Prime Suspect (Prime Suspect (Harper)) by Lynda La Plante Read Free Book Online Page A

back of the head, which had no effect at all. She hurtled after her brother, whooping at the top of her voice.
    “OK, sorry about that, Felix old mate, but it’s Tom’s birthday. No, he got the ball last year, this year it’s boxing gloves . . .” He reached automatically for his cigarettes.
    “Noisy little sod’s a real chip off the old block . . . Well, wish him happy birthday from me. How’s your suspect measure up, by the way? Is he right-handed?”
    Shefford sucked on his cigarette. “Yep . . . How’s this for size; he’s five feet ten and a half, well-built, looks like he works out.”
    On the other end of the line, Felix puffed at his cigar. When the two men were together in one room they created such a dense fog that they were known as the Danger Zone. “I’d say, John boy, you’re a lucky sod. By the way, I was talking to Willy last night. Did he mention to you that he reckons there’s not enough blood in that room?”
    “You mean she wasn’t killed there?”
    “It’s his department, but I’d say he’s probably right.”
    The press release that morning said little, just that a known prostitute had been murdered. Della had no family and no one volunteered any information about her movements. It was the same story all round; none of Della’s friends and associates the police had contacted so far had seen her for weeks. Of ten residents of the house who had given statements, not one could say when they last saw her. Mrs. Salbanna had been staying at her daughter’s to help with the children while her newest grandchild made an appearance, and had not been home much for several weeks. Anyway, Della had been avoiding her for months because of the rent she owed. It was as if she had never existed, and, sadly, no one seemed to care.
    By eight-thirty Shefford was at his desk, going over the typed-up statements from the previous day. He also had the full details he’d requested on Marlow’s previous conviction. As he sifted through the information an alarm bell rang in his head, the same as on the previous day. Something was trying to breakthrough . . .
    Sergeant Otley brought coffee and doughnuts on a tray.
    “Otters, there’s something niggling me about this guy. Can you check something out for me, but tiptoe it? A girl was murdered in Oldham when I was there; get me the information on her, but keep schtum.”
    Otley licked sugar off his top lip and replied, “Yeah, what you think, he maybe did others?”
    Shefford nodded. “Yeah. Watch out for me on this, I knew the one in Oldham too, know what I mean?”
    Otley sucked jam and sugar off his fingers and carried his beaker of coffee to his own desk. He inched a drawer open and brought out Della Mornay’s diary.
    “What do you want done with this?” he asked.
    Shefford bit into his second sugar-coated bun. “Hang on to it, old son, I’ll check it out later. I’m goin’ down to the cells, then upstairs, give the boss everythin’ we’ve got. I reckon he’ll give us the go-ahead to charge the bastard. If we finish it, you gotta hire a fuckin’ clown’s outfit!”
    Laughing, Otley replaced the diary in his desk drawer. He called out as Shefford left, “Eh, Big John, there’s two hundred quid riding on us from DCI Tibbs’ bunch, says we can’t beat Paxman’s record!” Otley could hear Shefford’s big, bellowing laugh all the way down the corridor.
    Shefford was still laughing while he waited for the cell door to be opened. He wanted to have a look at Marlow; he always did this just before he charged a suspect. There was something in a murderer’s eyes, he had never been wrong yet.
    Freshly shaved and showered, the prisoner looked somehow different this morning. Shefford was slightly taken aback; there was an eagerness to Marlow, a light in his eyes when he saw who it was at the door.
    “Can I go?” Marlow asked.
    Without speaking, Shefford shook his head slowly.
    Jane Tennison parked her car with difficulty. DCI