Page 119 of In Too Deep

“Mr Simmons.” Harrison held up his warrant card, despite Brodie knowing exactly who he was. But he got satisfaction from the response. Petty? Of course. “Might I have a word?”

Brodie rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “Bit early, innit?”

“We try to keep to office hours where possible.” Harrison pocketed the warrant card. “Though murder investigations rarely cooperate.”

That sharpened him, and he leaned on the doorframe, folding his arms. The joggers dipped low on his hips, so Harrison roamed his gaze downward. They weren’t low enough. The tattoo would sit far lower than that. No chance of this getting over and done with quickly then.

“What’s this about?”

“Do you know a Lauren Pike?”

Brodie pretended to think about it while pushing platinum-blond hair back from his face. Harrison observed the performance.

“No,” Brodie said eventually. “Should I?”

“She was from Hull.”

Brodie shrugged. “Lot of people from Hull, Detective.”

“Granted. But she moved in similar circles.”

“Code word for?”

“Vice.”

Brodie snorted.

“Would probably be easier if I came in.” Harrison nodded at the flat beyond him. “Unless there’s some reason you’d rather I didn’t?”

Brodie regarded him up and down before pushing away from the doorway and wandering back inside. Harrison took that as invitation enough and followed him into the flat. It was small. Smaller than Jake’s place. Untidy. A mattress shoved into one corner behind a hanging sheet instead of a proper dividing wall. Clothes draped over chairs. Cheap LED strips pinned unevenly along the ceiling. A television muttered static quietly near the kitchenette.

Transient without looking entirely temporary.

Not quite home.

Not nowhere either.

Brodie dropped onto the sofa bed and stretched out across it barefoot, heels propped on the coffee table while Harrison remained standing near the doorway. There was something to be said for looking as though a conversation wouldn’t take long.

“I’m sure you’ve seen the recent news,” Harrison began.

Brodie waggled his toes but said nothing.

“Lauren Pike was recovered from the River Hart near the Lancaster Industrial Estate.”

Brodie stared at the television screen as if the conversation bored him.

“Our enquiries traced her back to Hull,” Harrison continued. “Known street worker operating around Hessle Road.”

That finally earned him a glance. Small. Quick. But there.

“Hence my visit,” Harrison said. “We requested details for known associates and individuals with potential links between Hull and Hartswick. Anyone who might help establish why Lauren Pike ended up here.” He waited a moment. Then, “Do you still maintain you don’t know her.”

“No, Detective. I don’t.”

“Nor why she might have come to Hartswick.”

“Why do any of us?”