Page 43 (1/2)
Arc-lights rigged inside the police peri site seelare hurt less than the sun At ht, Kate felt sharper, less muddy-headed than at dawn
Griffin lifted the sh shroud Laura Jane Belloas folded up inside a wheelbarrow She had long dark hair and white, white skin
&039;Gawd,&039; said Bellaver
Rogers looked critically, as if judging thethe corpse Dried blood was sirl&039;s throat Whoever had bitten her ht out, Laura had worn a black bikini, black thigh-boots and a black crochet poncho Witnesses would reirl had been identified quickly Her dabs were on file from a pot bust She hadn&039;t paid her fine So far as anyone could tell fro-round, Laura was an ordinary flower child Froinally - where was that? - she&039;d shared a flat off the King&039;s Road with two other girls After dropping out of college, she&039;d worked in a coffee bar and a travel agents but hadn&039;t stuck to either long She&039;d been scrounging rentto parties she wasn&039;t really invited to Kate recognised her as one of the incidental pretty faces in Nolan&039;s photos of the Fevre Dream bacchanal Girls like Laura Belloelcoainst speccy reporters would step aside at the flash of a se There was a downside Girls like Laura Bellows and Carol Thatcher weren&039;t in short supply Theirthem as disposable, to be used once or twice and throay
Laura&039;s friends ad about with Clive Landseer, who&039;d soon be quizzed about his unfortunate habit of knowing murder victims As a paid-off parasite, Landseer&039;s duties included trawling for biddable popsies to dress any social occasion On Saturday, he&039;d roped Laura in to decorate Syrie Van Epp&039;s boat bash She told her sceptical flatmates she was only expected to dance on the Fevre Dreaame worked Have a drink, have a pill, have some more, they&039;re just like Smarties This is an MP, be nice to him, chicken yes, he likes you, ouldn&039;t? Go into a cabin and have some fun you&039;ve seen him in the papers and on the telly, and he likes you loads We&039;re all fancy-free, chicken have another drink, another pill three&039;s not a crowd, you know, it&039;s an experience Try this, it&039;s called a purple passion you&039;ve no hang-ups, love, you&039;re not square, you&039;re an angel, a princess nothing you don&039;t want to do, and I&039;ll make it up to you, but I&039;d appreciate it another drink, another pill, another ht, Laura Bellows had been bitten and bled out Some time today, she had been dumped in a wheelbarrow
&039;We were supposed to find her to ork started,&039; said Bellaver &039;But kids "playing" turned her up Probably on the scrounge for stuff to nick, bless &039;em&039;
They were in Deptford, not far from Maryon Park
Five streets of back-to-back houses had been flattened, wrecking balls fro what the Luftwaffe couldn&039;t Three tower blocks were due up here Currently, it was a ghost coround, street-signs thrown in a pile, rubble and rubbish She&039;d been at the press launch where Sir Billy Langly proudly showed off the plans for his high-rises Critics likened them to vertical rabbit hutches or battery farms in the sky To Kate, they looked like coffins She&039;d spent decades trying to stay out of coffins
The dead girl had been left in place until B Division took a gander at her in situ The discovery of a body on the site wouldn&039;t hold up work The police - and Laura - should be gone before the builders brewed up their first Mondayround of tea
The body was supposed to be found Whoever the killer was, he didn&039;t care about secrecy He h profile These ht a &039;trade-name&039; next, like Jack the Ripper or the Steel Claw or the Peeping Tom
The Super told Griffin to take away the polythene
A St Bartolph&039;s scarf was knotted round Laura Bellows&039; white arm
&039;There it is, Katie,&039; Bellaver said &039;You were asking&039;
&039;Funny place to wear a scarf, Super,&039; said Griffin
&039;The ers
&039;I hate the ones who play parlour gaine they&039;re es, planting clues all over the place It means they think you can&039;t touch theers