Lestrade and Greenaway drove most of the way in silence, but by the way the younger officer fidgeted in his seat Greg knew he had questions.
"Ask." He said quietly, not taking his eyes off the road.
"Well Sir, I overheard some of the lads on one of the other teams talking about Sergeant Donovan." Greenaway sounded uncomfortable. "They said she's been suspended pending a disciplinary. Is that right?"
"It seems to me," Greg grimaced. "That some people, in the absence of facts make it up as they go along. Not a good trait in a police officer."
"That's a no then?"
"No Greenaway, she has not been suspended."
Silence settled over the car once more, until Greg sighed.
"Look, she was a school friend of the murder victim out at Fulham. The job's ours, so I've loaned her out to another team to make it easier for her." He shot a glance across at his passenger, noting that he was nodding thoughtfully.
"Problem?"
"No Sir." Greenaway jumped guiltily.
"Good. Now, mind on the job, let's see what atrocities this turf war has thrown up at us."
Pulling smoothly to a halt just outside the cordon tape, Greg stalked across to the white forensics tent.
"How did they die?" he asked Anderson.
The forensic lead pointed to the first body. "Bullet"