Death in Dark Waters by Patricia Hall

Author:Patricia Hall [Hall, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, Police Procedural
ISBN: 9781429926577
Google: GxRf3aABkDMC
Amazon: 0749006668
Barnesnoble: 0749006668
Goodreads: 26762
Publisher: Minotaur Books
Published: 2002-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Laura Ackroyd drove back to the Project on the Heights that lunch-time out of a sense of obligation rather than with any enthusiasm. She had spent much of the morning trying to persuade Ted Grant to find some space in the paper for a feature on the drug problems of Wuthering but without much success. His attention, never long-lasting, had switched overnight to the threat that the flood defences - protecting low-lying parts of the town - were about to be overwhelmed by the rain which had been relentless for most of the winter. Reporters had been dispatched to talk to threatened householders, photographers sent out to snap the teetering walls of sandbags which were all that now protected some streets from inundation, page layouts had been sketched out and possible headlines tossed around the editorial meeting: Laura’s argument that there was an equally serious crisis on the Heights met blank looks of incomprehension. In exasperation she had called the magazine editor in London for whom she had written before, but gained only an equivocal promise to think about the idea and let her know.

“Don’t call us, we’ll call you,” she muttered as she heard the phone go down at the other end. “Thanks a bunch.”

“First sign of madness, talking to yourself,” Bob Baker had hissed in her ear as he passed behind her desk. “And by the way, I can’t get anyone at police HQ to take your murdered druggie seriously. I should stick to knitting patterns if I were you, love. Leave crime to those who understand it.”

Laura had swung round on her chair but Baker was already out of reach. Turning back to her computer screen angrily she wondered what would have happened if she had hit him. The sack did not seem too unpleasant a prospect today.

She parked as close as she could to the Project and wondered who owned the dark blue BMW which stood by the kerb on the other side of the road. She did not think much of its chances of survival, although the cluster of youths who habitually loitered around the flats appeared to be keeping well back in the shadows under the walkways on this occasion. She was aware of their hostile eyes following her progress across the muddy pathway to the doors of the Project.

Once inside she was surprised to find herself confronting a tall black man in designer jeans, expensive leather jacket and tigerish aspect.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Sorry?” Laura said.

“Who are you?” the self-appointed gate-keeper demanded, barring Laura’s way with a faint smile and unfriendly eyes.

“I’m looking for my grandmother. She works here,” Laura said, attempting without success to sidle past her interrogator.

“Grandma?” The expression was incredulous now.

“Joyce,” Laura insisted. “Can I come in please?”

“Oh, that grandma,” the man said. “So you must be Laura?”

“If it’s any business of yours,” Laura said, feeling her temper, already reduced to the shortest of fuses by her morning in the office, flare again.

“You’d better go through then.”

“Who are you anyway?” Laura insisted.

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