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Fatal Witness (Detective Erika Foster #7)(20)

Author:Robert Bryndza

‘You’ll need a bloody good reason to bring him in for questioning,’ said Marsh. ‘And questioning him in relation to that bloody cat killer case.’

‘The official name of the investigation is Operation Figtree,’ said Erika. Marsh shook his head, now red in the face.

‘The results of Operation Figtree ruled that foxes were killing those cats. Foxes, of which there are thousands in London. Do you know how much bloody money and police manpower that cost? Millions!’

‘Yes, but—’

Marsh leant over the table and stabbed his finger in the air.

‘If I hear you’ve arrested the Assistant Commissioner’s brother in relation to—’

‘Operation Figtree,’ finished Erika, feeling a spark of enjoyment at Marsh’s almost Hitler-esque rant.

‘If I hear that you’ve arrested him as a fucking cat killer, your career will be over, Erika. I mean it!’

‘I do think he could be involved with this murder.’

‘Every development in this case pertaining to Charles Wakefield, however small, will have to go through me and Melanie. Do you hear?’

Erika sat back and crossed her arms.

‘Erika,’ said Melanie. ‘Do you understand?’

There was silence. Marsh stared at her across the desk. A vein pulsed in his forehead, and for a moment she took a small thrill from riling him. Top brass must really be panicking that I’m heading up this case, she thought.

‘Yes. Understood.’

Marsh picked up his hat and stood up from his chair.

‘Melanie. Thank you for the coffee.’

‘Yes, thank you. We appreciate you taking the time to meet with us,’ said Melanie, getting up. Erika hauled herself out of her seat. She realised that she had to play the game.

‘Paul. I’m not stupid. I’m sorry if I got… if things got heated. I’ll let you know everything that happens.’

Marsh stopped at the door.

‘Thank you,’ he said curtly. ‘How is your new place? Are you settling in?’ he asked, doing an about-face and changing the subject.

‘Yes. It needs some work, though,’ she said.

‘It’s a lovely area, Blackheath… Do you remember that flat we shared in Manchester, our first year in the force? No carpets or central heating. Camp beds.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘It was fun though, wasn’t it?’

Erika felt a sudden pang of remorse, and loss. Not only had she lost Mark, but she’d lost the old Paul Marsh. The good friend he used to be, before he was seized by his thirst for power and promotion. He was now three ranks above her, and she didn’t know how to talk to him anymore, and when she did, it was a disaster.

‘It was fun,’ she said with a genuine smile.

‘I miss Mark. I think of him often.’

‘I do too. All the time.’

There was a brief moment when she saw the old Paul smiling back at her.

‘Please be careful with this case, Erika. Okay?’ he asked.

‘Okay.’

He nodded, and then his smile fell away, and he was gone. After he’d left, there was a silence as Melanie walked back round her desk.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Erika. ‘My relationship with him is always going to be weird.’

Melanie nodded.

‘Just remember that I am also your senior officer. You may have a shorthand with Commander Marsh when you speak to each other, but it’s not a good look to talk to him like that in front of me.’

‘Yes, of course. So, what’s really happening now? I have authority here as the leading officer, but we both know that there are ways that top brass can lean on me from above. Is Charles Wakefield now off-limits?’

‘Unlike Marsh, I read the details of the case last night. This was brutal, violent murder. At this stage I would be looking at Charles Wakefield as a potential suspect. But one word of advice, Erika. Be smart. Play the game. Don’t go in like a wrecking ball on this, when the family member of a very senior officer is involved.’

Erika rubbed her face.

‘Okay. Thank you.’

‘And remember, when Charles Wakefield was processed last night in the custody suite, they will have taken his DNA. He’s also on probation for three months. You can achieve a lot of leverage with all that. Just try to tread lightly, don’t stomp all over this case like a mad elephant wearing army boots.’

11

Erika went back to the incident room, and she was pleased to see amongst the admin workers, her regular trusted team of officers: Moss and Peterson, along with Detective John McGorry, a fresh-faced man in his twenties with short dark hair, and Detective Crane, a shorter sandy-haired officer just a few years younger than Erika.

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