Power Shift by Judith Cutler |
Hidden Power (A DS Kate Power Crime Novel) by Judith Cutler |
Power on Her Own (Kate Power, 1) by Judith Cutler |
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Synopsis
Still finding her feet in Birmingham, DS Kate Power is back in the Fraud Squad, under-staffed, under-funded and under the leadership of a hostile boss, jealous of Kate's relationship with DI Graham Harvey. But if Graham's marriage keeps him from Kate, Kate's new case makes her neglect him: a complex case involving a forged will soon includes murder and an investigation into what may have been an unnatural death a generation ago.
Excerpted from Will Power by Judith Cutler. Copyright © 2002. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
DI Lizzie King pushed herself away from her desk, running a hand through her mop of red hair. ‘Now you ’re here, Power, I suppose we’ll just have to make the most of it, ’she said, by way of welcome to the Fraud Squad.
Kate Power nodded with matching enthusiasm. She’d worked in Fraud before, with varying degrees of pleasure.
Her relationship with Lizzie wasn’t among the high points.
But while she was awaiting the results of her inspectors’ exams, Personnel had moved her – still as a detective sergeant – from her squad in Birmingham’s city centre CID.
There might, of course, have been other reasons. The promotion to uniformed sergeant of one of Fraud ’s most experienced detective constables, for instance. And others she didn’t want to discuss with Lizzie.
‘Do you want me to pick up Bill ’s case-load?’ Kate asked, wondering when she ’d be invited to sit down.
Lizzie’s face said that no one could replace Bill. ‘Oh, why not? It’ll take Ben hours to fill you in, and weeks to train you. But until something else comes up, you might as well.’
‘Right. I’ll read through everything in the in-tray and then talk to Ben. Thanks, Gaffer,’ she added, with a smile even she didn’t think would be convincing, and made for the door.
‘Any idea how long you’ll be here?’
Kate turned back. ‘Your guess is as good as mine, Gaffer.’
After a morning’s unremitting poring over paperwork on which she had only the most slender of grasps, Kate allowed herself to stretch and look out of the window. No Ben this morning – he was in court. And – perhaps taking their cue from Lizzie – none of her other colleagues had gone out of their way to invite her to join them in the canteen for lunch.
That was their prerogative. Kate had had to earn respect and comradeship before; she could do it again, though she’d have preferred not to have the odds against her stacked quite so high. She could simply wander down to the canteen and take pot luck with the company. As it was, the bright sun called her. She owed herself a new summer outfit to celebrate the end of the exams, and this might be just the day to go hunting for it. And for lunch there was a Prêt à Manger close to Rackhams, which was where she could start her hunt.
So it was by genuine coincidence that as she crossed the Cathedral Close she ran into Graham Harvey. Genuine but delightful. Almost as delightful as the joyous disbelief in his face lightening his usually sombre features. Pity the joy had to be suppressed and transformed into a workaday nod.
‘All right, Kate?’
After all these months, she still couldn’t get her head round the Brummie greeting as anything other than an enquiry after her health. ‘Fine. And you?’
‘Fine. What are you doing?’
It would have been nice if he hadn’t had to look furtively round as he asked. But that was the price you had to pay, she supposed, if you were illicit lovers. No matter how hard they tried to keep the relationship secret, rumours started.
Hence, probably, Lizzie’s hostility. Lizzie was a fully paid-up member of the DCI Harvey Fan Club. Had been for years, according to gossip, which added that they’d once been lovers. Whether this was true or not, Graham was still married to the woman he always referred to simply as ‘my wife’, though a little espionage by Aunt Cassie in her residential home had disclosed that she not only had a first name, but that it was Flavia.
‘Going to buy a sandwich,’ she said. Her smile invited him to join her.
He looked at his watch, shaking his head. ‘I’ve got a meeting. Look, what time are you finishing tonight?’
‘Sixish, unless anything comes up.’
‘If I dropped in at – let ’s say seven? – you’d be home by then? I’ll phone if I can ’t make it.’
‘Not at work,’ she said, too quickly.
His eyebrows shot up. She said, evasively, ‘Lizzie’s hot on personal phone calls.’
‘I could make it police work.’ He pulled himself up and put on his official voice. ‘DCI Harvey, here – can I speak to DS Power?’ And he grinned, looking less like the school-master for which he could usually be taken than a mischievous schoolboy.
It was hard to respond sensibly, but she did. ‘She ’d want to know why, chapter and verse. Just leave a message on my answerphone. No message, and I’ll get the beer into the fridge.’
‘I’ll be putting on weight.’ No smile. This might not be a joke.
She couldn’t quip back that she knew ways of exercising calories off. Not yet. Graham was still too anxious a lover. So they exchanged smiles, no more, and went their ways.
Beer was supposed to be evidence to Graham’s wife that he’d had a drink with the lads on the way home. Most evenings he did and his squad was – Kate was sure –the happier for it. But the occasional evening – an hour of the occasional evening – was theirs.
