Tony Hill u Carol Jordan 08 - Cross and Burn

the mobile phone of the second victim. And the key evidence, as far as Fielding is concerned, is that both of the victims look a bit like me.’
    The tip of Scott’s tongue slipped between her lips then she bit her lower lip. It was almost sexual. ‘Interesting,’ she said. ‘And where is this coming from?’
    ‘Do you remember Paula McIntyre?’
    Scott made a sardonic face. ‘Killer interviewer. Yes, I remember Paula very well.’
    ‘She’s Fielding’s bagman now. She’s always had something of an alliance with Tony. She doesn’t like what’s happening, but she can’t put her head above the parapet or Fielding will shoot it off.’
    ‘Makes sense.’ Scott shivered and pulled her coat closer. ‘So what do you want me to do about it?’
    ‘I want you to go over the street and demand to see your client and do what needs to be done before Fielding gets her claws into him in the morning. They did an interview under caution and they plan to reinterview him and search his home and his office, according to Paula.’
    ‘Will he do what he’s told?’
    Carol shrugged. ‘That’s debatable. I imagine it will depend on what you tell him.’
    Scott shook her head, resigned. ‘They never know what’s best for them. Not even the smart ones. I suppose I should thank you for dropping this in my lap. So, thank you, Carol.’ She laid a hand on Carol’s arm, the dramatic scarlet nails drawing attention from her hand’s betrayal of the attrition of age.
    Carol looked down at the false gesture of intimacy and Scott withdrew it, though not hastily. ‘I’m not done,’ Carol said.
    Scott cocked her head to one side. ‘Of course you’re not. I presume you want to be briefed?’
    ‘More than that. I want to come in with you.’
    Scott laughed, the sound echoing spookily round them. ‘You know better than that, Carol,’ she said merrily, as if it was the funniest thing she’d heard all day.
    ‘Why not? I’m not a police officer. And you’re the kind of superstar lawyer who’s always got interns running after you, carrying your files and sharpening your pencils. What could be more natural than an ex-cop considering a career in the law?’
    Scott was still grinning. ‘Gamekeeper turned poacher with a vengeance. What’s in it for me? How does it help my client?’
    ‘I have the inside track. Paula’s never going to trust you with confidential information. But spilling the beans to me? That’s second nature to her. Plus you get all the benefits of a shit-hot investigator on your side at no extra charge.’
    Scott shook her head, still unconvinced. ‘It stretches the limits of credibility.’
    ‘That’s never stopped you before. Come on, you know you want to. If only for the look on Fielding’s face. Think of it, Bronwen – you’ll be dining out on that one for months. Especially when she’s forced to release Tony without charge.’
    ‘It’s appealing, I’ll admit. But we’d never get it past the custody sergeant.’
    ‘I thought you liked a challenge?’ Carol’s smile dared Scott.
    ‘Oh, fuck it.’ Again the flip of the hair. ‘Why not? I’ve not had a ruck with a custody sergeant for weeks. I’m getting rusty. Let me get my briefcase and we’ll go and give them hell.’
    They crossed the street side by side like a latter-day Cagney and Lacey. As they were about to walk into the police station, Carol paused and said, ‘There is one thing you should know.’
    Scott looked almost relieved, as if this was the dropping shoe she’d been waiting for. ‘What?’
    ‘Tony and I haven’t actually spoken to each other since the Jacko Vance investigation. I said some pretty harsh things to him. It’s possible he might not be too thrilled to see me.’
    Scott smiled like a gratified cat. ‘This just gets better and better.’

47

    H e stood in the garage doorway and stared at the freezer. He had high hopes of this one. She was, he reckoned, the right raw material for his project. He’d been too hasty, and that had led him into error. He’d been impatient to find the right replacement; he’d forgotten what it took to break a woman in from scratch. Like horses and dogs, it was always easier to work with one that had been taught some of the basics already.
    That was where he’d gone wrong. That Polish bitch didn’t even have a live-in boyfriend. She had no idea of what it took to be a perfect wife. How could she? She couldn’t even speak English properly, for starters. He hated her