Lee Weeks - Cold as Ice

She looked across at Carter. He nodded his agreement. ‘Yes, Sir. I think it’s the best option.’

‘I will be Ebony’s supervisor,’ said Carter.

‘Agreed.’

‘You’ll need to move into a housing association flat,’ said Carter. ‘We’ll find you a flat in the same geographical area that Hawk is working in and register for some classes in the college. Get in quickly on the course that Danielle was doing if you can, meet her peers, get into their social networking groups.’

‘What about the fact I don’t have a kid?’ Ebony looked at Bowie.

‘Borrow mine,’ said Carter.

Ebony looked at Carter as if he’d flipped. Bowie was a little more cautious.

‘Why not?’ Carter said. ‘You’ll only need him for a few hours. Take him when you go to the housing office and to college when you first go in to register, that’s all. Let everyone see you with him once then make excuses why he’s not there after that.’ Ebony was still watching Carter’s face, waiting for him to say that he would get Cabrina’s permission before involving their son in a police operation. But he was not going to. ‘It’ll be fine, Ebb. He knows you. And you’ll only be borrowing him for a few hours.’ Bowie was listening. Ebony wondered if he was about to say ‘absolutely not’. ‘The rest of the time you can say that your aunt’s looking after the baby, something like that,’ continued Carter.

Bowie was weighing it up. He nodded thoughtfully.

‘None of the children have been harmed so far, have they?’

Carter shook his head. ‘Anyway it’s not going to get that far, is it? Ebony borrows Archie just to make it look good, then we can switch to a doll. Job done.’

Bowie agreed. ‘We have to put maximum effort into Ebony’s cover otherwise it won’t work. Stay here in the office from now on, Ebb. Get Robbo to concoct a plausible legend for you. We need this up and running ASAP.’

‘Yes, Sir.’

Carter and Ebony left Bowie’s office and headed towards the canteen to chat in private. Tina was clearing tables when they went to sit down with their coffees.

‘Looking great, Tina. You lost weight?’ Carter grinned her way. She giggled. Ebony rolled her eyes. Tina fell for it every time.

They sat down and Ebony emptied two packets of sugar into her milky coffee. Carter leaned across the table towards her and kept his voice low.

‘You going to be all right with it, Ebb? Hopefully it’ll be over by Christmas if we get it right.’

She nodded. ‘What about Archie? You have to ask Cabrina if we can borrow him.’

‘Yeah, I will ask, of course, but she’s going to be okay with it.’ He sipped his black coffee and screwed up his face in disgust. ‘When are they ever going to get proper coffee in here?’

‘You need to ask her.’

‘Ebb… He’s my son. I will take full responsibility.’ She held up her hands in surrender mode. ‘Now let’s concentrate on the things we have to get right.’

‘I need to look like the kind of person he’d be interested in,’ said Ebony.

‘Yes. Go around and look at Emily and Danielle’s belongings – take in their lives. Take Jeanie with you. She’s good at spotting things about people and she can tie up with anything Tracy might have said about Danielle’s character. You will have to stay in contact me with me, Ebb. This feels like a risky situation to put you in. You’re going to have to be on your own in there, exposed. You will have to be tested first. It’s not a nice experience. I’ve known a lot of officers who just can’t hack it.’

‘I’ll be okay, Guv.’

‘I know you will. Robbo will help.’

The next morning Pauline Murphy’s body was waiting on a trolley in front of the steel fridge doors. She was thawed: her body had come to room temperature.

Harding watched Mark wheel the trolley next to the end dissecting table in the mortuary. He altered the height of the trolley and slid the body across and onto the table. ‘We’ll leave the sheet beneath her while we examine her.’ Harding placed her papers on the table over the sink at the head of the dissection table. Mark nodded his understanding and then mirrored Harding’s actions as he stood across from her and peeled back the sheeting section by section.

‘Be careful to fold it in on itself and catch whatever debris she has around her body.’ Mark didn’t answer. He was looking at the body as it unfolded. Harding held her hand out to indicate where Mark’s eyes should be looking. She wanted him to concentrate on her own hands. She wanted his whole attention. Mark obeyed for a few seconds but then his eyes slipped back to the body. Harding didn’t bark, for once; she understood that he was sensitive. She knew he would be saddened, shocked by the sight of the female form so denigrated. Her eyes were a lot softer when they focused on him than her demeanour as she stood stick-straight, pencil-thin, all hard lines. For Harding this was her sweeter side.

‘Mark?’

Mark looked up at her and nodded. His nod was a reminder to himself to stay focused. It was an acknowledgement to Harding that he knew what was expected of him and he could fulfil it at least over the mortuary slab if not in private. Mark was beginning to understand why this placement with one of the best pathologists in the UK was not an easy one. It might have helped if he had fancied her a bit but he didn’t think so. She was a female predator. She offered herself for intimacy, fornicated, then she crunched loudly on men’s bones. Mark loved to paint, figure painting – he sketched the women’s bodies in the morgue sometimes, although usually just sections of them, the curve of a breast, the soft round of a stomach. The make-up, dressing side of his job was a pleasure to him. There wasn’t much about his job he didn’t like. It meant he earned enough to buy the materials to keep his painting going and he was a better anatomist for it. He was a make-up artist with a flare for making women look beautiful even in death. He had never seen a woman so unkindly brutalized and parodied as Pauline Murphy was. But he was a professional and he was already thinking of how he could undo some of the damage done to her. Mark had got the job, started training in it because he was good friends with Harding’s last diener, Mathew. But Mathew had warned him.

‘She’s going to want to screw you – in every sense. Don’t let her know you’re gay if you can help it.’

‘Bi,’ Mark contradicted. ‘Options are still open.’

Mathew rolled his eyes.

‘Just because you were engaged once, to a woman, doesn’t mean you’re bi. It means you were confused. And that’s what you need to leave her thinking until you’re three months into your contract. That way she can’t dismiss you. Keep her thinking you’re playing hard to get. Keep camp down to a minimum and you might survive better than I did.’

‘I’m not camp.’

‘Yes you are – as Christmas, after a few drinks, and that’s what she’ll be buying you. She’ll engineer it so you have to work late, so it’s better you go to hers. She’ll turn on a charm that’s pretty irresistible in the bedroom. She’ll have you trussed up like a turkey in no time.’

‘Really? You’ve made it sound a lot more exciting than I could have dreamed of.’

‘Believe me, been there, done that and got the T-shirt plus the bruises to show for it. She invented the term rough sex, but it’s all one-way. Invent a girlfriend but not a serious one. Then she’ll think she just has to wait. The main thing in all this is not whether you feel like seeing if you’re really bi; it’s that she gets bored very quickly and then one day you find your job’s been given to another. Remember – treat ’em mean – keep ’em keen.’