Thicker Than Water

‘Tell me about the lab data, Gary,’ I said. ‘Have you got any better idea of what happened in that car?’

Coldwood grimaced and didn’t answer. I refreshed his glass and pushed it across the table towards him.

‘Two men,’ I prompted. ‘One of them was Kenny. chemht= The other one wasn’t me.’

‘Two men,’ Coldwood agreed, picking up the glass and taking a solid swig. ‘Two men besides Seddon. All three of them touch the razor at different times - lots of different times, shifting their grip. It looks as though the razor was a major fucking talking point.

’

‘Do we know whether it belonged to Kenny or one of these other guys?’

He shook his head. ‘No idea. But if it belonged to one of the killers - I mean, the assailants - then he definitely used it mainly for shaving.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that anyone who knew how to handle a malky wouldn’t have made such a frigging dog’s breakfast of it. To look at the wounds, you’d think Seddon had been done over with a potato peeler. And then switched to a tin-opener for the actual kill.

Sorry, father.’

Matt did look a little pale and introspective. He’d sat down at last, on the huge wooden chest in the corner, as far removed from these discussions as he could get. He swallowed audibly. I was going to tell him where the bathroom was, forestalling any further degradation of Pen’s already grimy carpet, but Gary was still talking and I didn’t want to interrupt in case it was hard to get him started again. ‘We’ve got some fibres,’ he said, ‘from the other guys’ clothes.

No footprints, though. The car was parked on a slope, with the bias towards the driver’s side. Easy enough to bypass the blood if you go in and out by the passenger door. But with the fingerprints and the other bits and pieces, there’s no margin for error.’

‘So we’ll know these guys when we find them,’ I summarised.

‘Which we is this?’ Gary went and leaned against the fireplace as though putting some distance between himself and me.

‘You don’t work for me any more, Fix. Ruth Basquiat doesn’t see you as part of any we. And she’s I/C on the case now, so you’d better not expect any favours.’

‘Basquiat is—?’ I echoed. This wasn’t good news. ‘When did that happen?’"

"He shrugged. ‘As soon as we hauled you in for questioning. You heard me backing off on that. Basquiat thinks the conflict of interest is deep enough to be fundamental, and she was prepared to bring the DCI in.