Page 9 of First Blood
Bryant placed his overcoat on the back of the door and then took the desk closest to the bowl, with his back to it.
Stacey removed her satchel and took the one across the aisle from him and so they were both facing the door.
Kim idly wondered at DCI Woodward’s logic at giving her two detectives at opposing ends of the career ladder. It would be just her luck that she had one who knew nothing and another who didn’t want to do anything except twiddle his thumbs right up to retirement.
She found herself praying for something in her last team member. Just as another face appeared at the door.
Her heart sank. Never touching the stuff, she could smell the alcohol on him and it wasn’t from his aftershave.
Before speaking his eyes swept the room dismissively and rested on her. She caught the quick up and down and she did the same thing.
What she noted immediately was the navy trousers crumpled at the knees and the crotch. The light blue shirt had a mark to the right of his bright pink spotted tie; the knot of which appeared to be keeping a respectful distance from his open shirt collar.
And if he’d shaved he’d done it in the dark. Only his dark brown hair appeared to have turned up ready for work.
Kim knew she was seeing the Sunday night version of the man and not the Monday morning model.
He slapped his right hand against his temple in a mock salute and smiled.
‘Detective Sergeant Dawson reporting for duty, Marm.’
She saw Bryant’s cringe and shake of the head from the corner of her eye, and the detective constable didn’t seem to know where to look.
Aah, confidence. She liked that in a person, provided it was substantiated by ability and results and that it didn’t cross the line into arrogance.
‘Not Marm, thank you,’ she said, calmly. ‘And pick a desk.’
Unsurprisingly he chose the one that he was closest to, which was nearest to the door and faced Stacey.
She took another sip of coffee as the other two introduced themselves across the room.
She noted that the young detective sergeant took a drink from the cardboard tray without either a request or an acknowledgment. And the detective constable had taken nothing.
‘Okay,’ she said, perching on the edge of the spare desk, ‘right now, we appear to have no active…’
Her words trailed away as a phone rang. They all looked around.
‘It’s me,’ said Bryant, reaching for the handset.
He listened, eyebrows raised and thanked the caller before replacing the receiver.
‘Looks like we have got a case after all. Body found on the west side of the Clent Hills.’
She gauged their facial reactions as she stood. Bryant – expectant and alert. Stacey – fearful. Dawson – excited and almost salivating.
‘Who’s going, guv?’ Bryant asked.
‘Well, seeing as I barely know your names yet, never mind any of your strengths and weaknesses, I guess we’ll all go.’
Bryant reached for the receiver.
‘Shall I call for a squad car to take?…’
‘No one here drives a car?’ she asked, looking around. Squad cars had better things to do than ferry detectives around.
Stacey shook her head.
Dawson looked horrified.
