Private London

Chapter 113

The Surgeon knelt down and removed the wilted flowers from the vases on the left and right of the small plot.

She laid them neatly to one side. Replaced them with fresh flowers as a shadow fell across the white pea shingle.

‘Can I help you?’ she asked without looking round. The surgeon was of medium height and dressed in a dark grey trouser suit. Her hair was silver, the colour of brushed aluminium. Her eyes were alert, intelligent but filled with sadness.

‘My name’s Kirsty Webb, Doctor Lloyd. I’m a detective inspector from the Metropolitan Police.’

‘I thought you might be.’ Doctor Lloyd gathered the flowers she had collected, put them in a plastic shopping bag and stood up.

‘I’m here to talk about your husband.’

‘Ex-husband. We were divorced over a year ago. Attention to details, detective. I should imagine it is just as vital in your line of work as it is in mine.’

‘The devil is in the detail?’

‘Gods and devils. I guess your job is finding out which.’

‘We get there in the end. Sometimes.’

The surgeon nodded. ‘So what led you to me?’

‘Everything was a little too neat.’ Kirsty shrugged. ‘Something about it all seemed hinky to me.’

‘Hinky?’

‘Something not quite right. An American expression. My husband is over-fond of using them, I’m afraid.’

‘You’re not wearing a ring.’

‘Ex-husband, I should have said.’

The older woman tilted her head slightly, as if approving.

‘I went to the pubs near to the area where Colin Harris’s body was found. He had alcohol in his system. Sleeping medication. We were supposed to think it was suicide – but things didn’t add up.’

‘I see.’

‘One of the barmen in a local pub recognised his picture. Remembered him drinking a short while before the incident. He was with a woman. The woman he described matched you, Doctor Lloyd, when I looked into it. I showed the barman your photo from the hospital records and he confirmed it.’

‘Female intuition?’

Kirsty shook her head. ‘Police intuition.’

Doctor Lloyd gazed down at the grave of her daughter. ‘Female intuition isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it?’ she said.