Ghosts : A Detective Jason Smith thriller (A DS Jason Smith Thriller Book 17) by Stewart Giles

Author:Stewart Giles [Giles , Stewart]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: STILL Books
Published: 2022-02-24T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY

Smith found out about the press conference as he and Whitton were on their way out of the station. It was just before six and they were about to head home. Chalmers was on his way out too.

“How did you persuade the Super to go along with it?” Smith asked the DCI.

“The trick with old Smyth is to put an idea in his head,” Chalmers said. “And make him think it was his idea all along. He fell for it hook, line and sinker.”

“It’s a brilliant idea,” Whitton said. “We all know how the scumbags on the Tang Hall feel about the police. When nobody comes forward with any information, the press can’t blame us for not making an effort.”

“I couldn’t give a toss about Wayne Clegg,” Chalmers said. “Do you remember him?”

“The name rings a bell.”

“It was just before your time, Whitton,” Chalmers said. “Someone was robbing post offices all over the city. It was mid-winter and half of CID were off with the flu. Your husband there was still a wet-behind-the-ears PC, but I saw some potential and I brought him onto the team. He pretty much cracked the case on his own.”

“I got a bit of luck,” Smith said.

“Luck, my arse. I remember you looked into what the rest of us didn’t even think about. Anyway, Clegg was the main man in the armed robberies, and he was sent down for ten years. He managed to get another five added on when he was inside for almost killing a prison officer.”

“I remember him,” Smith said. “He wasn’t much of a hard man back then if I recall. More of a wannabe gangster.”

“Prison made him mean,” Chalmers said. “He went to the gym every day – bulked up and by the time he came out he was an even nastier piece of work than when he went in. The prison system failed that one.”

“And now he’s dead,” Whitton said.

“And good riddance to him,” Smith added. “What time is the press conference?”

“In an hour’s time.”

“Old Smyth isn’t expecting us to attend, is he?” Whitton asked.

“That won’t be necessary,” Chalmers said. “The old fool wants all the glory to himself. Right, I’d better be off – Mrs Chalmers is making her famous Beef Wellington and I’d better get a few drams of whiskey inside of me before I have to eat it.”

“That bad, is it?” Whitton said.

“Worse. Lucky for me I’ve got strong teeth. I’ll see you bright and early in the morning.”

“I miss Chalmers,” Whitton said as they drove home. “Work isn’t the same since he was promoted to DCI.”

“He’s the reason I’m still here,” Smith said. “If it wasn’t for Chalmers, I’d have been out on my ear years ago. Does this thing go any faster?”

Whitton looked at the speedometer. “I’m doing the speed limit. This is a thirty zone.”

“There’s hardly any cars on the road,” Smith said. “You can put your foot down a bit.”

The roads were strangely quiet. The gridlock from earlier in the day had died to next to nothing.

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