Guilty Conscious, Oliver Davies [small books to read TXT] 📗

nose got broken. She’d probably say he had it coming, which he rather did. Would it have gotten the anger out of Billie, or would it have made it worse?

I stepped back, looking at the chaotic maze of photos, dates, and facts that we had gathered over time, and Sharp strode in, her coat draped over her arm.

“You should head on soon,” she told me. “You look crap.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

Sharp looked at the board, noting my new addition and her eyes focused on Billie’s picture. “I’m concerned,” she told me.

“About what?”

“Your investment.”

“Ma’am?”

“Someone like Billie,” she said, leaning against Mills’s desk. “You’ve worked cases like these before. A young adult, tricky home situation, dead relatives, all on their own. It clouds your judgement. Makes you biased.”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, walking over to my desk, luckily that we had known each other long enough that I could get away with it. “I’m not biased, ma’am.”

“Aren’t you? This girl has both the means and motivation to be our killer. She assaulted the boy a few weeks before he was killed, and yet you’ve made no arrest. She barely has an alibi, Thatcher.” Her voice had turned bleak.

“You said you trust my judgement,” I replied, “my instincts.”

“I do. But I think in situations like these, your instincts aren’t always spot on. Billie is the sort of person you feel sorry for, someone you want to help. Don’t argue,” she snapped when I opened my mouth. “I know you, Max. As a friend, as well as anything else. And I don’t blame you for wanting to believe her innocence. But we don’t work in belief. We work in facts. And if you can’t be impartial…” She trailed off with a shake of the head.

“What?” I asked. “You’ll take me off the case.”

“I don’t want to. Don’t give me a reason to, Thatcher.”

I sighed, raking a hand through my hair and sitting at my desk, my eyes falling on my mother’s face in her frame.

“I know where you’re coming from,” I told her quietly, “but I know this job too. And I just don’t think Billie’s our killer. It doesn’t add up.”

“It doesn’t always add up,” Sharp replied, matching my tone. “You’ve worked enough cases to know that as well as anyone.” Her eyes looked to the photograph. “Don’t let your history get muddled up with everyone else’s now, Max. This isn’t the same story. Billie isn’t you.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” She asked softly. “I need to be sure, Max. Because you’re my best Inspector, I need you to be sure.”

I looked up, meeting her gaze to offer her a slight smile. “I’d like that on a t-shirt, please, Mara.”

She rolled her eyes and stood up, pulling her coat on.

“Or a mug. That way, I can walk around the station drinking my coffee, and everyone can see it.”

“This is why the only person who joins you at the pub is Mills,” she informed me with a pointed finger.

“Sometimes Lena does,” I replied.

“She’s just as bad,” Sharp said, pulling her bag up onto her shoulder. “You good, Max?”

“I’m good, boss. Scout’s honour,” I added, my hand over my heart.

“I know you weren’t a boy scout,” she told me, shooting me one last smile before turning and walking from the office.

I sighed and leant back, idly turning my chair. My thoughts turned to my mother, to the coaching house, and to Elsie. I owed her a visit, maybe some flowers. That will give her the energy she needs to get up from bed and scold me.

Seventeen

Thatcher

I settled on daisies for Elsie, knowing that anything too pungent would earn me a stern word and anything too colourful would be discreetly moved to another side of the room but a well-meaning but easily spooked nurse. Liene was working late at the museum tonight, so I headed straight to the hospital from work, the bouquet balanced precariously on the passenger seat as my car trundled through the countryside.

The car park was relatively empty, so I found myself a place to park before striding into the hospital, the nurse at reception kindly letting me through to Elsie’s room. They let me in. Apparently, in a moment when she was awake, she’d bluntly informed the staff that I was allowed in. The room was quiet, Elsie looking so small as she lay tucked up, the starched sheets and itchy blanket pulled up to her chin. I set the daisies in a jug on the bedside table and settled down in the chair, looking over her restful face, her scruffy white hair curling around her cheeks.

“Hi, Elsie,” I said into the quiet of the room. “Doctor said you should be out in a few days, which is good. I’ll make sure your house is clean for you. I know how you feel about dust bunnies. This case is a rough one.” I rubbed my face. “One of those where I’d come to you for a chat. Or at least to have you tell me to kick my arse into gear.”

I chuckled softly. I stayed there for a short while, telling her little bits and pieces before a nurse came in to check her over, and I ducked out to give her some privacy. I’d visit again, hopefully when she was awake, but for now, I headed back out and sat in my car, staring out the window to the trees that lined the hills beyond me.

I started the engine and drove away, not thinking about where I wanted to go until I ended up outside the coaching house, hoping a few hours of fixing the old place up would help clear my mind, at least clear it from the conversation I’d had with Sharp. She had a point, I knew she did, but I couldn’t put the fact out of my head that Billie was innocent. There was something I was missing.

Unlocking the door, I stepped into the coaching house and flipped the light switch. A few lights fluttered