Chapter 22 Chapter 21

The police station in the early morning is always as warm as a baby's room. Moreau is tired, her neck and armpits are wet with sweat. She throws her coat and handbag on the desk and closes the door. Looking at the briefcase on the table, she took a deep breath, sat down, pulled the briefcase in front of her, placed her hands on both sides of the table, and adjusted herself like a pianist before a recital.Looking down at the neat pile of green and yellow papers, she admitted that she really didn't want to take the case.She doesn't like it.She is losing sympathy for Sarah Errol, a victim she discovers is more complicated than she imagined.She didn't want to meet the murderer either.

She looked up at the room.Drab brown wooden tables, gray plastic chairs.There were a few stains on the wall where pictorials and posters had been removed, and in front of her was another empty desk.She thought of the Murrays' dizzyingly chaotic kitchen, with its sink clogged with tea bags.The room felt so barren compared to that kitchen. She started reading the report and planning the morning delegating meeting. Door-to-door visit reports.She pored over the transcript of the conversation with Mrs. Tyrine; Leonard went with Wilder, and there was no mention of money in the transcript, a slight mention of Kay and her promise: she promised to come and help identify what was missing .

Sarah Errol's books for paying carers: She keeps very detailed records of salaries and expenses.She wrote "Mom" on a piece of label paper and stuck it to the front of the ledger.Morrow looked at the total, which reached tens of thousands of pounds a year.But those accounts were not all Sarah's notes. Someone else, a very careful person, was filling them out for her. Some lab reports are in there, photos of footprints on the stairs and blood, but the photographer has toned down the color intensity of the blood so it looks brown.The footprints are unique: three circles at the arch of the foot, with two different sets of footprints.There is no brand mentioned in the report, but there are sizing hints: one pair is a size 8, and the other is a size 9 or 10.Moreau wrote "Phila?" on it, looked at it, and crossed it out.She looked again and asked herself why she excluded Kay's son, what was the motive?Then rewrite "Phila?".

The report also included fingerprints taken from window frames, iPhones and railings.There were actually two sets of fingerprints, two intruders, but no fingerprints at all on the money hidden in the museum catalogue.Another photo was of an unidentifiable tire in the mud in front of the house. These reports have everything or nothing.Not a single piece of evidence can be used to find a suspect, or even identify one.Now there is no one in the frame. She could hear the officers on the day shift gathering outside to exchange good mornings with those off the evening shift.She cheered up and looked at the photos carefully again, feeling an unprecedented shock.

There was a bang on the door, and then Bannerman pushed the door open, still in his coat and scarf, "Good morning." "Good morning, Inspector." "After you finish the task release meeting, I will give them a speech." "It's not really necessary." He stood there, looked at her, raised his eyebrows challengingly, and turned away, closing the door behind him. What she had to do this morning was not just a briefing, but a sales job: She had to try to get the officers to care for a fashionable and wealthy prostitute who had no living relatives and suffered horrific injuries.Then Bannerman would come in and make them lose that love again.

She stood up, opened the office door, and called out a kopeck.She heard people conveying her password, and Goby hurried over.She took a report from the briefcase and handed it to him. "Make 10 copies of this, staple it up, and bring it to the assignment meeting. Harris..." Harris came early, always early, and when he heard his name, he appeared in front of Morrow's office door, "Good morning." "Well," she said, "good morning. Get me a pair of speakers for my laptop." Harris walked away resignedly with resentment.Equipment issues have always been a hassle, either missing, broken, or just plain wrong purchases.By the time a police officer has enough seniority to control the equipment budget, they are often hopelessly technically blind.It is said that when talking about recently purchased computer equipment, they always talk about how much it cost, but never what it might be used for.

It was 8 o'clock now, and the police officers were pouring into the case room opposite one after another. She collected the documents and neatly stacked them into a pile. She stood up, took a deep breath, and went to the corridor outside. Luther was standing there, grinning, and the smile disappeared instantly when he saw her. "Go in," she said. The project room was another ugly little room filled with communal desks, a project board at one end of the room, and a whiteboard hanging on the front wall. The people on the night shift sat in the front row, closest to the door, blatantly ignoring Bannerman who was only 3 feet away from them.He stands at the whiteboard, in front of everyone's eyes, to let them know who's really boss, but standing there he looks lonely and lost.Seeing Moreau enter, he gave her a superfluous nod, a sign that she was welcome and that she could begin the meeting.She didn't nod in response.

