Dancing Towards the Blade and Other Stories Page 7

  ‘You’d be getting pissed off with smartarse detectives who think they know it all.’

  ‘Really?’ Binns feigned a shocked expression. ‘What type did you used to be then?’

  Thorne wrapped his hand around the old-fashioned metal bedstead and squeezed. ‘I want to get the HAT car round,’ he said.

  It was the job of detectives on the Homicide Assessment Team to evaluate any possible crime scene and to collect vital evidence where necessary before handing the case over. It was solely their decision as to whether or not a ‘sudden’ death had occurred. A suspicious death.

  ‘Well, you know how that works.’ Binns walked across and leaned back against a wall next to an old-fashioned dressing table. ‘Different system these days. Between your lot and my lot, I mean. Different to your day anyway, I would have thought.’

  ‘You’d have thought right,’ Thorne said.

  Your day. Nearly twenty-five years since Tom Thorne had pulled on the ‘Queen’s Cloth’ every day to go to work. Since he’d worn a uniform.

  Crisp white shirt with his two shiny inspector’s pips on the epaulettes.

  Black, clip-on tie.

  The fucking cap …

  ‘It’s my decision,’ Binns said. ‘Whether or not to bring the HAT team in.’

  ‘I know how it works,’ Thorne said.

  Binns told him anyway. ‘Only a Detective Inspector can make that call.’

  ‘Got it,’ Thorne said. ‘So, on you go.’ Binns had been right to suggest that the procedure had been somewhat different two decades earlier. The protocol a little more flexible. The chain of command not followed quite so religiously. There might have been a few less backsides covered, but it was certainly quicker.

  ‘Frankly, I can’t really see the point.’

  ‘Can’t you?’ Thorne said.

  ‘That stuff about the false teeth is near enough laughable and I don’t think anyone’s going to give a toss where the insulin came from.’ Binns cast an eye around the room and shrugged. ‘I pull Homicide in here and they’re only going to say the same thing, aren’t they? You know, we both end up looking like idiots.’

  ‘All the same,’ Thorne said, ‘I’d be happier if you made the call.’

  Binns shook his head. ‘Not going to happen.’

  ‘Right,’ Thorne said. He could feel the blood rising to his face. ‘Because of where you are and where I am. Prick …’

  Binns reddened too, just a little, but otherwise gave a good impression of being impervious to an insult he’d clearly been on the receiving end of before. ‘You think whatever you like, pal, but I’m not going to waste anybody else’s time just because you’re seeing murders where there aren’t any.’ He walked towards the door, then turned. ‘Maybe you should have taken a bit more time off after what happened. Maybe you should have chucked it in altogether. King of all cock-ups, that one.’

  Thorne could not really argue, so did not bother trying.

  ‘Take this up with the MIT boys if you want,’ Binns said, gesturing back towards the bed. ‘We’ve got a Murder Investigation Team at Lewisham, haven’t we? A nice big one.’

  A team just like the one Thorne used to be part of. ‘Yeah, well, I might just do that.’

  ‘I mean it’s up to you, if you want even more people taking the piss.’

  Thorne was suddenly more aware than usual of the various pro-active items attached to his Met vest.

  Cuffs, baton, CS gas …

  ‘I’ll be off then,’ Binns said, straightening his cuffs one final time. ‘Leave you to wind this up.’

  The detective turned away and was checking his BlackBerry again as he walked out of the bedroom.

  Thorne took half a minute, let his breathing return to normal, then bellowed for Woodley. He told her to contact Lothian and Borders police and get someone to deliver the death message to the Coopers’ son in Edinburgh. He told her to find out if the dead couple had any other children, and, if so, to make sure the message was delivered to them wherever they were. He told her to stay put until the on-call Coroner’s officer arrived.

  ‘Try not to disturb anything in this room though,’ he said.

  ‘Not just yet.’

  Woodley raised an eyebrow. ‘Guv.’

  Thorne took one last look round, grabbed his raincoat and cap then hurried downstairs and out to the car. No more than a few minutes with the blues and twos to the Kidbourne and if things were still lively he really felt like wading in. There was every chance he would find himself on the end of a smack or two, but it could not make him feel any worse.