Changelings by Jo Bannister Read Free Book Online Page B

friendship as family.
    It came of doing hard time together, of seeing each other at their best and their worst; of having to depend on one another, occasionally for their very lives. People whose idea of a work crisis is a downturn in the sales figures, a new-broom boss or a tax on office car-parking cannot be expected to understand how frustration, exhaustion and occasional deep terror combine to forge relationships that can shatter like glass or endure like iron but nothing in between.
    â€˜It may have to be,’ she said quietly.
    Shapiro nodded slowly. He hadn’t meant to criticize, just wanted to be sure she recognized the problem as he had not. Almost the first he knew that he had been a failure as a husband and father was
Angela coming downstairs with a suitcase. ‘Have you thought any more about going for your promotion?’
    â€˜Yes. I want it. I’ve earned it, and I want it.’ When they’d first discussed this she had sounded uncertain; now she was sure. ‘Not right now, but soon. Somewhere in the next four years.’
    â€˜It would be the ideal solution,’ agreed Shapiro. ‘They won’t let me go on doing this for ever, and there’s nobody I’d sooner see in this office after I’ve gone. But it won’t be my decision.’
    â€˜I know. All the same, it’s pretty obviously a good idea. Unless the powers-that-be decide I’m not up to it.’
    He shook his head firmly. ‘That’s not what I’ve heard. They’re under pressure to promote good women officers: it would solve a lot of problems to move you in here.’ For a moment he said nothing more, considering. ‘I know you won’t ask, so here’s my position. I can retire any time in the next four years. I’ll stay on as long as it’s helpful to you, and leave as soon as you need me to. Don’t think of it as a favour. I want to leave the place in safe hands. If I can do that by careful timing, I’ll be happy whenever it comes.’
    Her hand reached across the desk and folded over his. ‘You’re the most generous man I’ve ever known.’
    He smiled and squeezed her fingers before releasing them. ‘It isn’t generosity. If you like, it’s the last really useful thing I’ll be able to do for this town. I’d like to get it right.’
    Liz said, ‘I’ll try to justify your confidence, Frank. Assuming it works out the way we hope.’

    â€˜It will,’ promised Shapiro. ‘Or I’ll damn well stay where I am, and visit crime scenes in my bath chair.’
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    Nothing happened overnight. But at ten fifteen on Wednesday Sergeant Bolsover phoned from the front desk in a state of panic. He had a young woman and a baby in reception, both of them were screaming, he gathered one of them was hurt and it was something to do with a bottle of baby lotion, and that was the most sense he’d been able to extract from the situation.
    Liz went down to sort it out.
    The mother was not much more than a child herself. She might have been seventeen, she could have been less. She was angry and tearful, and at first Liz too had trouble making out what had brought her to Queen’s Street. ‘Try to calm down and tell me what’s happened. First, are you all right? And is the baby?’
    â€˜No thanks to that!’ She picked up the plastic bottle she’d placed on the desk in order to slam it down again, emphatically. Then she whined in pain and held out her hands like a boxer waiting to be gloved. ‘Look at them!’
    The palms were bright pink. Scalded? ‘What did that?’
    â€˜Caustic soda.’
    Liz frowned. ‘What happened?’
    The girl picked up the bottle once again, this time upended it. An address label was attached to the
bottom. In large, regular black letters it said, ‘This was caustic soda.’
    Liz deferred any further questioning while she sent for