"Okay," she said, and they fell silent, "Sarah Errol is rich, young, pretty, and has no family, who cares? I do, but I think I'm the only one here who cares." It was a different start than usual, enough to surprise everyone to straighten up and listen carefully. "I had a really hard job today because I had to try and make you guys care." She looked at them. "It was annoying." She saw them giggling at the table in front of them, guilty and honest. She clicked on her laptop, and a picture of Mrs. Errol in her nightgown appeared in the kitchen. "This is Sarah's mother, Mrs. Errol." They snickered, as Joey Errol looked Old and grumpy, "This is Sarah."

She clicked on a photo of Sarah.Sarah stood on the street looking back and smiling, her apple-like face was sharp, her eyes were gentle and full of love.Morrow hovered over the photo and told them to look at it while she continued, telling them what she knew, Mrs. Errol's expensive care and her recent death.She told them about Sarah's sex work, but explained that Sarah hadn't done it since her mother's death, and let them put the two things together for themselves, hoping that might spark a spark of sympathy in them. Without any warning, she suddenly clicked on a photo of the crime scene and watched their eyes widen and their heads tilted, as if confused as if they didn't know what they were looking at.

Sarah Errol's face had been trampled on repeatedly and bore the full weight of her attacker, her nose was nothing but a bit of naked pearly white cartilaginous roots, her eyes were two indistinguishable black holes, The hair was a tangle of tangled strands of gold and blood.The extent of the perpetrator's anger at this face is simply incomprehensible.The man was standing on the steps next to her head and had stepped up them over and over until the face was beyond recognition and there was not a single piece left intact.One ear was gone, the skull had collapsed from the mouth, the teeth had fallen into the back of the gaping throat, only the lips were more or less intact.

