The Arsenic Labyrinth by Martin Edwards Read Free Book Online

Perpetual, benefiting from a champagne dial and gold index markers, picked up in a dodgy bar off the Via Veneto. On the stroke of noon he strolled into a low-beamed pub and ordered a pint of strong bitter beer, brewed on the premises. He didn’t need to slake his thirst.But the alcohol made his head buzz, eased the memory of the last time he’d climbed the fells behind the pub, on his way to meet Emma Bestwick.
     
    Hannah and Lauren Self should have had a lot in common. Two senior women in a man’s world. Loosening up after a couple of drinks, Lauren liked to talk about girl power and how women in the force needed to look out for each other. A politician to her beautifully manicured fingertips, she’d been fast-tracked to the giddy rank of Assistant Chief Constable by dint of relentless focus on telling councillors on the police authority precisely what they wanted to hear. Hannah preferred to keep a safe distance from the ACC. But, when she wasn’t schmoozing with the great and the good, Lauren wasn’t a bad detective. If she wanted to find you, there was no hiding place. She cornered Hannah by the water cooler.
    ‘Hannah, just the person! This news coverage of the Emma Bestwick case, what is CCRT’s action plan?’
    Lauren loved acronyms as much as Home Office statistics and high profile campaigns against institutional discrimination. It was a safe bet that she had never heard of Emma Bestwick until the press office had served up the cuttings, but Tony Di Venuto’s piece must have concentrated her mind.
    Hannah gave a butter-wouldn’t-melt simper and said, ‘I’ve requisitioned the old papers and prioritised a formal review. Let’s see if some joined-up thinking can produce a few outcomes.’
    If Lauren realised she was being sent up, her glossy smile betrayed nothing. ‘Terrific. We need to stay ahead of the game on this.’
    ‘We’re short-handed at present. Nick Lowther will be in court for another week, and Linz Waller and Gul Khan are working on a possible DNA match in the Furness rapist inquiry. The Bestwick case is the longest of long shots. You’re happy to devote resources to a review?’
    ‘We need to respond to public concern, Hannah. You still have Les, Maggie and Bob Swindell at your beck and call. I’m surprised you haven’t organised a formal press briefing. CCRT is a high-profile unit and we want journalists to understand the value of local police work, benefiting from our can-do culture. Plus our commitment to working in close partnership with the community.’
    In other words, we need to position ourselves for the day when a force merger comes back on the agenda. Hannah assumed an obedient expression as she filled her cup to the brim.
    ‘Understood.’
    Lauren smiled. ‘Excellent. Keep me in the loop.’
    ‘Will do,’ Hannah said, sticking her tongue out at the ACC’s elegant, retreating back.
    At least she had an excuse to put the dip sampling tapes back in a drawer. She’d never wanted this job; Lauren had sidelined her after the Rao trial went pear-shaped. In part a rebuke, in part a convenient way of making sure that Hannah didn’t start getting above herself or – Heavenforbid – grabbing a share of the girl power. Hannah couldn’t care less about status; something Lauren would never understand.
    At last, Hannah was appreciating the positives of cold case work. She liked the people in her team, enjoyed making up her own rules. Above all, she relished becoming a detective again, rather than telling other people what to do and worrying about how well they would do it. If the choice was between interviewing suspects and attending endless meetings to discuss the latest measures of police service efficiency, it was a no-brainer.
    Back in her office, she leafed through old statements. Might Tony Di Venuto have figured in the original investigation? She found no mention of his name.
    ‘Solved it yet?’ Les asked.
    She’d been so engrossed, she hadn’t even heard him lumber