One Under (58 page)

‘We’ve actioned it?’

‘Tomorrow, first thing. We didn’t get to the neighbour until close of play. She works at IBM. Gets home at five thirty. The description’s pretty detailed. Piece of piss, boss. Should be.’

‘Excellent. What have we got in the way of seizures?’

‘Just a laptop and a digital camera. Plus Mallinder’s briefcase. There’s an address book in the briefcase and some paperwork, but according to Benskin most of the real stuff will be on the laptop. Bloke came over from Netley to sort it out.’

Faraday nodded. In evidential terms, PCs and laptops needed careful handling. The process was time-consuming and the Hi-Tech Unit was overwhelmed with jobs. The last time he’d checked, there was a three-month wait for hard-disk analysis.

‘We may need to fast-track it,’ he said. ‘Is there anything else?’

Suttle shook his head, then bent to his notepad to make sure. Faraday was on his feet, tidying his own notes, when there came a knock at the door. It opened to reveal a woman in her early thirties. She was wearing jeans and a pair of battered Reeboks. A rumpled off-white linen jacket hung loosely over a bleached pink T-shirt and the tan suggested a recent vacation. She was looking at Faraday. Lightly freckled face. A hint of caution in the green eyes.

‘D/C Suttle?’

Faraday shook his head, nodded at the figure behind the desk. Suttle clearly hadn’t a clue who this woman was.

‘’D/I Hamilton.’ She smiled. ‘Gina. We talked on the phone.’

‘Yeah, of course we did.’ Suttle pushed his chair back and shook the outstretched hand. ‘Shit, I’m sorry. This is D/I Faraday.’

Faraday, too, recognised the name. Gina Hamilton was a Devon and Cornwall Detective Inspector attached to the Major Crime Incident Team at Exeter. A long-term drugs inquiry had brought her to Portsmouth, though Faraday was vague about the details. A phone call from HQ earlier in the week had asked him to sort out a D/C to give Hamilton whatever assistance she required, and Jimmy Suttle - still largely office-bound - had been the first name in the frame.

Suttle was indicating the spare chair across the desk. In a couple of minutes he’d be through for the day. She could use the phone, read the paper, whatever. Then, if she fancied it, he’d take her to the bar upstairs for a drink. Hamilton was watching him, amused.

‘A phone would be good,’ she said.