daughter, because her father is a drink-sodden car crash of a man with the social responsibility of a mentally damaged animal.'
Delaney fought the urge to punch him. 'I do feel responsible.'
'You bloody well should do.'
'And I am grateful.'
'As I told you before, Jack. Many times. You can show that gratitude by keeping out of my sight.'
'I need a favour.'
Roger sat back in his chair, genuinely astonished. 'You are bloody joking?'
Delaney pulled out a piece of paper with an address written on it and put it on the desk in front of him.
'I want to know who owns this building, who built it and who sold it. I want the financial trail.'
'And you can't do this through your own department, why?'
'Because it's linked to Sinead's death. The people responsible for your sister-in-law's murder.'
Roger looked at the paper but made no move to pick it up. 'I don't think so.'
Delaney looked at him for a moment. 'You want me to tell Wendy you refused to help?'
Roger glared at him for a moment before snatching the paper up. 'Get the hell out of my office.'
Delaney glared back at him for a moment then nodded, turned his back and walked out the room, closing the door loudly behind him. Roger Yates simmered with fury for a moment then picked a golf ball off his desk and hurled it against the opposite wall, narrowly missing a Chagall which was worth more than Delaney's annual salary. He looked at the address written on the piece of paper then snatched up his telephone and punched a button.
'Sarah, I've got a job for you.' He sighed angrily. 'Well, cancel it. This is urgent. My office, now.'
He slammed the phone down. 'Fucking Irishman!'
Helen Archer sat down in a chair which she had carefully placed opposite the sofa where Kate was sitting, took a sip of her tea and looked at her visitor with puzzled eyes. 'I don't see why we need to talk about him. The court case is in a couple of days.'
'I know.'
'And you're with the police, you say?'
Kate shook her head. 'I work with the police. I'm a doctor.'
'You're a police surgeon?'
'I used to be. Not any more. I'm a forensic pathologist.'
The frown on Helen's forehead deepened. 'I don't understand. Has somebody died?'
Kate took a deep breath. 'I think your husband might have raped me.'
Helen looked at her, shocked. 'What do you mean
Kate shrugged, blinking back tears. 'I think there were drugs involved.' She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. 'A date-rape drug. Rohypnol, something like that . . .' She paused for a moment. 'Like he used with you.'
Helen flinched. 'How do you know that?'
'Like I said, I work with the police,' Kate said. 'I looked at documents. I shouldn't have done, but I needed to know about him. I needed to know if it was true.'
Helen stiffened, lifting her chin, challenging. 'Is that why you came here? To see if I was telling the truth.'
