No Mark Upon Her

relationship with Superintendent Mark Lamb, her boss, but explaining to him exactly what she was doing would be more than ticklish.
    Instantly alert, Melody gave her a searching glance and closed the door of the Project Sapphire office behind them. The small space was cluttered with computers, filing cabinets, and the personal belongings of Melody’s colleagues. Melody sat at her own desk, which was by far the tidiest of the three. “So, what’s up, boss?”
    When Gemma had rung her last night, she’d explained only that she wanted to have a look through the records. Taking one of the neighboring chairs—the absent Ginny’s, she guessed, if the hearts-and-flowers mug and the potted plants on the desk were a clue—she said, “Can we search for any female officer reporting a rape by an unknown perpetrator?”
    Melody frowned. “Female police officers? That’s it? Any other parameters?”
    Gemma thought back. Rebecca Meredith had reported her rape to Superintendent Gaskill a year ago. Her own mercifully aborted encounter with Craig had been a little less than five years ago. But she suspected that Craig’s methods had been long and well practiced by the time he’d driven her home to Leyton that night. “Can we make it ten years?” she asked, with an inner shudder.
    Melody’s eyes widened. “You want the moon, too?” She shook her head. “I’m good, but even I have limits. This may take a while.” Her level gaze met Gemma’s. “So, in the meantime, are you going to tell me exactly what we’re doing here?”
    Gemma felt a sick clutch of revulsion, her pleasure in the day erased by the thought of what Angus Craig might have done to other women.
    And walking into the station, avoiding her own boss, had made her realize just how risky an endeavor this might be. “Melody, look. I’ll understand if you don’t want to do this. Duncan’s already been warned off by the powers that be, and I don’t want to ask something of you that could damage your career.”
    “Boss. Come on.” Melody’s hands hovered over the keyboard. “You know me better than that. Just tell me what we’re looking for. How bad can it be?”
    “We’re looking for a retired deputy assistant commissioner who’s a serial rapist,” said Gemma. “And I think it could be very bad indeed.”

Chapter Fourteen

To fuel the body, each crew member consumed between 6000 and 7000 calories a day, about three times the average intake for an adult . . . Every dish would be three times larger than you’d expect to find at a “normal” dinner table. Foster brought his own special bowl to hold the mountain of pasta he ate at lunch. One oarsman ate out of a dog bowl. Others might use flowerpots.
—Rory Ross with Tim Foster
Four Men in a Boat: The Inside Story of the Sydney Coxless Four

    H aving given his name to one of the women in Leander’s front office and asked to speak to Milo Jachym, Doug took advantage of the few minutes’ wait in the club’s lobby. Hands behind his back, he strolled round the room, trying not to look as if he was gawking at the photos and trophies on display. He’d stopped in front of the gift shop display cabinet, pondering whether he’d buy a French-cuffed shirt just to wear a set of pink hippo cuff links, when a female voice spoke behind him.
    “I’d go with the navy baseball cap if I were you.”
    Turning with a start, he saw it was Lily Meyberg, the pretty house manager.
    “You don’t think the pink would work?” he asked, making a valiant effort to appear nonchalant. He nodded at the violently pink cap in the cabinet.
    “I think I’d admire such a brave man,” she said, smiling. “But the color doesn’t suit you. I’d stick with the navy.” Touching his arm lightly, she added, “Mustn’t forget my mission. I’m to take you up to reception. Milo will be along in a few minutes.”
    Following her up the staircase, he was torn between watching the way her bum moved in her slim navy skirt and looking at the photos of the Olympic medalists and world champions that lined the stairwell. He’d only glimpsed the photos the other night—he certainly hadn’t wanted to stop and gawp in front of Kincaid, but now he was finding the alternative option more tempting.
    “We’re just setting up for lunch,” Lily said when they reached the reception area at the top of the stairs. “But the bar’s open. Can I get you something?”
    “Oh, no thanks. Bit early for me.”
    “And no drinking on duty,