Chapter 14 Chapter Thirteen

She was glad that Wilder drove Moreau straight to London Road Police Station in silence.She put the notebook on her lap, and looked down from time to time, pretending to ponder some details and timelines, but her mind was full of the shadow of Kay Murray when she was young, standing on the corner of the street, in the AJ Outside the daily necessities company, she was wearing thick lipstick. JJ was just born, and Morrow was very jealous of Danny, seeing him talking about JJ lovingly, the tenderness and pride in his eyes made her angry, because she thought that Danny had his own family since then, which meant he Will be one step ahead of her out of the chaotic environment they were born and raised together.

She felt her phone vibrate before it rang. She fumbled in her pocket and took it out when the first ring rang. The caller ID read "Office" instead of "Bannerman." She breathed a sigh of relief and pressed Answer key. "Inspector, this is Harris." "What's up?" "The last number I called on my iPhone was 999." "Oh shit, did she get through?" "She didn't answer the operator." "Damn, those newspapers must make a big fuss about this, and investigate further, thoroughly, okay?" "Yes, Inspector, no problem."

"What else?" He covered the microphone, asked someone else, then returned to the receiver, "Still checking emails and photos." "Any information about Mrs Errol's carer?" "A list of names and addresses has been listed." "I'll be there in 15 minutes." She hung up. Sarah could have been saved.The police could have ducked outside the door and caught the killer as he fled, or they could have arrived just in time to prevent it from happening altogether.what is the problem?Moreau quickly turned his mind to something happier. Kay Murray has four teenage kids, and what a rowdy scene it is.All Morrow could think of was Kay herself as an adolescent, though she looked much older now, with graying hair.In Morrow's eyes, Kay was still the little girl standing by the street lamp. It was late summer and early autumn. She wore very little clothes. Because she cared about her stubby legs, she bought high heels from a charity shop. Crap, but because she's young, she can take it.

Moreau looked at the notebook, and the car drove another two miles, but she didn't even turn a page. "How is your door-to-door investigation?" Wilder had also been immersed in his own world, and suddenly he couldn't hear her clearly, "What?" "Does the door-to-door visits pay off?" "Ah, not much to gain, Errol is solitary and doesn't know much about people, but they know she's selling houses." "Really?" "It's a big deal," he nodded, agreeing with himself. "It's a big deal, because Sarah's family has lived here for more than 150 years, and the neighbors think it's a big deal."

"It's not a good time to sell a house either." "The state of the house is also terrible." "Yeah, she shouldn't expect the house to sell for a good price." Moreau scratched a few lines with his fingertips, "The woman we met on the boulevard..." "Kay Murray," he smiled, "do you know her?" "At school. Where did you meet her?" He smiled smugly, "At the bottom of the mountain, the former stables have now become a house, where Mrs. Thales lives. Your friend is her cleaner. Quite a personality." His intention was mocking.Moreau grunted, and out of the corner of his eye he could catch a glimpse of a smile on her face.

"Do you have her address?" He shrugged. "In the notes." It would take him a day to write an interim report.She suddenly felt something was on her mind, so she changed the subject, "Does Errol have a boyfriend?" "No one has seen it." Wilder was due to change shifts in twenty minutes, and she could sense that he was absent-minded. "So she doesn't have a good relationship with the nearby residents?" But he was completely distracted, thinking about what to do when he got home, how to get home, "I don't know, Kay might know."

Hearing Kai's name, Morrow felt a little warmth, "How would she know?" "Apparently Sarah Errol was being paid £10 an hour and everyone wanted to work for her mother when she was sick and be her cleaner. The cleaner, Kay, worked there until the The old lady just left after she died. Mrs. Tyrine said Kay had a lot of problems." "What kind of question?" "Live in Kasimik." "Is that a problem too?" "Mrs. Tyrine seems to think so." Moreau snorted, "Has she ever been to Kasimik?" "She said she drove by there."

"Stupid cow." They rounded the gloomy majesty of Glasgow Green and Bridgetown, turned into London Road, and headed straight for the police station. The police station building is a three-story tawny brick building that looks like an ordinary office building, but has the architectural features of a fortress: the windows are deeply embedded in the wall, and the front is a row of buttresses.At the entrance are two huge concrete boxes overgrown with wild shrubs, a contraption designed to deter drive-by robbers, who are far more dangerous than terrorists.Around the back of the building is a high wall topped with broken green glass that forms a courtyard for police cars and visiting vehicles.

The street outside was packed with cars preparing to change shifts, parked along the road and sidewalk, chaotic but orderly, not a single car ran over the double yellow lines or blocked the entrance to the police station. Because they were using a police car, it had to be parked in the yard.Wilder approached slowly, carefully bypassing the shipping car and the wall, and bypassing the small cell with high iron windows in the middle. He pulled the handbrake and she opened the door, adding a parting note, "Give me Kay Murray's contact details before you leave." She slammed the car door, depriving him of the opportunity to protest that there were other things to do.She walked up the ramp, worried about going to see Kay Murray alone.At no time should the police go to witnesses alone, not only because they could be charged for doing so, but also because of the corroboration rule: nothing said by the subject of questioning can be admissible in court without the witness of another officer. evidence.The testimony obtained by the police alone is worse than the hearsay, very unprofessional.

