She Died Young by Elizabeth Wilson Read Free Book Online Page B

verdict of accidental death, but he wasn’t happy. And there was no proper police investigation. Another look at the case might lead to … to matters related to your own concerns, sir. He’s interested in police methods and so is the Chronicle .’ McGovern watched Moules as he spoke. ‘It could lead to something that might be helpful in any changes you may hope to make.’
    ‘I see.’ Moules paused.
    ‘If that’s all, sir …’ McGovern stood up again.
    But Moules still hadn’t finished. ‘So there might be something questionable about this King’s Cross affair. Allegations of incompetence – we have to take them seriously.’
    ‘Or more than incompetence.’
    ‘I see.’
    ‘His reputation’s not for nothing, sir, as the top crime reporter. He does have an instinct.’
    ‘I don’t believe in instinct, McGovern. Police work deploys reason, not instinct to establish facts. And, as I said, I don’t trust journalists.’
    ‘You can trust Blackstone to milk the Tony Marx affair.’
    Moules was silent, presumably thinking about that.
    ‘If we followed up the girl’s death he might …’ McGovern had been about to say ‘do us a favour in return’, but guessed that Moules was suspicious of favours, so instead changed it to ‘… he’d be pleased. And it might be a useful lead in any procedural inquiry.’
    ‘So he was suggesting the investigation of this girl’s death wasn’t all it should have been?’
    ‘He suggested there was something not right about it, sir.’
    Moules now leaned forward and put the tips of his fingers together, in a gesture McGovern found annoying. ‘The publicity over the Soho stabbing has been terrible. We need to assist the press to see things from our point of view.’
    ‘I don’t know how much the Chronicle knows. He did hint there might be a reason there’s been no arrest in the Soho murder case.’
    ‘I think we know that, don’t we? Unbreakable alibi. Slater questioned the suspect on – three occasions, wasn’t it – but he couldn’t be budged. He stuck to his story. Slater’s team checked out his alibi. It’s rock solid.’
    ‘I know, sir. There’s a wall of silence. Hell has frozen over. But that’s not what Blackstone meant.’
    Moules stared at McGovern. ‘That makes it all the more remarkable that in this case …’ He didn’t complete the sentence.
    ‘It’s possible Blackstone could be helpful – if we gave him something to expose.’
    ‘No, no.’ Moules stood up and walked over to the window. ‘We can do without that sort of help. That would never do. It must be dealt with on a strictly internal basis.’ After another long silence he said: ‘But we’ll make a few enquiries about this girl in the hotel. Low-key. Jarrell’s working in that division now – King’s Cross. We’ll proceed cautiously.’
    At that moment there was a commotion in the corridor. Slater’s unmistakable voice was heard shouting, ‘Then effing well lock him up.’
    A bang on the door, and Slater flung it open without waiting for an invitation. Seeing McGovern, he did a fake double take. ‘Apologies, sir. Am I interrupting something?’
    ‘What is it, Slater?’ Moules stared at the intruder. For Slater’s presence did intrude. He seemed louder, larger than other men as he stood in the doorway. He was the image of the glaring American eagle, his domed forehead sloping into a great beaked nose, with piercing eyes on either side, the head supported by a massive neck.
    ‘Need a search warrant, sir. There’s a fence down Old Street way—’
    ‘Calm down, Slater. And another time, wait till I answer before entering the room.’
    McGovern would have been interested to see how the encounter developed, but Moules dismissed him. Reaching his own office, he sat down at his desk and looked out of the window. During the brief interregnum following Gorch’s departure he’d made sure he got moved to a better room. But he’d lost his Sergeant, Jarrell, who’d had