responsible. He'd been flailing around in his own misery and self-disgust to see what Sally had seen almost immediately. No self-respecting, professional outfit would target a petrol station, it made no sense.
'So, it wasn't a robbery?'
'No, sir, I don't think it was.' She looked at her boss sympathetically. 'I think it was a warning, and your wife just got in the way.'
'Warning to who?'
I don't know, sir.'
Delaney looked down at the sleeping figure of Kevin Norrell. The comatose man knew something, he was certain of that. But Sally had provided him with somewhere to start at least. Four years of nothing. Dead ends and false trails. And now his bright-eyed detective constable, fresh out of college, was seeing things he should have seen straight away. He cursed himself for a fool and then realised he didn't have the time for any more self-pity. It was time to put matters right.
'Come on then, Sally.'
'Where to?'
'Work.'
Delaney held the piece of paper the Afro-Caribbean nurse had given him tightly in his hand. The flasher was called Ashley Bradley, he was twenty-eight years old, on unemployment benefit and lived at 28b Morris Street in Chalk Farm, just a couple of stops down on the Northern Line from South Hampstead Tube.
He was heading for the exit when he saw a familiar face waiting at the lift. He stopped and waved Sally ahead. 'Wait for me in the car, Sally.' He tossed her the keys. 'You can drive.'
Sally looked over to where Delaney's gaze was focused and her mouth twisted in disapproval. 'Do you think that's a wise idea, sir?'
'Just do it, Constable.'
Sally walked on to the exit and Delaney crossed over to the lifts just as they opened. The man turned round as Delaney approached. 'Do you want to step away from me or do you want me to call security?' he said, a little nervous catch in his voice.
Delaney pushed him into the lift.
'What the hell do you think you're doing?'
He tried to force himself past Delaney and back out of the lift, but Delaney blocked his way, pushing the button for the fifth floor. The doors closed and Delaney turned to face him.
'You and I need to have a little talk.'
Paul Archer crossed his arms across his chest. 'The only person you need to talk to is a lawyer. Because you better believe I am calling the police.'
Delaney pulled out his warrant card. 'Can you hear my knees knocking?'
Archer leaned forward to read it and laughed humourlessly. 'Even better. You'll be out of a job as well.'
'Kate Walker was upset yesterday, I want to know why.'
'What business is it of yours?'
Delaney leaned in. 'Just answer the fucking question.'
Paul Archer smiled, which Delaney figured was a big mistake. He was moments away from smashing the smug look off his face and spoiling his looks for good.
'Whatever is between Kate and me is our concern and certainly none of yours.'
'You want to tell me now or do you want to be eating your meals through a straw for a couple of weeks?'
