Chapters (41)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- About the Author
- Lynda La Plante Reader’s Club
- Letter from the author
When she got home Jane got a pair of jeans, a white T-shirt and red roll neck jumper out of her wardrobe to wear in the cafe. She then had a hot bath, put on some tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt, and poured herself a glass of wine. Feeling hungry, she cooked herself a large portion of spaghetti bolognese and some garlic bread, then turned on the TV. She flicked through the channels, but there was nothing on she wanted to watch, so she decided to read some more of Medea instead. The story about a woman’s revenge on her husband couldn’t help but make her think about the goings-on in the office. She hoped Kingston’s wife didn’t start poisoning people like Medea had.
The phone rang and she quickly answered it.
‘Hi, it’s Paul – we’ve just finished the PM.’
‘What was the result?’ she asked eagerly.
‘Inconclusive, I’m afraid. She died from an acute subdural haematoma.’
‘In layman’s terms, please.’
‘When her head hit the concrete, it cracked her skull open and probably knocked her out. But it also ruptured a vein, which then filled the brain with blood and ultimately led to her death. If she’d got immediate treatment, she might have survived.’
‘Was she pushed?’
‘There’s no bruising on her body to support that conclusion—’
‘But she could have been?’
‘Yes. I found some footprints in the men’s toilets—’
‘How on earth is that going to help? Dozens of people must have been in there.’
‘Christ, you can be impatient at times, Jane. The prints were on the cubicle toilet seat, which I don’t believe you need to stand on to have a crap.’
Jane could suddenly see it.
‘Oh my God, someone must have been hiding in there when she locked up.’
‘It’s possible. They look like trainer marks, but I can’t say when they got there, plus someone might have stood on the seat to fix the cistern. I’ve removed the seat and I’ll take it back to the lab for a closer examination.’
‘What about the Chubb key? Do you think you’ll get a print off it?’
‘I’m going to try a new technique using superglue.’
‘Superglue? How does that work?’
‘I’ll put the keys in a glass tank next to a tray with some superglue in it. Heating the glue makes it vaporise and releases fumes into the container. The vapours adhere to any fingerprints, making them visible, then I can enhance them by using dyes or powders. However, it’s a bit of a slow process and can take a day or two.’
‘Fingers crossed you get something, and it’s not Fiona Simpson’s print.’