‘As you know,’ Hannah said, ‘this was a particularly brutal attack. Do you know of anyone who might have a reason for doing this to Joey?’
Myra laughed uproariously. A humourless laugh that ended in tears of drunken anguish rolling down her cheeks.
‘No,’ she said finally. ‘Everyone loved Joey. He was a good boy. The best. And anyone who says different is a twat.’
The pre-emptive insult was laid out as a barrier against any attempt by Hannah to challenge Joey’s angelic credentials.
‘Have we met before?’ Ronan asked suddenly.
A bad feeling scurried across Hannah’s shoulders. ‘Not that I recall.’ At any other time she might have said it was likely because of all the police stations that Ronan had been dragged into, but right now that didn’t seem appropriate.
‘You look familiar,’ he said. ‘What was your name again?’
‘Detective Inspector Hannah Washington.’
‘Right.’
He didn’t pursue it. Hannah exchanged glances with Marcel before continuing.
‘So you’re not aware of any altercations he might have been involved in, any threats made against him?’
‘No,’ Myra said.
Hannah was on the verge of giving up and leaving, but then Marcel added his voice.
‘Any idea where Joey might have gone over the weekend? Who he might have visited?’
‘Joey was a big boy. He didn’t need to check in with me every five minutes.’
‘So that’s a no, then?’
The sarcasm penetrated even Myra’s drunken aura. ‘I don’t like your tone, lad.’ She slapped her armband. ‘My son has been cut up into tiny pieces. He was everything to me. So don’t you go—’
‘Got it!’ Ronan said, snapping his fingers. ‘You’re the one who put Tommy Glover away.’
Hannah’s insides tightened. ‘I worked on the case. I didn’t make the arrest.’
‘That’s right. They took you off it, didn’t they? After you threw his girlfriend under a train.’
Heat blazed in Hannah’s cheeks. ‘That’s not what happened. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to—’
‘What?’ Myra said. ‘It was her? She’s the copper who—’ She rose suddenly, jettisoning her chair backwards. ‘Get out! Get out of my house!’
‘Mrs Cobb, if we can be sensible about—’
‘Get out! NOW!’
Hannah and Marcel stood up and gathered their belongings. They headed for the door, closely herded by Myra, who was still screaming in their ears.
‘How dare you come here? How dare they send a killer to my door? Why don’t I get a proper copper like everyone else, eh? What is it, are we not good enough, is that it? Bloody murdering bitch. You shouldn’t even be allowed to direct traffic. I can’t believe you’ve still got a job . . .’
Hannah marched as quickly as she could back to the lane where the car was parked. She needed the words to fade into the distance. She wanted to scream to drown them out. She needed to get in the car and drive away and never come back again, not to this house or the police station or anywhere people knew her.
She reached the car and grabbed the door handle. Found it wouldn’t open.
‘Boss—’ Marcel said.
‘Unlock it.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘Unlock the fucking door, will you?’
He blipped his key fob and she yanked the door open and jumped in and ordered him to get her the hell out of there.
15
Alone in her office, the ability to focus on work gambolled beyond her grasp. Her door was partially open, and from the CID room across the corridor came the ringing of phones and the slamming of file cabinet drawers, which were fine, but also the buzz of conversation punctuated by laughter, which was not. Were they talking about her? She kept telling herself that Marcel wouldn’t have said anything about her behaviour at the farmhouse, and yet she could just imagine them making jokes at her expense.
First day on the case, she thought, and already I’m a laughing stock. They think I’m useless. And maybe I am. Why did I let Myra Cobb get to me like that?
She thought about Devereux, and the brass above Devereux. About how big their smiles would be if they knew about this.
First day in, and already it’s going to shit.
A knock on her door, and Marcel poked his head round. She told him to come in and close the door. She started speaking before giving him a chance.
‘About what happened earlier—’ she began.
