Eeny Meeny

62

‘Twenty Marlboro Gold, please.’

Helen was smoking too much – she knew that. But she wanted to gather her thoughts before sitting opposite Mickery and smoking had always had a calming effect on her. So she’d slipped out to the local newsagent. The owner reached back and pulled out the reassuring white and gold packet. He tossed them on to the counter and with a straight face told her the scandalous price.

‘Let me get those.’

Emilia Garanita. Another ambush. I really must be more vigilant, Helen thought to herself, getting caught out this often only encourages her.

‘No need,’ said Helen handing a ten-pound note to the outstretched hand. The owner was staring blatantly at Emilia. Was this because he recognized her from the newspaper or because of her ravaged face? For a moment, Helen felt a modicum of sympathy for her adversary.

‘How are you, Emilia? You’re looking well.’

‘Just dandy. It’s you I’m worried about. How are you coping investigating three murders?’

‘As I’ve said before, Ben Holland’s death was an accid-’

‘Sam Fisher, Ben Holland, Martina Robins. All murdered. This is unprecedented for Southampton. They were all remote locations, the killings were out of character. What are we dealing with here?’

The recording device was visible in Emilia’s hand, clearly she was hoping to record Helen’s discomfort – or was it humiliation she was hoping for? Helen eyed her up, enjoying the tension, before replying.

‘Speculation, Emilia. But I hope to have more for you very soon. We have someone in custody right now who is helping us with our enquiries. You can print that if you like. That’s not speculation. That’s a fact. You do still print facts, don’t you?’

And with that she left. Heading back to the station, Helen had a spring in her step. It was nice to have the upper hand for once. She drew deeply on her cigarette, savouring the thought of what was to come.