Page 14 of Return Ticket

“Electrocuted? On the rail?” He tilted his head.

Solomon worked for British Rail, at least some of the time, and she guessed his mind had gone straight to the trains.

She shook her head. “Some farmer electrified his car so no one can attach a fine to it.”

Solomon laughed, eyes widening, and then they narrowed. “It’s funny, because fines aren’t fun, but it hurt you?”

“It did.” She didn’t have to put up a front here. Solomon was a friend, as well as Mr. Rodney’s nephew.

“Then it’s not funny. You’re just doing your job.” He straightened the sleeves of his dark green jacket, and she noticed a pale green neck scarf knotted around his neck. He was the best dressed person she knew, even beating out Liz. But then, she had a very strong suspicion he had plenty of lucrative sidelines, and some of them were not strictly legal.

“No. It wasn’t funny. But it looks like it isn’t actual illegal, so there’s nothing we can do about it.” She turned toward the stairs. “I’m just going to get an early night.”

“What about the creeper waiting for you outside the station?” Solomon asked. “Who is he?”

She lifted her shoulders again. “Some uppity Hooray Henry. He drives a dark green Jag and has a temper.”

“I’ll tell the boys to look out for a dark green Jag. Got the number plate?” he asked.

She gave it to him, and he nodded.

“If we see him, we’ll let you know.” He walked to the door and gave a final wave as he went out.

She didn’t believe him.

The boys wouldn’t just let her know. They would probably have words with Mr. Jaguar.

And as long as they were able to do it without getting themselves into trouble with the police, she was happy for them to have at it.

chapterseven

“It’stime to go home, Ian,” James said, rubbing at his temple as he rose stiffly from his desk. Ian Hartridge looked up from the smaller desk they’d set up adjacent to James’s larger one and yawned.

“Yeah, we likely won’t get any more done tonight,” Hartridge conceded from behind the hand he held over his mouth. “Ten missing women in the last three months. That seems like a lot.”

“It does.” James stretched and tidied the piles of files he’d been working on. He hoped some of the missing women had already turned up, and the files just hadn’t been updated. “We’ll have to ask the dentists of all ten for their records and compare the dental impressions from our second victim, see what we come up with.” He wouldn’t approach any of the family members of the missing women until there was more evidence.

But the dentists would likely take their time, and he had a feeling that time wasn’t something they had in abundance. If the two deaths were connected, the man responsible would strike again, of that, he was sure.

Hartridge scraped his chair back and yawned again, then froze, his gaze on someone in the passageway outside James’s office.

They’d left the door open, and James moved around his desk to see who had had such an effect on his constable.

He’d been expecting to see his boss, DI Whetford, lurking outside, but it was DS Galbraith leaning against the wall opposite his door, lighting a cigarette, as if he was waiting for them to come out.

“You looking for me, Galbraith?” James asked, shrugging into his coat and looping a scarf over his head.

He saw Galbraith’s gaze flick to Hartridge and then he straightened and looked directly at James. “Just lighting my fag,” he said, blowing out a stream of smoke. “You were away, weren’t you?”

“For a couple of weeks,” James acknowledged. Galbraith had never said so many words in a row to James since he’d started at the Met eight months ago.

“Well, see you around.” Galbraith directed another quick look at Hartridge, then ambled to the stairs and disappeared through the stairwell doors.

“What’s going on, Ian?” James asked, when the door swung shut with a snick.

Hartridge shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t know what’s up with him.”

He was lying, but James thought it was out of fear and a wish to shield James from whatever it was that Whetford had sucked Hartridge into. Galbraith was obviously part of it, and that was a new and interesting fact. He’d known Whetford was bent for a while, but he hadn’t got a handle on who above or below him was also dodgy.

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