you?’
If Milo didn’t understand the term, he certainly appreciated the tone and stood firm, keeping direct eye contact.
‘Don’t abuse this lady. None of this…’ Milo spread his arm towards the man’s wound, ‘is her fault,’ he said calmly but firmly, threatening them with his eyes.
The man with the stained sweater patted his friend on the shoulder.
‘Leave it,’ he said. ‘It ain’t worth the bother.’
The injured man shrugged off the hand, his shoulders still square, his neck pulsing.
‘He’s only a fucking Polack,’ said his friend.
This did the trick and the man turned back to the desk, bleeding once more over the sergeant’s paperwork.
When at last the men were bailed, Lilly stepped up. She looked at the blood still in gelatinous pools and tried not to think about hepatitis and HIV.
‘Get a cleaner in here,’ shouted the sergeant to no one in particular. ‘What can I do for you, Miss?’
‘Anna Duraku,’ she said.
The sergeant pointed to the whiteboard. ‘That her?’
Lilly saw the girl’s name had been misspelled.
‘There’s a mistake,’ she said.
‘Oh, yeah?’
‘Her name is incorrect.’
The sergeant shrugged. ‘They’re hard ones, aren’t they?’
The sloppiness annoyed Lilly. ‘Not really.’
‘Does it matter?’ asked the sergeant. ‘We all know who we mean.’
Lilly sighed. There wasn’t much point arguing.
‘Can we at least talk about bail?’ she asked.
‘Not a chance,’ said the sergeant.
‘I’m glad we talked about it,’ said Lilly.
The sergeant smiled and leaned forward on his elbows. ‘Well, I’m interested in what you’ve got to say, considering she’s in here for conspiracy to murder.’
‘Can I speak to the DI?’
‘This is bullshit and you know it is.’
Lilly and the policeman were only inches apart. She could smell his aftershave. Pine, lemon and grass.
‘She was at the scene with a gun,’ he said. ‘Someone got killed, end of story.’
Lilly took a step back and appraised DI Moodie with a cool eye. Double-breasted chalk-stripe suit and starched shirt. A silk striped tie, not the splattered horror from BHS that most of the coppers favoured.
‘Look, Officer, I understand that what happened was a terrible thing and that the world and his wife will be baying for blood. I can see the headlines now. “Children gunned down in Columbine-style massacre.”’
‘I don’t give a monkey’s about the press,’ said DI Moodie.
The hell you don’t, thought Lilly.
‘As I said, I get it, my own son goes to that school.’ Lilly ignored the raised eyebrows and pressed on. ‘But the person responsible is dead. You got him. The girl you have was dragged along for the ride and gave it up before anything got serious.’
DI Moodie nodded and she thought he might be convinced.
‘They went together. They had guns together. They pretended to be staff together. They were in on it together.’ He opened his arms. ‘In my book that’s the best description of conspiracy to murder I’ve ever heard.’
Lilly turned to leave, but at the door shot him a glance. ‘You’ll never make it stick, and when it unravels you’ll be left explaining why you wasted so much time and money.’
DI Moodie laughed.
‘Something funny?’
‘DI Bradbury told me all about you.’
Lilly put her hands on her hips. ‘And what did he say?’
‘That you were difficult, intransigent and bloody-minded.’
Lilly was smarting but refused to show it. ‘Did he also mention that the last time we crossed swords I won?’
Lilly slammed the door behind her, leaving DI Moodie staring after her.
‘Sadly, he did.’
The cell was cold.
Lilly stepped over the tray of fish fingers and beans and made her way to the bench at the far end. She patted the girl’s arm. Her clothes had been taken for examination and her police-issue white paper suit rustled like dry leaves.
‘Can’t blame you for leaving it. I wouldn’t feed it to a dog.’
Lilly looked into
Gillian Doyle, Susan Leslie Liepitz