't let me out of this room right now
you'll have bigger problems to worry about than
that.'

Delaney gripped her upper arm. She kept herself in
very good condition, that much was clear, but she
gasped as he tightened his grip. 'No details have been
released about the belt buckle. Why don't you tell me
how you know about it?'

Melanie met his gaze, unfazed. It was a long time
since any man had scared her. 'How about you take
your hand off the merchandise?'

Delaney released his grip. 'Believe me, whatever
you've got to peddle, I'm not in the market for,
honey.'

'I got a call. The belt buckle. He told me to ask you
what belt buckles were for. He said it was a clue.
Seems he was right.'

'Who was it?'

Melanie smiled. 'Back in the market, are we?

'Just answer the fucking question.'

'I don't know. Male voice, could be twenties, could
be thirties.'

'You didn't get his number?'

Melanie shook her head. 'It was withheld. He said
he was the artist responsible for this morning's
installation piece on Hampstead Heath.'

'What else did he say?'

'He said you were obviously no student of art
history so he was going to have to give you some
more clues.'

'He actually mentioned me by name?'

'Yes.'

And that was it?'

'Just that and the belt buckle. He said he'd be in
touch with me again.' Melanie rubbed her upper arm.
'This how you treat everyone who has information
for you?'

'You came in here pointing a camera and looking
for a story. Not exactly trying to be a model citizen.'
Delaney moved away from the door but Melanie
Jones did not try to leave.

'You have your job to do, Jack. I've got mine.
You're smart?' She made it a question. 'You'll see
how we can help each other here.'

Delaney shook his head. 'Like you helped
Alexander Walker last month?'

Melanie tilted her head slightly, looking up at him.
'Is that what the attitude is all about?'

'He was a poster boy for the worst kind of
corruption in the police and you wanted to make him
a media celebrity.'

'We're both on the same side here, Detective
Inspector. You got any children?'

'What's that got to do with anything?'

'Financial security, Jack . . .'

'Don't call me that.'

'For life. For you, for your family, for your
children. The inside story on how you brought down
Alexander Walker. And how you worked with me to
bring down a serial killer.'

'He's not a serial killer. And I work with you the
day Johnny Cash starts his comeback tour.'

Melanie Jones shook her head, deadly serious now.
'We have to work together, whether you like it or
not, Detective Inspector. He's contacting me and this
guy is a serial killer. You know it, I know it and,
more importantly, he knows it.'

Delaney would have responded but the door burst
open and Superintendent George Napier barrelled
past him into the room. He smiled apologetically at
the reporter.

'I am really sorry about this, Miss Jones.'