To give them a moment to think, Moreau said: "The killer grabbed the banister for balance, then raised one foot and stamped it down..." Then she began to narrate what happened in deadpan chronological order: Two young men came in through the kitchen window, went upstairs, checked her purse, and found her Taser.Morrow clicked on the photo on the fake phone on the hall floor, then went back to Sarah's photo.She told them that all three made their way down, and that two boys took Sarah's life at the bottom of the stairs.No weapons were used, just feet.She showed a slide of a footprint, a close-up of a black suede fiber, taken in a lab.She also showed them the tire tracks on the muddy ground outside. Harris was in charge of identifying the brand of sneakers—she specifically mentioned Fila—and Wilder was in charge of checking the names and files of all the nurses.She assigned the rest of the day's detectives the rest of the morning's work. Detective Leonard raised his hand to ask a question, and the others snickered because Leonard had violated the convention here.Usually, if there is a problem it is to wait until the end, after the inspector has finished the pre-prepared meeting.But Moreau was surprised that anyone was listening, and was happy to be interrupted.She nodded to Leonard, hoping that the other party's question was not about the day and night shift schedule. "How do you know it's two young men?" She nodded to Goby and told him to send the copy.Moreau was taking a risk.Someone might come home and tell their wife, someone might have a beer with a reporter at night and slip out important details. After making sure everyone had a copy, Morrow "hush" and told everyone to be quiet. "Okay," she said aloud, "listen, the last thing Sarah Errol did," she pointed to the whiteboard, making them all look at the picture, "was to call 999, but Sarah No words were spoken, so the call was routed to the automated recording system." They come alive because they suddenly have such confidence from their superiors, such important evidence and facts to analyze and think about. Morrow hit play, turning up the volume as high as possible without making the noise too intrusive. The room fell silent for a moment: while the recording had been amplified to accentuate Sarah Errol's voice, it hadn't been properly cleaned up and wasn't quite clear. Sarah Errol: What are you doing here? There was a pause, no movement, and Sarah must have turned to her phone, because the next sentence was clear. Sarah: Get out of my house. She sounded annoyed but not frightened, a girly voice with a drawling Estuary accent that was slightly sleepy nasal. Sarah: It's not an empty (indistinct) house that no one lives in. There was another pause, but when Sarah spoke again, her tone had changed considerably. Sarah: My mother died, but I'm still alive. Then came a boy's voice, intermittent and unsteady.His voice is loud and confident. Suspect 1: Where are your children? Everyone in the room sat up straight. Sarah: Kids? Suspect 1: You have children. Sarah: No, I don't have any kids yet. Suspect 1: You did, you fucking sure did. Sarah: You went to the wrong house. Suspect 1: No, I didn't. Sarah: Listen, you better leave now, I called the police a minute ago (indistinct), the police are coming, if you don't leave, you're going to be in big trouble. This time no one laughed anymore. Sarah: I know what you want to do. She seemed to move and move further away from the phone, but they could still hear her. Sarah: You don't know who you're playing with, you picked the wrong one! Suspect 1: Shut up, go back! Moreau pressed the pause button, and everyone looked around, surprised that she suddenly stopped here. "Where does his accent come from?" she asked. There was a guilty silence, as if an unexpected spelling test had come up while they were dozing off. "England?" Newcomer Leonard put forward his opinion, and everyone around nodded, indicating that they had been listening carefully. "No," said Moreau exasperatedly, "I'm not testing if you're listening, it's a weird hybrid accent, and I want you to think about it, analyze it, and see if you can identify where it's coming from, Or even just part of it." She rewinds the tape and hits play again. Suspect 1: Shut up, go back! Now they were really listening, their faces were so responsive, it was as if they were in Sarah's room, ready to intervene. The sound of footsteps, thump, thump, thump, was the sound of bare feet stepping on the hard floor, approaching the mobile phone, Sarah suddenly took control of the situation. Sarah: (shouting) Get out of here, right now! Morrow kept looking down at the floor, but she smiled, proud of Sarah.Victims may attract sympathy, but they often lose the respect of the police.Real cops have seen so much of that that it's hard to be sympathetic. Sarah: Who are you?I know you, I sure know you, I've seen pictures of you! Suspect 1: Photos? (indistinct) My picture? In response to this suppressed and angry voice, the policemen all sat up straight reflexively. Suspect 1: Who the hell showed you my picture? Suspect 2: Stop (indistinct), buddy (indistinct), breathe in, take a deep breath. Suspect 1: Damn (indistinct) cell phone. A short pause. Suspect 1: (indistinct) Hurry up! As the deputies listened, Morrow watched them, and when Sarah insisted that she knew one of the men's fathers and called the boy a liar, Morrow noticed they looked a little cowed. Sarah yelled for help, saying there were two boys in her bedroom and she knew one of them.Then there was dead silence, and the phone disconnected. Morrow heard them take a deep breath and look around anxiously, wanting to make sure the threat was over.She looked at Bannerman and asked permission to dismiss the meeting.He kept his mouth shut, but nodded, and Moreau turned to the group. "Thank you for listening, gentlemen, and you may go." As they stood up, Moreau could see that everyone was absorbed in the story. "Slow," Bannerman took a step forward and raised his hand, "sit back." He sounded like an irate principal, and the night shift hesitated, looking at Moreau beseechingly.She closed her eyes, and Bannerman was about to screw things up again. "I noticed that your eyes have been staring at the clock," he pointed at them, and Morrow saw them shrink back one by one, lower their heads, and look at the table. Her efforts in the meeting just now were in vain, "If I Without seeing your efforts on this case, I would consider reassignment or layoffs, understand?" No one answered, and no one looked up, except for Harris, who sat upright in the back row with arms folded and lips pursed, facing Bannerman's challenge. "do you understand?" "Yes, Inspector," they answered unevenly, except for Harris who said nothing. "Okay, that's it." He held up a hand to signal the end of the meeting. "Thank you for your help!" Moreau said sarcastically, before the sound of moving chairs drowned out the voice.The officers heard it, looked at each other, and laughed. Bannerman gave her a hard look. He was not only angry, she knew that he would make her pay a painful price for this.