Chapter 14Back in her police office, she e-mailed Superintendent Tom Mitchell:
“Important development in case of dead girl. Would be easier for me to talk.”
He replied almost at once.
“Zulu Delta canteen 1230. Sausage toad and chips lunch.”
She smiled. Since her first days in the police, sausage toad with HP brown sauce had been her favorite meal. Without it the Metropolitan Police would not function. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about food for twenty-four hours.
The top detective was a small man of her own height. He would barely have made the minimum limit of five-feet-eight inches when he had joined, probably around the age of eighteen. He looked like a thirty-year service guy. His thinning, slightly ginger hair was elaborately combed over a flaky scalp. He wore an old suit
