‘And what makes you think that? You’ve just barged into my crime scene,’ said Dr Masters.
‘This man was bludgeoned to death with a marble ashtray and he has an arse full of semen,’ said Sparks. ‘It looks like one of ours. We’ll take it from here.’ He beckoned to an officer. ‘Can you take this woman out to one of the support vehicles? She needs to be questioned about her apparent tip-off about the crime scene.’
‘It’s DCI Foster and—’ started Erika, before she felt a hand grip her tightly on the arm. ‘Okay, okay. You don’t need to manhandle me. I can see the door. I’m coming out.’
The officer clad in blue crime scene overalls walked her out. Even though just her eyes were on show, Erika knew everyone could see she felt deeply humiliated.
57
Much as when high-level doctors are forced to become patients, DCI Foster didn’t take kindly to being questioned by uniformed officers in one of the police support vans. The rain continued hammering down outside, hitting the metal roof of the van with a roar.
Two male officers, DI Wilkinson and DI Roberts, sat across from her at a table, whilst a female uniformed officer with chestnut brown hair scraped back off her youthful face watched from the open door.
‘So what made Isaac Strong call you before he had even placed a call to 999?’ asked DI Wilkinson. He had a thin, ratty face and teeth to match.
‘He was frightened. He was in shock,’ replied Erika.
‘So you’re close? Are you in a relationship with Isaac Strong?’ asked DI Roberts. He was blond and handsome in comparison to his colleague.
‘No, he’s just a friend,’ said Erika.
‘Just good friends?’ said DI Roberts, raising an eyebrow. ‘Nothing more?’
‘Is this the extent of your detective work, sussing out who's shagging who?’
‘Answer the question, Ms Foster,’ demanded DI Wilkinson.
‘I’ve told you twice already, it’s DCI Foster,’ she said, pulling out her ID and slapping it on the table in front of them. ‘I’ve been investigating a double murder where an intruder broke in and asphyxiated both victims by placing a plastic bag over their heads. Both victims were male. You’ve probably heard about it: the victims were Dr Gregory Munro and Jack Hart. I am the SIO on the case and Dr Isaac Strong is the forensic pathologist. I also know Dr Strong outside work. We occasionally socialise, as friends, and I know him to be gay. Now, it seems, our personal and professional lives have intertwined in that Isaac’s partner, Stephen Linley, is the man lying upstairs with his head caved in. Dr Strong was understandably distressed when he found him and he phoned me. When you listen back to the transcript of that call, you will hear me clearly state that he must call 999. I then ended the call and came to the scene. I can tell you that the bag used in the previous murders is a very specific item, and I believe this same bag was used to kill Stephen Linley. Now, you’d better start listening to me, and being more respectful, because in a few hours, if you’re still on this case, you’ll be taking orders from me.’
She sat back and eyeballed the two officers. An uneasy look passed between them.
‘Very good, ma’am,’ said Wilkinson, who looked embarrassed.
‘Now, do you have any more questions you would like to ask me?’
‘I think that’s all good for now,’ said Roberts.
‘Thank you. I’d like to talk to Dr Strong, please. Where is he?’ asked Erika.
The officer on the door looked up from speaking into her radio.
‘That was Control,’ she said. I’ve just been told DCI Sparks has left Superintendent Nickson at the scene and has taken Dr Isaac Strong to Charing Cross nick.’
‘Taken him?’ asked Erika. ‘Has he been arrested? Or did he go voluntarily?’
The officer repeated the question into her radio, and there was a pause, some clicks and beeps, then the voice came back confirming that Isaac had been arrested for the suspected murder of Stephen Linley.
58
Erika hesitated before she reached out and banged the large brass door knocker. She stood back and looked up at the dark house. The rain had been replaced by a cold wind, and even though she was still soaking wet, the chill was a welcome change after the heatwave. She pulled her denim jacket closed and was about to knock again when the small window by the front door lit up.
‘Who is it?’ asked Marsh, brusquely.
‘Boss, it’s Erika, DCI Foster.’
‘What the bloody hell?’ she heard him mutter as several bolts shot home, two locks were turned and he finally pulled the front door open. He was wearing nothing but boxer shorts.