and rested. Putting her bucket of cleaning materials on the floor and caught her breath. Not that she wanted to be breathing too deeply. The whole place smelled of piss. And not cat piss at that. Just as well she only cleaned on the inside of this flat, she reckoned. She groaned as she leaned over to pick up her equipment and fumbled a key into the lock of the flat. She took one or two steps into the flat, saw the long coloured scarf on the floor first and then registered what it was attached to. She tried to scream but her throat seized up with shock. She quickly stepped back, the pain in her knees ignored. The front door closed in her face and she finally found herself able to scream. She screamed again and stumbled backwards, her legs trembling. Her shaking hand went to her mouth and she took another step backwards, tripping over the can of Mr Sheen that had fallen from her dropped bucket. Her arms windmilled in the air as she lost her balance and crashed down the stairs. Her screams died as she landed at the bottom, her old head slapping on the wet concrete to lie at an odd angle, her eyes closed and a thin trickle of blood leaking from the corner of her mouth.
Delaney put his case on the table and pulled out a file. He removed the e-fit picture and handed it to Dr Andrew Burke, a silver-haired man in his early thirties. Delaney reckoned that maybe the rigours of his job, the sights he'd seen on a daily basis, had sent his hair prematurely grey.
The man shook his head as he studied the picture. 'Sorry, he doesn't look familiar. He might have been in yesterday, you say?'
'Might have been.'
'I'll get Suzanne. She was on the morning shift yesterday. She might recognise him.'
The doctor left the room. Sally picked up the picture that the doctor had left on the desk. 'Why do you think he came here?'
'It's pretty common.'
'What is?'
'Flashers. Think about it, he gets to expose himself and have the goods handled at the same time.' He shrugged with a rueful smile. 'And if he's got a thing about nurses . . .'
Sally grimaced. 'Please tell me you're joking.'
Delaney grinned again. 'It's a sick world we live in, Sally.'
'You can say that again.'
'A pound to a penny our boy likes to get his pickle tickled.'
Sally frowned. 'Don't they stick little spoons up?'
Delaney nodded and Sally grimaced again. The office door opened and the doctor came back in followed by an Afro-Caribbean woman, five foot two and weighing close to a couple of hundred pounds by Delaney's reckoning, but she fitted into her neat, dark blue uniform like a Horse Guard on parade.
Andrew Burke gestured towards her. 'This is Suzanne.'
'How can I help you, Inspector?' Her voice was thick and rolling, like a wave of wind through a field of molasses cane.
Delaney held the photo out to her and she nodded. 'Yes, bless him, he was here yesterday. If it's who I think it is.'
'Why bless him?'
'The poor lad. He's had some disfigurement.'
'Scarring to his penis?'
The nurse nodded. 'Indeed. And then he got a bit embarrassed when we did some tests.'
'Embarrassed?' Sally asked.
The nurse smiled at her. 'He got himself a little aroused. It does happen.'
Sally's scowl deepened.
