Stranded by Val McDermid Page B

crucified.’
    Sarah sat down. ‘I’ve been giving this some thought. The grudge theory has broken down because you can’t find a link between the companies, am I right?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Have you thought about the effect unemployment has on crime?’
    â€˜Burglary, shoplifting, mugging, vandalism, drugs, yes. But surely not mass poisoning, love.’
    â€˜There’s so much bitterness there, Maggie. So much hatred. I’ve often felt like murdering those incompetent tossers who destroyed Liddell’s and threw me on the scrapheap. Did you think about people who’ve been given the boot?’
    â€˜We did think about it. But only a handful of people have worked for all three companies. None of them have any reason to hold a grudge. And none of them have any connection with Burnalder.’
    â€˜There’s another aspect, though, Maggie. It only hit me when I read the paper tonight. The News has a big piece about the parent companies who make the three products. Now, I’d swear that each one of those companies has advertised in the last couple of months for management executives. I know, I applied for two of the jobs. I didn’t even get interviewed because I’ve got no experience in the food industry, only in plastics. There must be other people in the same boat, maybe less stable than I am.’
    â€˜My God!’ Maggie breathed. She pushed her plate away. The colour had returned to her cheeks and she seemed to have found fresh energy. She got up and hugged Sarah fiercely. ‘You’ve given us the first positive lead in this whole bloody case. You’re a genius!’
    â€˜I hope you’ll remember that when they give you your inspector’s job.’
    Maggie grinned on her way out the door. ‘I owe you one. I’ll see you later.’
    As the front door slammed, Sarah said ironically, ‘I hope it’s not too late already, babe.’
    Detective Inspector Bill Nicholson had worked with Maggie Staniforth for two years. His initial distrust of her gender had been broken down by her sheer grasp of the job. Now he was wont to describe her as ‘a bloody good copper in spite of being a woman’, as if this were a discovery uniquely his, and a direct product of working for him. As she unfolded Sarah’s suggestion, backed by photostats of newspaper advertisements culled from the local paper’s files, he realised for the first time she was probably going to leapfrog him on the career ladder before too long. He didn’t like the idea, but he wasn’t prepared to let that stand between him and a job of work.
    They started on the long haul of speaking directly to the personnel officers of the three companies. It meant quartering the country and they knew they were working against the clock. Back in Burnalder, a team of detectives was phoning companies who had advertised similar vacancies, asking for lists of applicants. The lumbering machinery of the law was in gear.
    On the evening of the second day, an exhausted Maggie arrived home. Six hundred and thirty-seven miles of driving had taken their toll and she looked crumpled and older by ten years. Sarah helped her out of her coat and poured her a stiff drink in silence.
    â€˜You were right,’ Maggie sighed. ‘We’ve got the name and address of a man who has been rejected by all three firms after the first interview. We’re moving in on him tonight. If he sticks to his pattern, he’ll be aiming to strike again tomorrow. So with luck, it’ll be a red-handed job.’ She sounded grim and distant. ‘What a bloody waste. Twelve lives because he can’t get a bloody job.’
    â€˜I can understand it,’ Sarah said abruptly and went through to the kitchen.
    Maggie stared after her, shocked but comprehending. She felt again the low rumble of anger inside her against a system that set her to catch the people it had so often made its