The Doll's House

30

‘Get your hands off me, girl.’ It was said with a smile, but the aggression beneath was clear. ‘I know you want to get in my trousers, but I’m a married man, so get your fucking mitts off me.’

Sanderson didn’t dignify Nathan Price’s outburst with a reply. He’d been effing and blinding since she’d picked him up and, besides, she wouldn’t put it past him to do a runner. One hand on his cuffs, one hand on his collar – that was the best way to keep hold of him. If she was honest, this was one of the small perks of the job, cutting violent, unpleasant men down to size. She bustled him roughly through the doors, only releasing him when they reached the custody sergeant.

‘Got a nice one for you, Harry,’ Sanderson said, depositing Price at the front desk. The formalities were soon done and they were buzzed through to the custody area. As they neared the interrogation suite, DS Lloyd Fortune approached.

‘All right, fella, what did they get you for?’ Nathan asked with mock sympathy.

Ignoring Price’s racist jibe, Lloyd turned to Sanderson.

‘I’ll take this charmer off your hands.’

For a moment, Sanderson said nothing. Price was her suspect and more importantly her collar.

‘It’s all right, I’ve got it.’

Sanderson should have backed down immediately of course, but something – pride? anger? – stopped her.

‘DI Grace suggested that she and I lead on this one.’

Was this true? Was she being elbowed aside? Whatever the truth of the matter, she couldn’t argue the point with Nathan Price hanging on their every word, visibly enjoying the tension between the two officers.

‘Lovers’ tiff?’ he offered helpfully. ‘Like a bit of black, do you?’

‘Watch your mouth,’ Lloyd barked back, hauling the grinning suspect away towards the custody suite.

Sanderson watched them go. There was prejudice here all right but it wasn’t just coming from Price. Sanderson was the more experienced, better-qualified officer, with far more investigation hours and convictions under her belt, yet Lloyd Fortune had still been promoted over and above her. He’d only been at Southampton a little over a year – to her four – and already he’d shot past her. She knew the reason why – though of course she could never say it in public. It was political correctness pure and simple and it made her blood boil. Lloyd was keen to justify his promotion, to get a high-profile conviction under his belt, and Sanderson would suffer as a result. She understood this, she might even have done the same if she were in his shoes. But was Helen complicit too? She didn’t go in for that kind of thing normally, but had the landscape changed?

Walking back to her desk, Sanderson felt the ground subtly shifting under her feet and she didn’t like it one little bit.