listen to. It was as though she was telling a story around a campfire. She enthralled everyone with her turn of phrase and clear voice. She made detailed reference to Henry’s evidence and supported Graham’s submission. She told the jury that they must be very sure that Detective-Sergeant Christie’s evidence was sound. Any doubt and they must not convict.
Henry could only agree with her conclusion from a professional point of view. Personally he was extremely pissed off about it. But then again, he mused, she hadn’t told them not to convict…
However, she more or less directed the jury to convict on all the other counts.
The twelve good and true men and women then retired to consider their verdicts. By five o’clock they had not got anywhere. They had begun a process which was to last five days. Over this period they were taken to a secret location — an hotel on the outskirts of Lancaster where they were guarded by armed police and dog-handlers. The Judge instructed them to remain there until they reached their verdicts. Only then could they return to court.
Late that Friday night, the jury retired to their respective bedrooms at the hotel to get a good night’s sleep before continuing with their task the following morning.
At 6 p.m. in Miami, five hours behind British time, Sue finished her work for the day at the FBI building, collected a couple of personal belongings from her desk and made ready to go home.
She was extremely bored with the task now allotted to her — a fraud enquiry which had been ongoing for two years and which the Bureau had been unable to crack. For the last two months she had been combing balance sheets, profit and loss accounts, bank transfers and private bank accounts until figures had been coming out of her ears, but at least she had made a breakthrough. She was fairly sure how the fraud was being perpetrated, but uncertain how it could be proved in court.
Although pleased by the progress, she was actually bored rigid with the case. The short time she’d spent teamed up with Joe Kovaks and the Corelli Unit had been very exciting and had given her a look over the fence, where the grass was definitely greener. She longed to get back onto organised crime where the baddies pulled guns out, not pens, and it was blood that was spilled, not ink.
And she missed Joe.
After an unsteady start, to say the least, she and he had become good friends. She had managed to maintain some contact with him when she’d been transferred, but it had dwindled and she hadn’t seen him for almost four weeks now. It made her sad, but she knew he was completely immersed in Corelli, especially after the tragedy with Chrissy.
As Sue stepped into the elevator, one other person was already inside, finger on the Door Open button.
Oh God, she thought. I do not like this guy. He gives me the creeps. However, she steeled herself and said, ‘Hello, Mr Ritter,’ pleasantly.
‘ Hello, Sue,’ he said. ‘Ground or basement?’
‘ Basement, please. My car’s down there.’
‘ Mine too.’ He smiled ingratiatingly and pressed the button. The doors closed slowly with a sinister hiss and the elevator descended.
Sue stared at the doors.
Ritter lounged against the side of the elevator, looking at her. Bitch, he thought. You fucking know, don’t you?
‘ Any thing planned for the weekend,’ he asked her.
‘ No, not really. Some shopping, maybe. Catch a movie, that sort of thing. ‘
‘ Not going to Bayside, by any chance?’ He laughed nervously.
Now why ask that? She recalled seeing him there once and him denying it, but that was months ago. Obviously it meant something to him — probably out meeting some woman other than his wife — but so what? He wanted to deny it, let him deny it.
‘ Spending some time with your fiance — Damian, isn’t it, from Fingerprints?’
‘ No, he’s away,’ she said. ‘Gone to see his mother for a few days. I’ll have a nice weekend all alone.’ She- smiled at Ritter, wishing he’d shut up but not wishing to be impolite.
Fortunately the elevator stopped on the second floor and two secretaries got in. They were going to the basement, too. Sue was relieved. She exhaled a long breath.
At the basement Ritter stood by the elevator door, finger on the button, and allowed the three women to walk out ahead of him. The secretaries peeled off to the left. Sue walked straight on towards the car park.
If she turns round, Ritter thought, she knows.
Sue couldn’t help herself. She glanced quickly round and saw Ritter still in the elevator, watching her. Weirdo. She increased her pace. Why the hell did I tell him I was alone this weekend, she asked herself. She had an uneasy feeling.
Ritter pressed the button which would take the elevator to the administration floor.
In the general office Ritter managed to collar one of the clerks before she left. Ritter knew she dealt with annual leave.
‘ Have you got a moment?’ he asked.
‘ Yeah, sure, what is it?’
‘ I left a fingerprint indent with one of the experts downstairs, a guy called Damian Faber. I’ve been trying to chase him up today for a result. Turns out he’s on leave. I need to speak to him pretty urgently about it. Is there any chance you can get into your computer records and see if he’s left an address where he can be contacted? I’d really appreciate it.’
‘ Yeah, sure, no problem. Won’t take but a minute.’
She sat down by a computer terminal, switched the machine on and tapped quickly into the computerised leave records.
‘ Here we are.’ She leaned sideways to allow Ritter to see the screen..
‘ Mother’s address in Clearwater,’ said Ritter. ‘No phone number. Damn!’ He jotted down the details, which also included Damian’s home address and phone number. ‘I am very much obliged to you,’ he said to the clerk. ‘Looks like I’ll have to send the local cops round to roust him.’
‘ Looks like,’ she said, logging out and switching off. She pulled on her coat and hurried out of the office, late for her date.
Ritter phoned Damian’s home number. The answering machine clicked in.
‘ Excellent,’ said Ritter to himself with a dangerous smile. ‘He ain’t there, so he must still be at Mommy’s.’
It was going to be a short, violent weekend for Agent Fat Bitch.
Damian had decided to surprise Sue.
He’d taken a few days’ leave in order to visit his mother in Clearwater because she claimed to be seriously ill and close to death. Seriously mad, Damian thought as he drove east along Highway 41 towards Miami and home in his battered Chevvy.
Two days with her had driven him nuts. He had originally planned to stay until Sunday, but her crazy ways decided him to return early, surprise Sue and have a weekend of debauchery.
The thought of her body — a body he had come to love even though she was immense — spurred him to press down a touch more on the gas pedal. The car surged ahead and at the same time he experienced a pleasant sensation at his groin. He reached forwards and turned the volume of the radio up a touch as the Stones cut into Honky Tonk Women.
The chimes on the front door of the apartment tinkled. Sue pulled on her thin pink cotton dressing-gown, the one Damian liked — especially when she was damp and it clung to her — and trotted happily to answer it. She peered through the spy hole and stepped back, puzzled but unafraid.
She unlocked and opened the door. ‘Mr Ritter,’ she said. It was more of a question.
‘ Hello, Sue.’
‘ What can I do for you?’
‘ I think we need to talk.’
‘ About what?’ She felt suddenly vulnerable and tugged the belt on her gown tighter.
