42
The search coordinator shook his head, a concerned expression crossing his face. He leaned on a pool cue, one leg crossed over the other at the ankle. They were in the recreation room surrounded by officers making the most of their tea break. By the looks of them, they weren’t too happy about the interruption.
‘You going to be long, boss?’ one of them asked, impatient to resume his game.
Daniels shot him a dirty look. She eyeballed the search coordinator, a man she trusted implicitly to tell her the truth. ‘You’re absolutely certain that no lottery ticket was found on either body or in the car?’
‘One hundred per cent, boss,’ he answered confidently. ‘Searched it myself.’
Gormley and Daniels exchanged a look.
‘Is there a problem?’ he queried.
‘No, no problem,’ Gormley said. ‘Sorry for holding up your game.’
Daniels pulled a fifty-pence piece from her pocket and placed it under the pile of coins already there. ‘Next game’s on me,’ she said, then walked away with Gormley following close behind.
They headed straight for the MIR, excitement giving way to anxiety as they reached the second floor. Stopping at the head of the stairs, Gormley was breathing heavily as usual, chuntering about losing weight again.
‘So greed is the motive for Ivy’s murder,’ he said.
‘Looks like it.’ Daniels sighed. ‘That’s assuming she bought a ticket.’
‘Of course she bought a ticket! Their satnav was—’
‘Programmed for Lottery HQ, I know. But without the ticket we have no proof. We need to talk to Ivy’s family, Hank. Find out if she was in the habit of buying tickets and, if so, when and where from. If we can pin down a particular retailer, maybe we have a chance. Right now we need to spill the beans to Naylor. He’s not going like it that we’ve been meddling in his case.’
Gormley stared along the corridor towards the MIR. ‘OK, here’s what we do,’ he said. ‘Just blame me, like it was all my idea—’
‘Ahm, it was your idea.’
‘Don’t split hairs! Anyway, what’s he going to do, sack me?’
‘I’ve seen him can people for less.’
‘Nah. He’s one of the good guys! That’s never going to happen.’
Daniels wasn’t too sure.
‘You think?’ Gormley made a crazy face. ‘So we took a peek at Ivy’s car, so what?’
Daniels wasn’t really listening.
‘It’s hardly a hanging offence!’ Gormley added when she looked back at him. ‘Just tell him it was—’
‘He expressly told us not to involve ourselves, Hank. That’s direct insubordination in anyone’s book. Maybe sacking’s a bit strong. But think of it from his point of view. He’s relatively new in post and one of the first orders he gives is ignored. You can’t expect him to be happy about—’
‘You got a better idea?’
She didn’t answer.
‘Didn’t think so . . .’ Gormley stroked his chin, searched his brain for inspiration, not finding any. ‘Well, we can’t sit on what we know. Someone needs to follow it up with Ivy’s family right now, not when the B Team get their arses into gear.’
‘Hope that wasn’t for my benefit, Hank.’
Detective Inspector Roger Wallace had reached them on the stairwell, a big man with eyes too close together and really thin lips that made him appear bad tempered even thought he was actually quite jolly. Gormley glowered at him. For some reason these two gentle giants had never got along.
‘You shouldn’t creep up on people,’ Gormley growled.
‘Sorreee!’ The DI feigned surrender, both hands in the air. ‘Didn’t mean to interrupt. You two sound like you’re having a domestic. Like me and my lass . . . on a good day. I give her grief. She gives me earache. It’s what the guv’nor calls a lively exchange of views. If I were you, I’d kiss and make up.’
‘If I were you, I’d piss right off,’ Gormley said.
The DI walked away grinning.