‘It’s an open secret. Not really a secret, more unofficial policy. Was Sparks on their payroll?’
‘We believe so. I’m also looking into the cases Superintendent Sparks was working on, and his dealings with Simon Douglas-Brown may come under the microscope, and, of course, if this happens, the press will be all over it.’
‘Simon Douglas-Brown is high-profile news fodder.’
‘Yes. The cult of celebrity.’
‘Why are you investigating all this now? The Gadd family have been working unofficially with the Met for years. They’ve stopped a lot of drugs flooding into the capital.’
Camilla regarded Erika, her eyes now colder and devoid of mirth.
‘You’re close to Commander Marsh, correct?’
Erika felt her stomach lurch. Marsh had been Chief Superintendent at Lewisham when she and Sparks worked together.
‘Me and my late husband trained with Paul Marsh at Hendon, but as much as we are friends, we have clashed in the past on the direction of my investigations…’
‘You rented a flat from him; you were at his wedding, and the christening of his twins…’
‘He was also involved in the decision to promote Andy Sparks to superintendent over me.’
‘You deny you’re close?’ snapped Camilla.
Erika wondered if she had anything, or if she was just digging for dirt. She was obviously on some crusade. Was it to root out corruption? Was it a personal vendetta? Was it easier now to smear a dead officer? Either way Erika was finding this meeting a tedious waste of time. Time she could use being a police officer. Suddenly, a bulb flickered on in the back of her mind.
‘I’m saying we’re friends, yes. But I remain professional and impartial. There are advantages of being the outsider. You have less to lose. I’d be willing to give evidence, of the limited information I have. Of course, I’d be willing keep my mouth shut when it comes to the press, you know how they love to get public opinion whipped up. People love to get enraged and take to social media, and I can see the headlines: the Met suddenly discovers its morals after twenty-five years cosying up to the Gadd crime family.’
Camilla tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair.
‘And what do you want in return, Erika? For toeing the line.’
‘I’d like to be considered for the vacant post of Superintendent. More than considered. And I’d like to be made SIO of a murder case. Lacey Greene…’
‘I asked you to come here to talk to me, Erika.’
‘With respect, ma’am, you called me in to dig up dirt on my colleagues. One of whom died when I was trying to revive him. If you’re having to pump me for information about police corruption, you must be pretty desperate. If I were you I’d concentrate on your predecessor.’ Erika’s heart was pumping so loudly that she was convinced Camilla would hear.
She stared at Erika for a long moment, sizing her up. Devoid of make-up, it was the first time Erika had noticed how blue her eyes were. It was a sharp cold blue, as if they were chips of glass.
Chapter Eighteen
Erika left the New Scotland Yard building and walked to a coffee shop on Victoria Street, where she ordered a large latte and took a seat in the corner. She took out her phone and called Marsh, but he wasn’t picking up, so she left a message explaining that she’d been called in to a meeting with the Assistant Commissioner, and to call her back asap.
When she came off the phone she had a new email asking her to report to West End Central Police Station tomorrow morning, where she would be taking over the Lacey Greene murder case.
‘You’re a fast worker, Camilla,’ said Erika. And then her phone chimed again. This time it was an email from Superintendent Yale asking where the hell she was. In the whirlwind of the past few days, she had neglected to keep him up to speed.
Erika downed the rest of her coffee and sped over to Victoria station.
* * *
An hour later she arrived in Bromley. She was on her way up to Yale’s office when she passed the kitchenette and saw him making a cup of tea.
‘Sir, I got your email, sorry I haven’t been here,’ she said. He carried on dunking the teabag in his cup, then fished it out. ‘Did you hear about Superintendent Sparks?’
‘Yes. You were with him when he died?’
‘I was…’
‘And then you met with Camilla, to discuss promotion.’
Erika didn’t like his accusatory tone. He opened the small fridge and took out a carton of milk. It was the first time Erika had realised just how small the kitchenette was. The tiny fridge, a tiny travel kettle which one of the uniformed officers had donated when the big one broke. Yale was a huge man and this kitchen made him look like a bear at a doll’s tea party. He stirred his tea, his huge sausage-like fingers daintily holding the spoon.
‘I had to try and save an officer, sir. I hope you would do the same if you were put in that position,’ said Erika.
He picked up his cup and left the kitchen. She followed him out into the corridor.
‘Sir, I have things I need to discuss with you. I’ve been reassigned. I’ll need to brief whoever replaces me—’
‘Erika, you’ve never enjoyed working here. You’ve constantly gone over my head and defied orders. You struck a deal to work on one of the MIT teams without even talking to me. I think you should just go.’ He walked off to the double doors, and Erika opened her mouth to protest, then for once, she closed it.
She went upstairs and looked around the small office she’d reluctantly inhabited. There were no personal touches or belongings other than her phone charger, which she unplugged, and a lone shortcake biscuit still balanced on the edge of her keyboard. She bit into it but it had gone soft, so she spat it out and dropped the rest in the bin.
There was a knock at the door; John poked his head around.
‘Sorry, boss. I’m just chasing up if you’ve managed to read through…’
‘No.’
‘Oh. Okay. I heard about Superintendent Sparks. Sorry.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Life is too short, isn’t it? The thought of dropping dead at the office. I want to go out on a high, extreme sports, having a laugh, in bed with my girlfriend… I don’t mean to speak out of line here, but I’ve asked you so many times to read through my application, and you’ve been fobbing me off. If you don’t want to read it then fine, just don’t lie to me.’
He stood in the doorway and Erika could see he was trying to remain composed, but his hands were shaking.
‘I’ve been transferred to the Murder Investigation Team working out of West End Central.’
‘Oh,’ he said, trying to hide his disappointment.
‘I’d like you to come with me to work on the case; it’s the Lacey Greene murder. This could give you the chance to show you are promotion material. I valued you working on the Jessica Collins case last year, and I could use your instinct, and another friendly face.’ John looked surprised. ‘I can give you time to think about it.’