Detective Inspector Victor Bakare and his team were with them fifteen minutes later. Bakare took in their shabby track suits with no comment but a sardonically raised eyebrow. Gabriel told the policeman what he knew of Hannah’s disappearance and the circumstances that had brought him to Chelsea Bridge. Gabriel appeared calm, but James could hear his heart thundering, and see the horrified glances he darted towards the corpse.
James didn’t look at the body. All of his other senses were too well aware of it. Instead, he watched the police investigating the scene, taking photographs, measuring things, and bagging up potential evidence. One officer in particular was staring at the two of them; staring at him. She was a plainclothes detective, her dark brown eyes glared at him in a strange fashion – both judgemental and pitying.
The looks she gave Gabriel were harsher still. Suspicious and angry. James knew she had it the wrong way around. If she’d understood anything about them at all, she’d have known that James was the one deserving of suspicion and rage.
He returned his attention to Gabriel and the DI. Bakare was giving James pointed sidelong looks.
Gabriel, with a sigh, took the hint. ‘Detective Inspector Victor Bakare, this is Doctor James Sharpe.’
Bakare arched an eyebrow at James without offering a hand to shake. ‘And you’re Gabe’s what? Jogging partner? Street buddy? Boyfriend? Parole officer?’
‘I’m his landlord,’ said James, deadpan.
‘His landlord.’ Bakare packed an awful lot of scepticism into three syllables, a talent for which he thanked his Nigerian forbears.
James offered a mild smile. ‘I take the vetting procedure very seriously. Tomorrow, I’m following him to the gallery to decide whether he’s a good enough artist to stay under my roof.’
Bakare was unimpressed. ‘I do love a comedian,’ he said flatly. ‘Especially at a murder scene where someone’s been butchered and burned to death.’
James sighed ruefully. ‘Dr James Sharpe. I work at the Lester Avenue clinic. Gabriel does rent a room from me, and I offered to accompany him when he got the note to come here.’
‘More than a landlord then, eh?’
‘Friends,’ asserted James.
‘Plus,’ interjected Gabriel lightly, ‘trustworthy tenants are hard to come by, I expect, and James didn’t want his new one to be murdered all alone under Chelsea Bridge if he could help it. I’ve only just settled in.’
Gabriel’s eyes met James’s and there was that flash of humour again.
‘He’s paid ahead,’ said James drily. ‘So I’d have had some breathing space. Still. I like him a lot better than the last tenant; I’m hoping not to have to replace him soon.’
Bakare rolled his eyes at the pair of them. ‘You two were bloody made for each other.’
Gabriel turned away from them both. James looked at the dark ribbon of the Thames, with the lights glinting off the inky black. ‘Tide’s coming up.’
‘So it is,’ Bakare agreed. ‘Why don’t you go home, and come into the station tomorrow to sign your statements.’
‘I’m at my clinic tomorrow,’ said James. ‘I’ll come after work.’
‘Good. Ask for me or Sergeant Datta.’ Bakare indicated the dark-eyed, dark-skinned woman who had been giving James and Gabriel the unfriendly appraisals. ‘See you first thing, Gabe.’
Gabriel was watching the forensics team work on the site. ‘I won’t talk to Datta.’
‘Gabe…’
‘Vic, she doesn’t like me. She wants to pin this on me already and I didn’t bloody do it. I’ve been trying to find Hannah. Ben Tiller and Alicia Jarret too… what?’
Bakare hadn’t covered his surprise quickly enough. ‘This Alicia Jarret you’ve been looking for,’ he said, ‘Tell me about her.’
‘She went missing a week ago,’ said Gabriel. ‘She’d found a place in a shelter and then she vanished. One of her friends asked me to keep an eye out for her. No-one’s seen her, or heard a whisper. She didn’t show up on her usual corner to sell The Big Issue, she didn’t go to her clinic appointment. Nothing.’ Gabriel drew a breath. ‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’
‘Found the body this morning.’
‘Like Mulloway?’
‘Not burned like him, no. I’ll have to get the autopsy report before I can say anything else.’
Gabriel swore. ‘Wasn’t me,’ he said fiercely, ‘whatever your precious Sergeant Datta thinks.’
‘Why would she think you had anything to do with it?’ Bakare asked blandly.
‘You’ll have to ask her,’ said Gabriel. ‘The unreasonable prejudices of the Met have always been a mystery to me.’ He glanced over his shoulder to highlight the way Datta was glaring at him with her lip curled. He grimaced and waved at her.
She sneered back at him, then frowned at James.
James stepped closer to Gabriel. ‘Let’s get home,’ he said.
Gabriel jammed his hands into his pockets and glared at the policeman. ‘You’re going to investigate this properly,’ he demanded more than asked, ‘you’re going to find out who killed these people. They weren’t nothing. They deserved better. They deserve an effort, at least.’
James thought that Bakare might be outraged at the smear on his professionalism, but the DI didn’t react. ‘I’ll do everything I can, Gabe. I promise.’
Gabriel nodded curtly then strode up the banks, away from the incoming tide. James cast a final glance back at the unfathomable Sergeant Datta, and followed his friend away from the bridge.
Chapter Six
James slid the needle smoothly under the woman’s skin and into the vein. He could smell the blood, and hear its steady whoosh in the circulatory system when he listened closely enough. Those abilities, along with his preternaturally steady hand, made him a favourite at the clinic for taking blood samples.
He filled the two vials and withdrew the needle. He surreptitiously licked his thumb and passed it over the small puncture wound, so that it began to heal up almost at once. The healing properties of vampire saliva were pretty much the only advantage he’d gained from the transition. Mrs Kapur tended to bruise easily, and this was a simple thing he could do for her comfort. She was 72, and a good- hearted soul, and he figured she deserved any consideration that was so easy for him to give.
‘That’s all, Mrs Kapur. We’ll be in touch with your results.’
Mrs Kapur patted his arm. ‘Lovely, thank you, Doctor Sharpe.’
Then she giggled. ‘That’s the wrong name for you. You should be Doctor Gentle. I never feel it when you’re using the needle.’
‘All part of the service,’ he said, smiling at her as she left. Once the door was shut, he labelled one vial then he pulled the stopper out of the second and drank it.
Thyroid function down, and I’ll need to up her heart medication. He scribbled a note to transfer later to Mrs Kapur’s computer records. First, he had to get to the police station to sign his statement from last night’s incident.
He straightened his suit and tie as he left the clinic. Gabriel was there, striding in rapid, agitated steps up the path to the entrance, brow furrowed unhappily. His leather jacket was drawn close around his body, and the dark green scarf he wore was wound firmly around his throat. It was like he had armoured himself in wool and attitude.
‘Everything okay?’
Gabriel