Blood on the Cowley Road (DI Susan Holden 1)

‘Yes, sorry, I should have offered you some.’

‘Bless you,’ Lawson smiled again.

‘Bless you!’ Wilson said after Knight had scurried out of the room. ‘I don’t remember that in my training course.’

‘I learnt in from my Dad,’ she grinned. ‘It’s very effective.’

‘Is he a vicar?’

‘Now, that would be telling,’ she teased.

Ronald Knight returned a couple of minutes later with a tray of coffee in his hands and a young, nervous-looking woman at his back. She was dressed in black trousers and white blouse, with a fine gold chain round her neck, and a tiny gold stud through her left-hand nostril.

‘This is Sunita,’ he said. ‘It was she who served Mr Mace with the £500.’

‘Thank you, Mr Knight!’ Wilson said warmly, rising from his chair. ‘Please sit down, Sunita,’ he continued, gesturing to a chair and at the same time so positioning himself that Knight knew that his own presence was not needed. ‘We’ll give you a shout, Mr Knight, when we are finished.’

‘How do you like your coffee, Sunita,’ Lawson was saying as Wilson shut the door. ‘Milk? Sugar?’

‘Just milk,’ she said. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, Lawson noted as she poured some milk into each of their cups. She realized that she didn’t know if Wilson took milk, but frankly now wasn’t the time to ask him. He’d have to like it or lump it.

‘I like the stud,’ said Lawson.

‘Thank you,’ came the reply.

‘I really do. I wish I could wear one, but my boss would never approve.’

‘Oh!’ Sunita said, and glanced across at Wilson, who was doing his best to be the proverbial fly on the wall.

‘Oh, not him!’ Lawson giggled. ‘He’s just my driver!’

Sunita giggled in return, while Wilson stiffened slightly, feeling that WPC Lawson was overdoing it.

‘Can I be very personal?’ Lawson said, leaning forward conspiratorily. ‘You’ve got a really lovely complexion. What do you use?’ The conversation continued like this for some time. Wilson was reminded of his sister and her friend Mandy’s after-school discussions. As he sipped his coffee, he allowed his memory to float to times gone by, to sitting in front of the TV while the two girls chattered on and rubbed apricot-smelling moisturiser into each other’s faces, while he pretended not to listen.

‘So,’ Lawson was saying with great reluctance, ‘I suppose we’d better talk about the 500 pounds. Otherwise your Mr Knight is going to wonder why it’s all taking so long.’

‘He’s probably counting the minutes on his watch,’ Sunita said with a grin. ‘He’s very strict on our coffee breaks, you know. Fifteen minutes maximum.’

‘In that case, we’d better get down to it,’ Lawson replied. ‘First of all, when did Mr Mace take out the money?’

&nb

sp; ‘Yesterday afternoon. Round about 2.15, 2.30.’

‘So, you remember serving him?’ Lawson asked off-handedly.

‘Oh, yes! He comes in quite often. Usually to pay money in. He’s got his own business. Drives a lorry, I think he said once.’

‘And do you remember how he was?’

‘Oh yes!’ she said again. ‘He was in a foul mood. Really foul. I knew that as soon as he opened his mouth. Normally he’s very cheerful. “Hello darling!” he’d say. Or “Hello duck,” sometimes. I remember the first time he said it, I said to him what did he mean, because I was no duck, and I didn’t take kindly to being called one. And he was very apologetic, and he said calling someone duck was, like, friendly. His mum was always calling people duck, and he had just picked up the habit. And then he had winked at me, and asked me what was wrong with being called duck because he always thought ducks were the nicest of all birds. And I said well in that case I didn’t really mind. Anyway, he didn’t call me duck this time, and he didn’t call me darling or anything. He just handed over his chequebook with a cheque made out for £500 and said he needed cash. “Going off on holiday, are you?” I said, or something like that, but he just said “Get on with it”. So I did.’

She paused, looking up at Lawson as if for approval. Lawson nodded encouragingly. ‘So he was quite aggressive then?’

Sunita pursed her lips – rather attractively Wilson thought – as she considered this. ‘I’m not sure aggressive is quite right. Anxious perhaps. Very anxious. Edgy.’

‘That’s very helpful,’ Lawson said. ‘Thank you.’