Tony Hill u Carol Jordan 08 - Cross and Burn

Making her team love her was a priority; getting the pathologist to go the extra mile hadn’t been.
    Paula made her way through the bustle of officers discussing the briefing to Fielding’s side. ‘Morning, McIntyre,’ Fielding said absently, flicking through a bundle of papers. ‘Give me ten minutes to deal with this lot and we’ll head out.’
    ‘I need to talk to the duty inspector in uniform first, ma’am.’ Paula was at her most conciliatory. ‘The misper I caught on my way in yesterday. I have to brief them, make sure they’re taking it seriously.’
    Fielding’s perfectly groomed eyebrows rose. ‘Any reason why they wouldn’t take it seriously?’
    Paula knew she had to tread carefully. She was the new girl here; she had no idea where the political lines were drawn in this nick. ‘No reason. But I know the misper, ma’am. Her son gave me the key to their house. I wanted to pass it on personally. Just so they know I’ve got an interest. And so I can give them a backgrounder.’
    ‘Have you been poking your nose in where you shouldn’t, McIntyre? You’re not with the MIT any more. We respect each other’s boundaries in this nick. Have you not got enough on your plate with a murder that you have to do uniform’s job for them?’ Fielding didn’t bother to lower her voice. The officers nearest them pretended not to notice, but Paula knew it was all sinking in. She could feel her ears burning.
    ‘Like I said. I know the misper. Her son is staying with us for the time being.’
    Fielding froze in the middle of turning a page. ‘Are we talking minor here?’
    ‘He’s fourteen.’
    Fielding stared at her as if she was mad. ‘What were you thinking? You should have called social services. Or a relative. Last time I looked, you weren’t on the list of appropriate adults.’
    Righteous indignation was in danger of trumping good sense. ‘His nearest relatives are in Bristol. His dad’s in the army, in Afghanistan. I considered he was less at risk in my spare room than in an emergency placement.’ She paused. ‘Ma’am.’ She couldn’t make Fielding out. Where was her compassion? This woman was a mother. If anyone should understand Paula’s reasoning, it was someone who had a kid of their own.
    Fielding gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Go and brief the duty inspector, then. And make it quick. We’ve got a murder here and that takes precedence over everything else.’ She waved a hand at Paula in a gesture of impatient dismissal. Paula was halfway to the door when Fielding called after her. ‘And if you plan on carrying on with the child-minding, for Christ’s sake get consent from the relatives. I don’t want to have to arrest you and your girlfriend for unlawful imprisonment.’
    Someone guffawed, another sniggered. Welcome to Skenfrith Street, Paula thought bitterly. The home of modern policing.

    Dean Hume, the duty inspector, had the mangled ears, thick neck and asymmetric nose of a rugby player who had never shirked in the scrum. His scalp had a five o’clock shadow that revealed his male pattern baldness and his eyes nestled in tired grey folds of skin. He inhabited a tiny glassed-in cubicle in a corner of the main squad room. His computer monitor was the size of a bedside cabinet and it was surrounded by stacks of file folders. His white shirt was already wilting under the pressure of work. When Paula explained why she was there and what she had discovered at Bev’s house, he looked as thrilled as Fielding had. ‘You used to be on the MIT team, right?’
    Paula was starting to get tired of this. ‘That’s right, sir. DCI Jordan’s firm.’
    ‘You were a bit of a law unto yourselves there.’ To her surprise, Hume smiled. ‘Got some good results, though.’
    ‘We did, sir. We thought we were bloody good value for money.’
    He grunted. ‘Shame the brass didn’t agree. The thing is, Sarge, we’re a bit more by the book here. DCI Fielding runs a tight ship. And she gets results too. So if you’re going to go off piste, you’ll need to be discreet about it.’ It was a warning, but in the friendliest of terms.
    For the first time since she’d arrived at Skenfrith Street, Paula felt part of a team. Shame it was the wrong team. ‘Thanks, sir. I’ll bear that in mind. As far as Bev Andrews is concerned, I typed up a full report of my actions and the information I gathered. It should give your officers a head start. Who should I email it to?’
    He gave her the details of