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Dead is dead, whether the body turns up in a skip or on silk sheets. But there's something about parts of a person being flat on the A4 just a hop south of roses and tidy front walks that makes Matt swallow more than once as he and Ronnie duck under the tape 'round the scene.
"Male. Early 20s, far as I can tell," Joy shares without looking up from the bloodstained road, breath white in the pre-dawn air. "When we find all the teeth..."
"We'll wait on your ID, yeah," Ronnie says, his mouth tight.
There's a white-faced uniform hovering. "Any of those got an account of what happened?" Matt asks, nodding to draw the man's attention from the techs to the females who are standing shocky and blue in the flashing lights. "We're not here for an unfortunate stumble," he prompts.
"No, sir. I mean, yes...sir, yes. She. PC Watts told them to stand right there, sir."
No surprise that someone so damn young pulled this shift, but it would have been easier to have a veteran standing over this body. Matt glances over, gets a nod and grimace from Ronnie--authority tempered with fatherly care is the better approach, here, while charm might be the ticket to success with two young ladies still dressed for a night at the clubs.
Ronnie moves in to engage the uniform with his fellows in the effort to keep things moving apace. Can't bring the morning rush to a standstill before it hits the center of London, after all.
Turning to the shivering witnesses, Matt squares his shoulders and finds his best smile.
**
Four hours later, the sun is well up along with all the people of Hammersmith except the necessary one--a combination that makes Matt very nearly grab for the coffee in Ronnie's outstretched hand.
"You lifesaver." He keeps an eye on the tube station as he brings the cup up just far enough to draw in the smell. "Ta."
"Getting busy," Ronnie says, squinting across the now-steady foot traffic along Goldhawk Road. They both watch as one person after another pushes mindlessly through the turnstiles to catch the next train passing overhead.
Matt leans even more into the building at his back and lets the coffee warm his hands. Only three hours in his bed before the call came; he's not ready for the jolt a sip will give him. And he's certainly not thinking enviously of the pastry Ronnie's finishing, as he complains, "Do you have any idea how many 20-something white males there are in this area with bags that could possibly hold a laptop?"
"No, but I trust you've kept count."
"Thirty-seven in the last half hour. And not a one is Johnny Waters. I know the girlfriend insists today is when the investors come, but it's hard to think he believes the way to cap off a morning of pushing his business partner into the road is to just head into the office like any other Tuesday."
Ronnie doesn't shrug, but it's there in his voice. "No sign that he's returned to his flat. Uniform are at his office, and on lookout at every station between here and Earl's Court. Buck up, Mattie," he says with a tight-lipped smile that Matt obligingly rolls his eyes at. "It's only a matter of time before we'll see him."
"Especially with Angie on the CCTV," Matt agrees. "That's just it. We've eyes everywhere, he has to know it, and yet you still think--" He stops, looks down at the photo in his hand, and then pulls himself straight with a sigh. "That I should never underestimate the ego of a want-to-be millionaire. To the left: blue messenger, black suit, no tie."
Ronnie's already moving across the road. Matt's the one who gets to shove Waters into someone's shrubbery, though, when he actually tries to duck and run. And the rebound into the cars parked against the house provides a solid spot to get the cuffs on while Ronnie calmly informs Waters of his right to remain silent.
**
Alesha's being polite about it, but she's laughing at him. And Matt knows that not everyone would understand why that makes this day almost worthwhile.
"You really didn't have to bring all this over yourself," she says.
Matt sidesteps the pile of boxes holding the contents of Carl Hingham's and John Waters' lives to place the precious laptop on her desk and grin down at her. "Wouldn't want this wandering. What it holds is worth near to five million. And that's just what someone would pay to learn how to beat it."
"Boys and videogames." She shakes her head, still smiling.
"Well, at least this one is a more compelling reason for murder than wanting your mate's new Xbox."
Her eyebrows rise at that. "Not without its creator, apparently."
"Waters had no knowledge of that clause," Matt points out. "Nice, tight motive, there. Between that and the girlfriend's account--"
"We'll have no trouble with a conviction," she finishes for him. "Which is why..."
Matt looks away, unsure how to put forward the half-thought idea he'd had when Chandler said she was off to talk her boys into playing some board game for the night. Scanning the books and files and wood paneling, he finds himself wondering again what it would be like to work in such an orderly, mannered place. Just as many rules as he's used to, but such a fantastically different environment from the ordered chaos of the precinct and the unpredictability of the street. A hell of a lot less dangerous to body and mind, he's sure. He'd go mental in a week.
"I've seen the crime scene photos," Alesha says, quieter than before. "Rough one." It's not a question.
He turns back to her, surprised but not worried; she's seen worse, he knows. There's no disgust on her face. What's in her eyes now is concern, and understanding. And it loosens the rest of what was in him.
"Yeah," he agrees.
He's about to fumble his way through something more when another woman walks by the door with a wave for Alesha, who returns the wish for a good night. Around the CPS, Matt suddenly notices, others are clearing out. Even Steel's office is dimmed, and outside the windows the sky has gone fully dark. It's the last push he needs, and he gives a nod to the pile of boxes. "This all can wait until tomorrow?"
Alesha's head cocks. "It's the definition of straightforward."
"Fancy a drink, then?"
Her mouth opens, and Matt's half-braced for the brush off he's gotten used to. She pauses, though, her eyes still on his, and then she nods. "We were planning to head to the pub, but James got called away for..." She waves a hand, inadequately miming whatever had set Steel off on an unexpected path this time even as she shrugs it away. "Give me 10 minutes?"
Struggling to give in to a huge smile, Matt glances around before giving her an innocent look. "Shall I wait in the corner until called?"
"No," she laughs, and points at the desk outside her door, trying to put on a stern face. "Sit there. Don't touch anything. And don't be at me with questions, or it'll be longer."
"Yes, mum," he says immediately. She snorts, and the smile finally breaks free when she comes around her desk to give him a playful shove on her way over to the wall of filing. It's going to be an even longer day than he'd planned, but that's shaping up to be just what he needs.