What if Lizzie wanted her to work late? Abandoning the shopping, she scuttled back to work. An extra half-hour’s effort now might just save their evening.
Still finding her feet in Birmingham, DS Kate Power is back in the Fraud Squad, under-staffed, under-funded and under the leadership of a hostile boss, jealous of Kate's relationship with DI Graham Harvey. But if Graham's marriage keeps him from Kate, Kate's new case makes her neglect him: a complex case involving a forged will soon includes murder and an investigation into what may have been an unnatural death a generation ago.
Excerpted from Will Power by Judith Cutler. Copyright © 2002. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
DI Lizzie King pushed herself away from her desk, running a hand through her mop of red hair. ‘Now you ’re here, Power, I suppose we’ll just have to make the most of it, ’she said, by way of welcome to the Fraud Squad.
Kate Power nodded with matching enthusiasm. She’d worked in Fraud before, with varying degrees of pleasure.
Her relationship with Lizzie wasn’t among the high points.
But while she was awaiting the results of her inspectors’ exams, Personnel had moved her – still as a detective sergeant – from her squad in Birmingham’s city centre CID.
There might, of course, have been other reasons. The promotion to uniformed sergeant of one of Fraud ’s most experienced detective constables, for instance. And others she didn’t want to discuss with Lizzie.
‘Do you want me to pick up Bill ’s case-load?’ Kate asked, wondering when she ’d be invited to sit down.
Lizzie’s face said that no one could replace Bill. ‘Oh, why not? It’ll take Ben hours to fill you in, and weeks to train you. But until something else comes up, you might as well.’
‘Right. I’ll read through everything in the in-tray and then talk to Ben. Thanks, Gaffer,’ she added, with a smile even she didn’t think would be convincing, and made for the door.
‘Any idea how long you’ll be here?’
Kate turned back. ‘Your guess is as good as mine, Gaffer.’
After a morning’s unremitting poring over paperwork on which she had only the most slender of grasps, Kate allowed herself to stretch and look out of the window. No Ben this morning – he was in court. And – perhaps taking their cue from Lizzie – none of her other colleagues had gone out of their way to invite her to join them in the canteen for lunch.
That was their prerogative. Kate had had to earn respect and comradeship before; she could do it again, though she’d have preferred not to have the odds against her stacked quite so high. She could simply wander down to the canteen and take pot luck with the company. As it was, the bright sun called her. She owed herself a new summer outfit to celebrate the end of the exams, and this might be just the day to go hunting for it. And for lunch there was a Prêt à Manger close to Rackhams, which was where she could start her hunt.
So it was by genuine coincidence that as she crossed the Cathedral Close she ran into Graham Harvey. Genuine but delightful. Almost as delightful as the joyous disbelief in his face lightening his usually sombre features. Pity the joy had to be suppressed and transformed into a workaday nod.
‘All right, Kate?’
After all these months, she still couldn’t get her head round the Brummie greeting as anything other than an enquiry after her health. ‘Fine. And you?’
‘Fine. What are you doing?’
It would have been nice if he hadn’t had to look furtively round as he asked. But that was the price you had to pay, she supposed, if you were illicit lovers. No matter how hard they tried to keep the relationship secret, rumours started.
Hence, probably, Lizzie’s hostility. Lizzie was a fully paid-up member of the DCI Harvey Fan Club. Had been for years, according to gossip, which added that they’d once been lovers. Whether this was true or not, Graham was still married to the woman he always referred to simply as ‘my wife’, though a little espionage by Aunt Cassie in her residential home had disclosed that she not only had a first name, but that it was Flavia.
‘Going to buy a sandwich,’ she said. Her smile invited him to join her.
He looked at his watch, shaking his head. ‘I’ve got a meeting. Look, what time are you finishing tonight?’
‘Sixish, unless anything comes up.’
‘If I dropped in at – let ’s say seven? – you’d be home by then? I’ll phone if I can ’t make it.’
‘Not at work,’ she said, too quickly.
His eyebrows shot up. She said, evasively, ‘Lizzie’s hot on personal phone calls.’
‘I could make it police work.’ He pulled himself up and put on his official voice. ‘DCI Harvey, here – can I speak to DS Power?’ And he grinned, looking less like the school-master for which he could usually be taken than a mischievous schoolboy.
It was hard to respond sensibly, but she did. ‘She ’d want to know why, chapter and verse. Just leave a message on my answerphone. No message, and I’ll get the beer into the fridge.’
‘I’ll be putting on weight.’ No smile. This might not be a joke.
She couldn’t quip back that she knew ways of exercising calories off. Not yet. Graham was still too anxious a lover. So they exchanged smiles, no more, and went their ways.
Beer was supposed to be evidence to Graham’s wife that he’d had a drink with the lads on the way home. Most evenings he did and his squad was – Kate was sure –the happier for it. But the occasional evening – an hour of the occasional evening – was theirs.
What if Lizzie wanted her to work late? Abandoning the shopping, she scuttled back to work. An extra half-hour’s effort now might just save their evening.
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