Tony Hill u Carol Jordan 08 - Cross and Burn

first crack at the victim’s possessions. But if Fielding thought she could defuse her by putting her in the little woman box, she was going to have another think coming. ‘Ma’am,’ she said.
    ‘What about time of death?’ Fielding was already on to the next thing.
    Grisha took hold of the woman and gently rolled her on to her stomach. ‘Let’s see what she has to tell us.’ He opened the plastic satchel he always brought to crime scenes and took out a thermometer. He parted her legs slightly so he could take a rectal temperature reading. Then Paula heard his breath hiss over his teeth. ‘Jesus Christ,’ he said. Grisha seldom showed any emotion, but the disgust was obvious in his tone.
    ‘What is it?’ Fielding demanded.
    Grisha bent forward and stared intently between the woman’s legs. He reached out gingerly with one finger. ‘I thought I’d seen everything.’ His voice was so quiet Paula could barely hear him.
    ‘What is it, Grisha?’ she asked, laying a hand on his shoulder.
    He shook his head. ‘It looks like he’s superglued her labia together.’

11

    B y late morning, Marie had a list of questions for Rob Morrison. In her experience, there was no point in holding back out of a misplaced sense of politeness. She needed answers so she could make a start on the strategic developments she’d been hired to initiate and see through. Worrying whether Rob would take her enquiries as subtle criticisms wasn’t helpful. If his finer feelings were going to stand in the way of progress, he’d better develop a thicker skin, she thought. And quickly.
    So she double-checked the handwritten list she’d made – always better to write down a list of questions; they had a tendency to stick in the mind that way and they were less likely to fall through the cracks during the discussion – and bustled across the open-plan area to Rob’s office.
    Marie scanned the room as she went, taking note of who had their head down, talking on the phone or frowning at their screen, and who was staring into space or leaning back in their chair chatting to the person in the next carrel. She wasn’t about to start anything as crude as a time-and-motion study any time soon, but it was never too soon to begin gathering impressions of the staff. Gareth, for example. He might well be one of the most productive employees, but right now he was paying no attention to work. He was half-turned away from his screen, chatting to a smug-looking bloke in a pink shirt and khaki chinos, hair immaculately groomed. Even from across the room she could make out the Ralph Lauren Polo logo. She’d have put money on him reeking of aftershave or cologne. She hadn’t noticed him earlier when she’d been introduced to the floor, and she thought she would have if he’d been there. She knew his type and she didn’t like it.
    Dismissing him from her mind, she walked through Rob’s open door to find him at his computer, mouse clicking as furiously as if he was in the throes of some annoying computer game. ‘Have you got a minute?’ she asked.
    He immediately stopped what he was doing and before she could possibly have seen his screen, he closed the window he was working in. ‘Sure. Is there a problem?’
    ‘I need to go through some of our procedures,’ Marie said, drawing a chair up at right angles to his desk. ‘I want to be clear how we’re doing things at present so I can work out where we can make strategic improvements.’
    He nodded enthusiastically, rubbing his chin then tugging his earlobe. He was, she realised, one of those people who can’t stop touching their face. It made her want to avoid touching anything he’d touched. He smoothed one eyebrow and scratched the side of his nose. ‘Makes perfect sense,’ he said.
    They had barely made a start when Ralph Lauren Man swaggered into the room. He let his eyes slide over Marie, lingering on her breasts and her legs before turning his attention to Rob. ‘Are you up for tonight?’ he said, his tone almost accusatory rather than inviting.
    Rob gave him what appeared to be a warning frown. ‘Nige, I’d like you to meet Marie Mather, our new Director of Marketing. Marie, this is Nigel Dean. He’s one of the boffins from upstairs. Software development for our data-gathering systems.’
    Nigel inclined his head towards her. ‘We’re Big Brother,’ he said. ‘The one that is watching you, that is, not the one that you watch on your telly. We manage data for everything