6
Tuesday
Irvine went to Liam Moore’s room and knocked on his open door. He beckoned her in with a wave of his hand, not looking away from his computer screen. She sat and waited while he typed something on his keyboard. Irvine had not yet worked out if Moore was always in the middle of something when she wanted to speak to him or if he pretended to be so that he could make her wait. Maybe he was checking his Twitter account.
‘How did it go yesterday with the SCDEA thing?’ he asked eventually, pushing the keyboard forward and resting his arms on the desk.
‘It was a long day.’
‘Anything you need from me?’
‘No. It’s too early to really know where the investigation is going.’
He watched her silently.
‘They’re retaining overall control of the investigation, right? I mean, the SCDEA.’
‘Yes. They’re happy for me to lead on the latest victim. The girl.’
‘Territorial boundaries and all that. Plus, they think they’re better than regular cops. Hand-picked, you know?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I appreciate that boundaries are not your strong point, Becky.’
She smiled. He did not.
‘Try to play nice, okay? Stay out of trouble.’
‘Sure.’ She frowned. ‘Of course I will.’
Armstrong had changed and washed his hair but the stubble was still in place, grown heavier overnight. It looked like he didn’t need much time for a full growth to develop.
‘You going for a beard?’ she asked.
He rubbed at his chin.
‘If it was good enough for Serpico …’
‘So what’s the plan for this morning?’ she asked.
‘Chase up the lab results,’ he said. ‘Talk to the uniforms. See what shakes loose.’
‘See what shakes loose?’ She squinted at him. ‘Kenny Armstrong, LAPD.’
‘You’re a little weird. And potentially very annoying.’
‘Thanks.’ She beamed at him.
Armstrong took a large bite out of a chocolate muffin. Crumbs stuck in his beard and he wiped them away with his hand.
‘Uniforms are here,’ he told her. ‘They’re downstairs.’
‘When were you going to tell me this?’
‘I just did.’
Irvine called down to the main reception and asked them to direct the officers to her desk. When two men came on to the floor she raised a hand in greeting and they started over.
‘DC Irvine?’ the taller of the two male officers asked.
‘That’s me. And this is DS Armstrong.’
Nods all round. The uniforms took their hats off and set them on the empty desk next to Irvine’s then pulled up two spare chairs to sit down. It looked to Irvine like the taller man was probably in his mid-thirties and the shorter one not yet out of his twenties. They were both lean, with short brown hair.
‘You responded to the call-out yesterday morning, right?’ Armstrong said. ‘The body in the river. Joanna Lewski.’
‘Yes,’ the taller one answered again. ‘She called herself Tanya. For the punters, you know. I guess she thought it was exotic.’
‘And you arrested her before. When was that?’
The taller man lifted a plain file and placed it on the desk in front of Irvine. She hadn’t even noticed he had been carrying it. She opened the file and skimmed the arrest report.
‘Picked her up for soliciting down on Waterloo Street about nine months ago,’ the tall cop went on. ‘She was high as well and had some gear on her. Heroin.’
‘Says here that she got community service.’
‘Six weeks. And she did it, to be fair to her.’
Irvine looked up at the man.
‘How is it that you remember her?’
The man held Irvine’s gaze.
‘She was new. I could tell. And, well, she was just a wee thing, you know. I felt for her.’
‘You’ve been on the job how long?’
‘Does it never get to you?’
Irvine had felt the same resentment of detectives herself when she had been on patrol. She looked back down at the file, finding an address for the girl south of the river in Bridgeton.
‘Who does she live with?’ Irvine asked.
‘Another girl. An older one. Real hard case name of Suzie Murray.’
‘Someone put her up in the flat to keep an eye on her while they got her started?’
‘That’s the way it works.’
‘Do you know who?’
‘No. Sorry.’
Irvine slid the file to Armstrong who picked it up and sat it on his lap to look through it.
‘Any family here that we need to know about?’
‘No. Far as we know she came over here on her own.’
‘Seems awful young.’
He shrugged.
Irvine tapped a finger on the desk and bit at her lower lip.
‘I saw her later,’ the shorter man said.
The tall one twisted in his seat to look at his partner. The short one stared at him.
‘When?’ Irvine asked.
‘Couple of weeks after she got sentenced. Her community service was helping clean graffiti, you know. I saw her and said hello. Asked how she was doing.’
‘Was she high?’
‘No. But she didn’t look too healthy.’
Irvine glanced at the photograph of the girl in the file that Armstrong was holding. She was an attractive girl.
Armstrong closed the file.
‘Anything else that might help us?’
The two men looked at each other and shook their heads.
After they were gone, Irvine asked Armstrong what he thought of the girl – and the reaction of the two uniformed officers. Armstrong flicked the file open nonchalantly and looked at the girl’s picture.
‘She looks young in this picture. Vulnerable. I can see why men would react to her.’
‘What, you’re not a man?’
‘I try to keep the job separate.’
‘Good luck with that.’
The corner of Armstrong’s mouth twitched.
‘You heard of her room-mate, this Suzie Murray?’
‘Can’t say that it rings any bells. But I know the type.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘She’ll not be well disposed towards us.’