They heard voices by the police cordon and the beep of a radio. They moved over to where DCI Hudson, a small woman with a bob of fine blonde hair, was standing with Superintendent Sparks, a tall thin man with a long, pale face pockmarked with acne scars. His greasy black hair was swept back off his forehead, and his suit was grubby.
‘Erika. What are you doing here? The last I heard you were in a galaxy far far away,’ he said.
‘I’m in Bromley,’ replied Erika.
‘Same thing.’
DCI Hudson stifled a grin.
‘Yes. All very funny,’ said Erika. ‘Just like the dead girl who’s been beaten to death and left in the dumpster over there…’
Hudson and Sparks stopped smirking.
‘Erika was just helping us out. The weather was holding things up, and she lives locally,’ explained Moss.
‘She was with me when I got the call. I also live locally,’ started Peterson, but Erika shot him a look.
‘I see,’ said Sparks, noticing the look. He paused, as if he was filing it away in his mind for later use against her, then moved to the police tape, lifting it with a black gloved hand.
‘Make sure you hand in your crime scene overalls, Erika. Then wait for me outside. We need to have a little chat.’
Moss and Peterson went to say more, but Erika gave them a small shake of her head and moved off towards the police cordon.
Chapter Three
Erika left the crime scene, and moved further up the street, pacing up and down in the pool of orange cast by one of the streetlights. The snow was whirling in thick flurries, and she hunkered down, turning up the collar of her jacket, her hands thrust deep into the pockets. She felt powerless, watching from the sidelines as a black van belonging to the CSIs parked on the pavement directly in front of the police cordon. Despite the freezing temperature, she didn’t want to go back to her car. In the glove compartment was a packet of cigarettes she’d kept for emergencies. She’d given up some months ago, but in times of stress, still felt the gnawing of nicotine cravings. However, she refused to let Sparks be the reason for her caving in and lighting up. He emerged from the gates a few minutes later, and walked up to her.
‘Erika, why are you here?’ he said. Under the streetlight, she noticed his hair had streaks of grey, and he appeared gaunt.
‘I told you, I was made aware that DCI Hudson was delayed.’
‘Who made you aware?’
Erika hesitated, ‘I was with Peterson when he got the call, but I’d like to stress it’s not his fault. I didn’t give him much choice in the matter.’
‘You were with him?’
‘Yes…’
‘Enjoying a bit of strange were you?’ he said with a smirk. Despite the freezing air, Erika felt warmth flush her cheeks.
‘That’s none of your business.’
‘And my crime scene is none of your business. I’m in charge of the Murder Investigation Teams. You don’t work for me, and you’re not welcome. So why don’t you fuck off.’
Erika moved close and looked him in the eye. ‘What did you just say?’ His breath smelt stale and acidic.
‘You heard me, Erika. Fuck off. You’re not here to help, you’re just meddling. I know you’ve put in for a transfer back to one of the Murder Investigation Teams. The irony. Considering you made such a stand, quitting when I was promoted over you.’
Erika stared back at him. She knew that he hated her, but in the past a thin veil of politeness had covered their dealings.
‘Don’t you dare speak to me like that again,’ she said.
‘Don’t speak to me like that again, sir.’
‘You know, Sparks, you might have been handed your superior rank by brown nosing, but you have to earn authority,’ said Erika, holding his gaze. The snow was coming down heavier, in large fibrous chunks, which stuck to his suit jacket. She refused to blink or look away. A uniformed officer approached them, and Sparks was forced to break his gaze.
‘What is it?’ he snapped.
‘Sir. The crime scene manager is here, and we’ve got the guy who runs the kitchen showroom coming down so we can run our lights off his grid.’
‘I want you off my crime scene,’ said Sparks. He strode back towards the police tape with the officer, their shoes leaving fresh prints in the snow.
* * *
Erika took a deep breath and composed herself, feeling tears prick her eyes.
‘Stop it, he’s just another arsehole at work,’ she scolded. ‘You could be the one lying in that dumpster.’
She wiped the tears from her face and started back to her car, passing a squad car with its interior lights on. The windows were starting to steam up, and inside she could just make out three young people: two girls in the back, and a young blond boy in the front. The boy was leaning through the seats, and they were deep in conversation. Erika slowed and came to a stop.
‘Oh fuck it,’ she said.
She turned and walked back up to the car. Checking there was no one else around, she knocked on the window and then opened the door, flashing her warrant card.
‘Are you the students who found the body?’ she asked. They looked up at her and nodded, their faces still in shock. They looked no older than eighteen. ‘Have you spoken to an officer yet?’ she added, leaning into the car.
‘No, we’ve been here for ages; just been told to wait, but we’re frozen,’ said the young guy.
‘My car’s on the other side of the road. Let’s have a chat with the heating on,’ said Erika.
Chapter Four
Erika adjusted the dials in her car, until warm air came blasting out of the vents. The young boy sat next to her, in the passenger seat, rubbing at his bare arms. He was blond and thin with bad skin, and wore a T-shirt and a thin jacket with jeans. The two girls were in the back. The first sat behind Erika, and she was beautiful with caramel-coloured skin. She wore jeans, a red jumper, and a purple hijab fastened at the left side of her neck with a silver butterfly pin. Next to her, the second girl was short and plump, with a bob of brown hair. Her two front teeth were prominent, which gave her face a rabbit-like appearance, and she wore a grubby peach-coloured towelling dressing gown.
‘Can I take your names?’ asked Erika, pulling a notebook from her bag, and resting it on the steering wheel.
‘I’m Josh McCaul,’ said the boy.
She scrubbed at the paper, her pen not working.
‘Can you see if there’s another one in the glove compartment?’ asked Erika.
He leaned forward to check and his T-shirt rode up at the back to show a tattoo of a cannabis leaf at the base of his spine. He raked through the old sweet packets and her emergency Marlboro lights, and handed her a biro. ‘Can I have one of these?’ he added, finding a half-full bag of mini Mars bars.
‘Help yourself,’ she said. ‘Do you two want one?’
‘No,’ said the girl with the hijab, adding that her name was Aashirya Khan. The second girl also refused chocolate.
‘I’m Rachel Dawkes, spelt without the “a”…’
‘She means the Rachel is without the “a”, not Dawkes. She’s got a real thing about that,’ said Josh, unwrapping his second mini Mars.
Rachel pursed her lips in disapproval and rearranged the folds of her dressing gown.
‘Do you all rent the flat next to the kitchen showroom?’ asked Erika.