Deadly Friends by Stuart Pawson

Author:Stuart Pawson [Stuart Pawson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780749010492
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2011-10-15T16:00:00+00:00

I was dozing behind my desk, feet on radiator, when Nigel rang. If I’d been at home in bed I wouldn’t have slept a wink. It’s as if you need some discomfort to divert your attention. It was just before one a.m., Saturday morning.

‘We’ve spoken to the neighbours,’ he said.

‘Go on.’

‘Samantha lives in a council house that she rented with her boyfriend, but he left months ago. The neighbours who brought her in say they heard a noise at their door at about a quarter to eleven and found her slumped on the floor. They don’t have a phone so the husband decided to bring her in himself, thought it would be quicker. The neighbours at the other side heard a car door, possibly a bit before that, and the sound of it driving away. Nothing special, possibly a diesel.’

‘Or a taxi?’

‘Possibly.’

‘Great.’ I told him who Samantha was, and that I was going to ask uniformed to arrest her boss, Darryl the Rapist.

‘On what grounds?’ he asked.

‘On the grounds that Samantha was scared stiff when I mentioned his name. Whoever worked her over was wearing gloves. If we can find them we have him. See you here about ten, eh?’

‘Ten it is, Boss.’

‘Get some sleep. Darryl and his solicitor are about to have theirs disturbed.’

It took another hour to organise lifting Darryl and searching his house. I rang a lady magistrate I do regular business with and she agreed to sign a warrant. We despatched a panda to collect it. After that I went home and set my alarm for seven o’clock, five hours away. I slept quite well, but was waiting for the alarm.

I drove straight round to Canalside Mews. Two pandas were parked outside and young Graham opened the door for me.

‘Any luck?’ I asked.

‘’Fraid not, Mr Priest. We haven’t found any gloves at all. There’s three gold rings in the bedroom, and SOCO’s taken imprints.’

‘Right,’ I said.

The flat was a dump. Men who live alone are granted a certain amount of dispensation in the field of housekeeping, but this went beyond that. His white tux and the frilly shirt were thrown on to the settee, next to several days’ tabloids. A dirty plate and mug were on the table, and my detective skills told me that his last meal had been sardines. I wandered through the rooms, taking in the squalor and wondering what his classy neighbours would have thought. He hadn’t washed up for two days and his bedroom smelt like a horsebox. I opened a window. On a chair was a pile of pages from newspapers. I picked a bundle up and thumbed through them. He’d saved every page-three girl for the last six months.

‘Gather round, boys and girls,’ I called out.

There were three of them, Graham’s partner – Claire – still being at the hospital. When I was a rooky PC on nightshift my partner was David Sparkington. Such is life.

‘I appreciate it’s Saturday and you should all be home in bed,’ I said, ‘but are you all right for staying a little longer?’

They nodded.

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