Tropical
Episode 18 of the June Murders
Collins took the Tube to work. It was 7.30 a.m. and already the Underground was heating up. The red brick of the Salisbury Hotel basked in the sunshine as he walked by. It’s going to be like a sauna on the way home, he thought to himself. The newspapers had been warning that temperatures would be well above 30 degrees today. London temperatures were likely to match or exceed those in Madrid or Rome (if only for one day); a heatwave in English parlance. These days it seemed to happen every year and produced the familiar ripple of conversation. Some delighted in calling it “tropical;” others spoke more gloomily of heatstroke casualties and global apocalypse. Collins was certain of only two things: it wouldn’t last, and he’d be expected to work.
He planned to go through his notes in the office to check that he’d entered all pertinent information into the computerized current investigation program. If the latter was set up securely, he sneered, I could work from home. Bale’s office door was closed. Collins’ next job was to try the contact numbers for DCI Symonds. After a couple of minutes, he was eventually switched to a messagebox. It’s going to be one of those days, he felt.
Symonds rang back about half an hour later. Apparently, there were grass fires in Hertfordshire on either side of the M1 with smoke blowing across six…
