Beryl
pressed a hand firmly to his chest. “All of which can be left in
the capable hands of Sergeant Peters.”
“But he
doesn't have the connections...”
“I'm quite
sure he knows everyone you know.” Beryl pulled up a plastic
hospital chair and reached for his hand. “It won't hurt for one
day, will it? Perhaps being without your guiding hands he can pursue
avenues of investigation that would otherwise be left unexplored.”
“That
sounds like something the Chief would say.”
“Well
perhaps I'm not as daft as I'm cabbage looking.”
“There is
that. You are my favourite brassica.” White squeezed her hand. “I
didn't mean people connections, anyway. I meant...” He used his
free hand to tap his temple. “Conections in the brain. He doesn't
have the experience yet to see the big picture, the spider web of
patterns and correlations.”
“He can't
be that bad if he's sitting his inspector's exam.”
“Oh, he'll
pass that. He's bright, all right, though don't you let on I said so.
I shall miss him.”
“Miss him?
Why?”
“He'll be
transferred to uniform division. He can't be a DI until he's been an
I.”
“You'll
find another lad worthy of your tutelage.” She patted his hand.
“Perhaps that young WPC you had your eye on.”
“I did not
'have my eye on her' as you so delicately put it. That was the
trouble, I think. I treated her the same as the others.” He
frowned. “And you're not allowed to call the WPCs any more. They're
police officers, just the same as the lads.”
“Still,
you've other sergeants.”
“Sergeant
Wilde. She's a strange one. Stares into space sometimes. Miles away.
Then has some flash of insight into a case and cracks it wide open on
a hunch. Clever, but she has t be careful to follow the evidence.
“Perhaps
you could take her under your wing.”
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