She walked down the ramp to the door, entered the security code, and took a few steps back so that the people inside could see her in the camera.The door opened. The reception room was empty, but she could hear the screams from the cell, muffled through the door, like the voice of a wronged man thinned by a hard day and many shouts. .John looked out from the back office, "Just you?" He knew she wouldn't normally drive a police car by herself. "Wilder's outside. Who's calling?" She nodded toward the cell. "Street brawler, trance, Clark drug addict."

She frowned. Most of the junkies they brought in were just hated street sleepers, incapable of stealing. He glanced at the clock, "Are you going to hold a task release meeting?" "Ah, yes." She had been so distracted by Kay that she had forgotten about it. She took off her coat and walked across the hall to CID, holding on to the door as Harris was coming out. "Ten minutes." She warned, pointing to the meeting room. "Inspector, Scott is still upstairs." "I know, I know, I'll see him right after the meeting. Let him wait for me for 20 minutes." "He's getting impatient." "Okay, that's good," she said, closing the door. They were gathering in the case room, ready to go home, whether they were on the night shift or 8-5, and put things behind them, leaving her alone to care about Sarah Errol's case.She slipped into the office, didn't even bother to turn on the lights, put down her coat and handbag, stood in the dark, and took out her personal mobile phone from the bag. Brian answered right away, "Hello!" "OK?" "Yeah, are you okay?" "fine." She slowly opened the desk drawer, took out a pen and a notepad, and opened the cover. "How was the funeral?" Brian asked after a moment's pause. "How should I put it, he must be dead." She drew a spiral circle indiscriminately, "Is there any dinner at home?" "The soup is still in the fridge." "Oh, okay." Seeing that the circle she drew was like a closed trap, she drew another spiral circle that circled outwards beside her, "I might come back later today." "It's okay, I'll wait for you." He was smiling, and she could imagine his expression from the voice, "How are the little ones?" She touched her belly, "Yes, everything is fine." Away from the hustle and bustle of the corridor behind them, in the dark, on the phone, they smiled at each other, preparing for their own first year. She sighed and reluctantly said, "Goodbye." Brian hung up the phone after a reply. She smiled at the phone.He's always like that, never saying "see you later" or gags.She checked the phone message on the desk.There is only one.She hits play.It was a psychologist calling, leaving a phone number and asking her to call back. Moreau had told the other party that she had no comment, and she felt a sting from the woman's rudeness, and she glanced at her watch, two minutes to go.She packed up the documents, tidied her clothes, left the cold and dark office, went to the corridor, walked through the harsh noise and harsh lights, and walked into the project room. Chairs were pulled everywhere, and the officers were chatting, their conversations trailing off a little when they saw her enter.She noticed a few eyes lingering on her belly, always the same people, some repulsed, some yearning, happy fathers themselves. She slammed the papers on the desk and gave them a 30-second warning to sit down and shut up.They were quiet before she turned to face them, seven men, all police officers, four on the day shift, four on the evening shift, and one less. She greeted everyone.Luther was the last to come in, and she frowned and gave him a look to let him know that his lateness was being noticed.Considering that the newcomers may not know much about the case, she briefly stated the murder of Sarah Errol, the house and the money.She told them that the police were looking for two people in black suede sneakers, but she left out the grotesque injuries of the dead man, letting it ferment like a rumor that they would see the photos soon anyway.Images in photos lose their powerful punch over time, but she also hopes that punch helps them work a little bit more. As she spoke, she looked around at the people below.She noticed that a rich woman who had just returned from a weekend in New York and died in a house full of money did not excite much sympathy in these people.When she told them that Sarah had no next of kin to notify, she saw those leaving get off work blinking at the clock behind her, those on the late shift listening, their heads mechanically following her face , but did not understand her mind, and did not imagine the feelings of the dead woman.They just don't care. After she finished speaking, and handed Harris the assignment of night duties, she continued to look at the people in front of her: those who had to leave work looked bored, and those who had to get off work the night shift looked tired.They are waiting to go home and get on with their real life. As the meeting left, Harris approached, hoping—she thought—that she would tell him to come home and get some sleep. "I've been asking around about the footprints. Detective Leonard," he said, pointing to Leonard, "she knows a guy in Caledonia who's developing a program like this. She's a doctor in forensic science." pregnancy." They all laughed.Graduate students in forensic science are being mass-produced, with 20 graduate students filling every job opening.They call it the CSI effect, after the once very popular American TV series "CSI." "She's doing forensic mapping of crime scenes, saying that if there's a lot of blood, she might be able to analyze who, where, what did." "Okay, the important thing is, has the forensic test been done?" "No, it's new technology." "Oh," she began to think about other limitations, "if you give her any pictures, make sure she keeps them a secret. Don't give her mugshots that end up all over the internet all the time." "I don't have a face." She didn't like him joking about it, "You know what I mean." He changed the subject. "Also, we've got 999 calls. They're sorting through the recordings." "it is good." "Looks like a big file." He sounded nervous. "Has she got through?" "have no idea." They are tired of each other. "Go upstairs and see Scott, I'll be there," she said. Harris didn't protest, but he pouted.