‘Thank you for that,’ I said, leading him back towards the front door.
At that moment, there was a commotion from outside, the front door opened, and a giant of a man about ten years my senior, dressed in an ill-fitting black suit, stepped inside. ‘What the hell’s going on?’ he barked. ‘This is a crime scene. Who are you?’
‘I’m DS John Gallan,’ I said, stopping in front of him. ‘And this is Peter Lacker, the neighbour.’
‘Well, I’m DI Burley and I’m taking over from here. And you two are contaminating a crime scene. Have you touched anything?’
‘No.’
‘Well, get out then. SOCO are going to be here in a few minutes and we’ve got to seal everything off.’
He motioned bluntly towards the door with his head, and we stepped past him into the hall where several uniformed officers were standing. Burley followed us out. After I’d led Mr Lacker back into his own flat, he put a large, hairy hand on my shoulder and half-pushed me over to the top of the stairs. I was going to tell him that as far as I was aware we were on the same side, so he could ease up if he liked on the tough-guy routine, but I never got the chance. He was talking before my lips even parted.
‘What were you doing back in there with the neighbour? Seeing if you could fuck up the crime scene as much as possible? Have you forgotten what the procedures are, or did you just never bother to learn them?’
‘Did you get out of bed the wrong side or are you always this charming?’
I thought he was going to pick me up then and chuck me down the stairs. I’m not a small bloke – I’m close to six feet tall – but there was no questioning the fact that he could have managed it. His sharp little eyes, by far the daintiest features on his long, heavy-jawed face, blazed angrily. ‘That’s another thing you obviously haven’t learnt then, that a DI’s a superior officer to a DS and therefore a DS should speak to a DI with a measure of fucking respect, and address him as sir. And apologize when he fucking forgets that.’ His words were spoken in a loud hiss through teeth that looked like they usually spent their time gritted, and whether I liked it or not (and I didn’t, I can assure you), what he was saying was correct. I took solace in the fact that a man as rude, angry and clearly stressed as DI Burley was not going to live to a ripe old age, surrounded by loving relatives hanging on to his every word of wisdom.
‘I was just doing my job, sir,’ I told him, emphasizing the sir. I held his gaze, knowing that the only way a person gets intimidated is if he lets himself. I’d done way too many miles for that to happen.
‘Well, you’re not doing very fucking well. So, I understand you know who the corpse is, is that right?’
‘That’s right. His name’s Craig McBride. We spoke to him yesterday in connection with a murder.’
‘But he doesn’t live here?’
‘No, the apartment belongs to a Jean Tanner. We came here to see her, but she wasn’t here. He was.’
‘What were you interested in her for?’
I explained what we knew in short, sullen sentences, giving him more of an overview of the Matthews case than the bastard deserved. As I was finishing, Berrin came over to join us. Burley turned round and saw him. ‘What the fuck’s wrong with you?’ he said. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Not used to stiffs, then?’
‘I’m all right,’ said Berrin belligerently.
‘Well, I want you both to know that we’re taking over this case now. This is our patch and we’re investigating it. Thanks very much for alerting us to yet another fucking suspicious death in the division, but we won’t be needing any more help from you. So, if you’ll excuse us…’
‘Hold on,’ I said, ignoring the murderous glare he shot me. ‘We need to speak to Miss Tanner regarding the Shaun Matthews murder case. It’s important. Sir.’
‘When we locate her, Sergeant, you’ll be given the necessary access to question her about your own case, if you follow the procedures. Now, we’re very fucking busy so I’d like it if you could be on your way before you mess anything else up. I’ll inform your superiors when and if we have her in custody.’
‘I’d also like access to the results of the post-mortem on McBride.’
‘You’ll get the information when we have it,’ he said. ‘Now, goodbye.’ He turned and stalked back towards the open door of Jean’s apartment, leaving the two of us standing there like lemons.
Sometimes you genuinely wonder why you bother. When even your own people don’t seem to want to help you, then you really are kicking a lead door. I’ve met plenty of coppers like Burley – far too many, if the truth be told – and, like him, they’re generally the older guys with too many years on the Force who’ve never quite done as well as they think their talents deserve, and who hold a grudge because of it. They’re also the ones who are most prone to corruption. I wondered briefly whether there was more to Burley’s eagerness to get us off the premises than he was letting on. It also seemed strange that he’d got here so fast. As if he’d been waiting just round the corner.
‘Where to now?’ asked Berrin with a marked lack of enthusiasm.
I sighed, forcing down the frustration. When one avenue fails, try another one. ‘Let’s go and see Neil Vamen,’ I told him.
* * *
‘Are you sure this is a good idea, Sarge?’ said Berrin. He still looked sick. Sick and nervous.
It
