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thinking, Mark?’
    ‘Anna Maria makes a prearranged rendezvous with her new dealer. He doesn’t show, so she goes to Marshall Street Baths where she knows she can score.’
    ‘It’s all chained up,’ said Jessie disagreeing.
    ‘If the addicts and dealers can get in, so can anyone.’
    Jessie didn’t think so, not in those heels.
    ‘We think something happened to her inside the building,’ said Moore.
    ‘I see,’ said Jessie. And she did. ‘What do you want me to do?’ she asked. Knowing the answer. It was in those knowing looks.
    ‘Nothing. It’s DI Ward’s case. It’s a high-profile assignment, Driver, so it’s probably better handled by Mark until last year’s debacle is forgotten about.’ Jessie tried to remain passive. ‘Aren’t you pleased? You didn’t seem very interested in it yesterday.’
    She wasn’t pleased. Being uninterested and being uninvolved are two different things. She’d messed it up with Moore, she admitted, and it was her own fault, but she couldn’t understand why Mark was so happy to put the boot in. Just in case she was being paranoid, she tried a final litmus test. Principles of reason.
    ‘Ma’am, there was nothing in Anna Maria’s body language to indicate that she was waiting for anyone,’ said Jessie. ‘The poor creatures inMarshall Street Baths aren’t going to attack anyone. They’re there because they’ve got the money, they’ve scored, and the only thing they can think about is the fix, which once administered renders them impotent.’
    ‘That does not apply to the dealers,’ contradicted Mark. ‘And Anna Maria stood out like a sore thumb.’
    ‘Exactly. You don’t buy drugs in broad daylight in a fake-fur coat and six-inch heels.’
    ‘You didn’t see what she was wearing when she got busted last time,’ Moore interjected.
    Jessie knew when she was outnumbered. ‘So what are you going to do?’
    ‘Search Marshall Street Baths,’ said Moore. ‘As soon as possible.’
    ‘And you really expect to find her in there?’
    This question was followed by an exchange of glances between Ward and Moore. ‘We just hope it’s not too late and she’s still alive.’
    They’d failed the test. She wasn’t being paranoid.
    A thousand arguments and counter-arguments revolved around Jessie’s head as she returned to her office.
We
think something happened to her?
We
hope she’s still alive?
We
? Moore had only been in the building twenty-four hours and already they were a ‘we’. Where the hell was Jones? Surely he wouldn’t leave her like this, surely he’d have given her a heads up, some warning that DCI Moorewas one of those women who pulled the ladder up behind them. Obviously Jessie wasn’t going to appreciate Moore’s legs folded provocatively over her desk, so of course Mark should get the case. It stood to reason, thought Jessie as she unconsciously pulled the slides out of her hair and let her fringe fall across her eyes. She would have been willing to dance to Moore’s tune, but not if she was the only one dancing. Jessie slumped into her chair, deflated and a little scared. Jones had made the differences between Mark and herself work. Under his guidance, Ward and Driver were quite a good balancing act. Not good cop, bad cop, but old cop, new cop. With Moore and Ward in bed together, it would turn what had been complementary back to being contrary. A horrendous thought passed through Jessie’s head. Mark and Moore in bed together, actually in bed together.
    ‘If that happens, I’m putting myself in for a transfer,’ she said aloud.
    ‘If what happens?’
    Jessie looked up. Mark had pushed the door open with his foot. He was holding a box of files.
    ‘Gee, thanks for the support back there, Mark.’
    ‘What did you want me to do, climb up on the gallows next to you?’
    ‘No. Just act like a reasonable human being and take your nose out of Moore’s arse.’
    ‘Oh dear, are you a little worried because you’re not the teacher’s