After talking it through with Phil Sweet, earlier in the day, Gill had put together her list for Gerry, the forensics submissions officer. She had wanted them to examine trace evidence from the body, from the duvet and from the sheet in the bedroom, but Gerry wasn’t playing.
‘I can’t authorize all this premium rate, Gill,’ he said. ‘What are your priorities?’
‘The body obviously, but given her state of dress and the indications that she had sex, I’d like to include the material from the bedroom.’ She could try, couldn’t she?
‘Yeah, and I’d like a Lotus and early retirement on a six-figure pension. However… straitened times.’
‘C’mon, Gerry.’
‘The best I can do is put the body samples through premium rate as a first tranche and let you have the second lot as standard.’
At least he wasn’t telling her to sit on part of her trace evidence, which might have happened. It would all get looked at, even if she had to wait longer for some of it. ‘You’re a hard man, Gerry.’
‘I am God’s gift, that’s what I am. You’re getting everything you want tested.’
‘Not when I want.’
‘Patience,’ he had said.
‘Go on,’ she told him, ‘bugger off and play with your budgets.’
‘For now, Sean Broughton is our witness, but talk to him again. Lisa’ – Gill moved the discussion on to focus on the victim – ‘left care, Ryelands House, eight months ago. They no longer have a duty of care but we should still pay ’em a visit. Lisa’s personal advisor is James Raleigh. Rachel, you talk to him: what was he dealing with, any recent trouble?’ Gill glanced at her papers. ‘Where’s Mr Finn?’ she said.
‘Mickey?’ Janet got there first.
‘Droll,’ said Gill. She saw a flicker of panic in Kevin’s eyes as he joined in the laughter. Poor sod didn’t know the term: Mickey Finn, a drink laced with drugs. Roofies the modern equivalent, rohypnol.
‘Bernard Finn,’ Pete said, ‘Irish citizen. Whereabouts unknown. Left the area in ninety-three. HGV driver.’
‘Right, now, we’ve only one FLO in place as yet and we are taking next-of-kin to do a formal ID.’ She looked at Janet: ‘OK, cock?’
‘Fine,’ Janet said.
‘If she’s fit, have a chat too.’ Gill saw Rachel glance at Janet, body language between the two of them like a pair of alley cats bristling for a scrap. ‘Take Rachel,’ she added to Janet. Throw them together, force them to work it out.
‘Thought I was doing the personal advisor?’ said Rachel.
‘Use your initiative,’ Gill said briskly, ‘time management. Kevin.’ Gill fixed on him, watched his face: untroubled, a kid, eager.
