Page 5 of Dead Fall

But then surely the cops would be all over details like that? Or not. She pushed her plate away, her green curry half eaten.

‘No signs of foul play though?’ Archie asked. He put his head on one side. ‘It’s bothering you, I can see.’

She bit her lip trying to decide how much to tell him. ‘I knew her at school.’

‘You were friends?’

Shaking her head, she stood to clear her plate and get another beer out of the fridge. How to explain the Year 10 politics at her all-girls’ state school – the rival cliques, the brutal food chain with mean girls and bullies as apex predators, and at the bottom, girls like her and Sophia who just didn’t fit in.

Sophia leaving suddenly like she did wasn’t my fault, she told herself.

Once Cassie might have put in a call to DS Phyllida Flyte to discuss the case, but the last time she’d spoken to the uptight cop was six months ago. Since then she had left the Met after her unofficial investigation into a fellow officer had almost ended in her death. Flyte was now working as an investigator for the Independent Office for Police Conduct, the body that looked into complaints against the cops. Which, given the tsunami of stories emerging about the behaviour of Met officers, would be keeping her nice and busy.

Getting a vivid image of some dodgy cop on the business end of Flyte’s icy stare, Cassie smiled for the first time that day.

FLYTE

Earlier that day, former Detective Sergeant Phyllida Flyte had faced her first big test in her new role. She’d felt nervous, but not in a bad way: more than fifteen years in the Job had taught her that a dash of anxiety could give you an edge over your opponent.

And having seen the case file, opponent was precisely the word she’d use to describe PC Ashley Skinner.

Flyte was sitting opposite Skinner and her Police Federation rep for her first interview as an investigator for the Independent Office for Police Conduct. To Flyte’s left sat her mentor William Wentworth, veteran investigator and former prosecution barrister.

The interview room was a far cry from the bare and brutal version found at the average nick – it was painted a soothing pastel peach colour and had framed prints on the wall – for crying out loud.

After reading the misconduct caution, Flyte looked up from her file and tried to smile. ‘As you are aware, this interview is in relation to Katya Adamsky’s contact with police and specifically your actions prior to her murder by her husband Pawel. If we decide there is a case to answer you may be referred to a misconduct meeting or hearing which could result in disciplinary proceedings.’

A glance at William to ensure she’d got the legalese right. ‘But all that aside, we just need to establish what happened here.’

Ashley nodded fervently. ‘You and me both,’ she said, pulling her best helpful smile. Flyte noticed she’d had her teeth whitened, probably for the interview.

Ashley’s conduct was being investigated for her actions – or more accurately, inaction – in a domestic abuse case that had ended with thirty-one-year-old Katya Adamsky being stabbed, strangled and – just for completeness’ sake – battered to death by her husband.

‘You were aware that Katya had previously called police about her husband’s behaviour before you first attended their address?’

‘Yes, but she never said he hit her. That didn’t come out till his trial.’

‘Hmm.’ Flyte referred to her notes ‘Nonetheless there was a history of disturbances at the marital home, including neighbours reporting a man repeatedly shouting, “I’m going to kill you.” And when you went the first time, it was because Katya had called police to say she was “frightened of her husband”. Correct?’

‘Yes, but when we attended she said she wanted to withdraw the complaint.’

Flyte sent her an acid smile. ‘Hardly uncommon among victims of abuse, especially if the perpetrator is still in the house. So when you turned up with PC Dodds, you interviewed them.’ She glanced at her notes with a frown. ‘Separately?’

‘That’s right.’ Ashley nodded.

‘According to your notes she didn’t complain of any violence? But you saw fresh fingermarks on her neck, throttle marks. How did she say she’d got them?’

‘She said it was a sex game they played.’

‘Right.’ Flyte paused and turned a page of her file. ‘The husband said the same thing to PC Dodds. In exactly the same words.’

Another nod.

‘But according to both your notebooks, these exchanges with Katya and her husband took place at exactly the same time, 11.15 p.m. – in their kitchen-diner.’ Putting her head on one side Flyte asked, ‘How big is that room, Ashley?’

She pulled an uncomfortable shrug. ‘I couldn’t tell you.’

‘Well, I can tell you that having visited the scene and measured it myself, it is three and a half metres long by two and a half metres wide. So it’s clear that you interviewed Katya within earshot of the man who’d inflicted her neck injury.’

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