'Over my dead fucking body!' Derek Prentiss exploded.
The Assistant Chief Constable smiled a corporate smile. 'I wonder, Derek, if we need to be so extreme.'
If the Divisional Commander could have breathed fire from his nostrils, the reports on the ACC's desk would be singeing at the edges, about to spark into flame. 'You know how long, sir, it's taken to get street robberies under control?'
'Of course, Derek, of course. And you know, from the last trimonthly report of the Performance Committee, that's not gone unnoticed. Far from it.'
'Then why the-?'
'Because there are other priorities. And because now the robbery squad's on a more even keel, it shouldn't be beyond the realms of possibility for someone else to steady the ship. For a time, at least.'
Fucking yachting metaphors, Prentiss thought. Just because you've got?40,000s' worth of motor cruiser moored on the Trent.
'A month or so, Derek,' the ACC said. 'That's all. With luck and a following wind, it could be even less. Then you can have him back refreshed. Not that he'll be on board forever, mind. There's that to consider. Can't be far off his thirty, our Mister Resnick, and then he'll draw his pension and be on his way without so much as a by-your- leave.'
'Not forced to go, sir. Just 'cause his years are in.'
'Wouldn't you?'
Too fucking right, Prentiss thought. 'Not necessarily, sir. Not if I thought there was a job I could still usefully do.'
The ACC gave him a look which suggested that was dubious at best, then glanced down at his desk. There was a meeting of the Corporate Governance Panel in a little over an hour, and before that he'd promised the head teacher of St. Ann's Well Nursery amp; Infant School he'd drop in and present a certificate to the children who'd raised the most money towards sponsoring a police horse called Sherwood.
'All right then, Derek. Thanks for stopping by. Your cooperation, as ever, much appreciated. I know you'll do your best to ensure it all runs smoothly.'
'Yes, sir.'
Bastard, Prentiss thought as he left the room, I hope your boat fucking sinks.
When Resnick nipped home, Lynn was sitting in a wicker chair near the bay windows at the front of the house, cushions at her back, reading a book.
'Shouldn't you be in bed?' he said.
'I got bored.'
'And is that comfortable?'
'Not really.'
He kissed her cheek. 'How's it feel?'
She winced a little as she moved. 'Could be worse. Long as I keep on with the painkillers, it's bearable.'
'Get you anything?'
'Not right now.'
He kissed her again.
'What's that you're reading?'
She held it up towards him. This Book Will Save Your Life.
'Bit late for that.'
Lynn smiled. 'Not really that kind of book. Good, though.' She folded down the corner of a page and set the book aside. 'What did Bill Berry want?'
'The girl who was killed, he's leading the enquiry.'
'And what? He wants to borrow some of your squad to bump up his numbers?'
'Not exactly.'
She looked at him carefully: no mistaking the smile that was crinkling his eyes.
'He wants you,' Lynn said.
'So it seems.'
'For his number two.'
Resnick nodded.
'Handling the outside team?'
'Yes.'
'Prentiss'll go mad.'
'Over this, apparently, Prentiss has his balls in a vise.'
'I always thought it was just the way he walked.' Lynn laughed and then, as the pain lanced through her, wished she hadn't.
'Are you okay?' Resnick was concerned.
'It'll pass.'
'You sure I can't get you anything?'
'Some peppermint tea, that would be nice.'
'Have we got any?'
'Somewhere.'
He was almost at the door when she called him back. 'I'm glad. About the enquiry. You'll do a good job.'
'I'll try.'
'I always said you were the best DI I ever worked under.'
'That's just because you were trying to get into my pants.'
'You wish!' She laughed again and grimaced at another sudden bout of pain. 'You bastard, stop making me laugh!'
Resnick smiled. 'I'll get the tea.'
While he was in the kitchen, he made coffee for himself and cut off a slice of bread to go with the nub end of cheddar that had been hiding in the back of the fridge and was just this side of edible. The trouble with big breakfasts, he thought, they made you hungry for the rest of the day.
'I suppose you'll be wanting me to make a statement,' Lynn said.
'Not me. Bill Berry'll get it sorted first thing.' He smiled. 'You're a key witness, after all.'
'He'll want me to go into the station?'
'I shouldn't think so. No sense you rushing back before you have to.'
Lynn nodded and sipped her tea. 'As long as I'm okay by the trial.'
'Your Albanian.'
'Not exactly my Albanian.'
'You know what I mean.'
Nine months before, Lynn had been largely instrumental in the arrest of an Albanian national, accused of murdering an eighteen-year-old Croatian girl at the massage parlour where she worked.
Resnick took a knife to the cheese. 'The enquiry, I was thinking of taking someone from Robbery across with me.'
'A bagman.'
'Sort of.'
'Someone to watch your back.'
'Something like that.'
'Mark Shepherd? He's steady.'
Resnick shook his head. 'Catherine Njoroge.'
'Really?'
'You don't think it's a good idea?'
'I don't know. You think she's ready?'
'Yes, I think so.'
Lynn went back to her tea.
Catherine Njoroge was twenty-seven and had been on the Force since leaving university; it was only a matter of time before she made the move up from Detective Constable to Detective Sergeant. Her family had left Kenya in
