Redemption of the Dead by Luke Delaney Page B

oblivious to the two men sat at the back of the hall watching them – studying them.
    * * *
    ‘He did well – your boy,’ Detective Chief Superintendent Charlie Bannan told the stocky, muscular man sitting next to him. ‘Is he as good an Old Bill as he is a boxer?’
    ‘He is that,’ Detective Sergeant Dave Donnelly answered. ‘One of our rising stars, you might say. He’s only been out of uniform a few months, but he’s certainly getting himself noticed. He was dragged up in East Dulwich, so he already knows the streets. He’s going to make a fine detective one day, so long as he can keep his nose clean.’
    ‘A trouble causer?’
    ‘Not really, but he has a bit of a temper – from time to time.’
    ‘Don’t we all,’ Bannan dismissed it, missing the deeper look of concern in Donnelly’s eyes.
    ‘I’ll tell you one thing,’ Donnelly told him, ‘he’s instinctive. I mean the boy’s really fucking unbelievable – like he just seems to know. I’ve seen him identify suspects for residential burglaries without a shred of evidence just by flicking through intelligence records. He has some talent – I’ll tell you that.’
    ‘One of those?’
    ‘Excuse me?’ Donnelly questioned.
    ‘Nothing,’ Bannan told him.
    ‘You know what I’m working on at the moment?’
    ‘Aye. The Parkside rapes.’
    ‘It’s a big old enquiry and it’s going to get bigger before it’s over. Do you think your boy would benefit from an attachment? I could use an extra body.’
    ‘Sure,’ Donnelly agreed. ‘I’ll send him over tomorrow. But remember he’s still very green. Don’t over expose him – nothing too heavy.’
    ‘Of course. I’ll keep him away from the front line – door-to-door and canvassing only. He’ll be bored, but he needs to learn his trade somewhere.’
    ‘That he does.’
    Bannan smoothed his golden-blond bushy moustache and then pushed his longer than normal hair back from his eyes before pulling a packet of tobacco and rolling paper from his jacket pocket. He nimbly constructed a thin cigarette and lit up, inhaling deeply into his chest. Despite only being five-foot-eight-inches tall he always seemed much bigger – his deep London accent, intelligent eyes and standing amongst other detectives made him appear twice his size. ‘What about you,’ he asked as he blew a plume of smoke into the hall that was already heavy with man-made smog, ‘fancy an attachment to the enquiry? I could use a DS I can trust.’
    ‘No thanks, guv’nor. As soon as I’ve served my time on division I’ll be looking to get back on the Flying Squad.’
    ‘Fair enough,’ Bannan told him. ‘And how is life as a DS, by the way?’
    ‘Grand. Certainly beats being a DC and getting all the shit jobs.’
    ‘Well, you know what they say about shit? It always rolls down hill. DS – best rank in the Met. Think very carefully before taking the next rank and tying yourself to a desk.’
    ‘Not me, guv’nor,’ Donnelly explained. ‘A DS will do me nicely for the rest of my career. I’m not planning on chasing promotion.’
    ‘Very wise,’ Bannan told him, rising from his wooden seat and offering his hand to Donnelly who gratefully accepted it, hoping other detectives in the hall would notice the seal of approval a handshake from Bannan implied. ‘Send the boy over in the morning. And take my advice – grow a moustache – it’ll make you look more the part – hide that fresh face of yours.’ He released Donnelly’s hand and seemed to instantly disappear into the crowd.
    ‘Well, Sean my boy,’ Donnelly spoke to himself, ‘get ready to meet a legend, son. Get ready to meet a legend.’

Chapter Two
    Tuesday morning, and an apprehensive Police Constable Sean Corrigan approached the smallish open plan office usually used for training lectures, which was where the Area Major Investigation Team would be based until the Parkside Rapist was found and convicted. His normal place of work was inside the same