I Spy With My Little Die (A Right Royal Cozy Investigation Mystery): A female amateur sleuth cozy mystery with a hint of humour by Helen Golden

Author:Helen Golden [Golden, Helen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781915747112
Publisher: Drew Bradley Press
Published: 2023-09-26T16:00:00+00:00

26

9:30 AM, THURSDAY 4 FEBRUARY

“No, sir, I’m afraid we still can’t get hold of him.” Detective Sergeant Tina Spicer shook her head, then tucked a strand of blonde hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear.

“Well, now we need to find him urgently.” Detective Chief Inspector Richard Fitzwilliam was perched on the top of his desk in his office with his arms crossed, facing Spicer and her shadow, Detective Sergeant Bella Hardwick. “George Rockcliffe has, excuse the pun, rocketed to the top of our suspects list. He was either the last witness to see Street alive, or he’s the one who killed him.”

He’d already briefed the two sergeants on the results of the pathologist’s report and informed them he was now treating Street’s death as suspicious. Spicer had quickly recovered from the shock and was now alert, her eyes wide open and her hand on her phone. I bet she’s recording this briefing on that pesky app. Hardwick on the other hand, her head down and her eyes focussed on the cheap laminate floor, seemed to be struggling with the news that someone had most likely killed her mentor. “We know he flew to Malaga from Gatwick after he left here. See if we can find out if he hired a car and if so, where he was going. Maybe he was travelling with someone else on the flight? If so, check them out too.”

Spicer, typing into her phone, nodded. “I’ll go and see the wife, sir. She told Carol again first thing this morning that she’s not heard anything from him, but I find that hard to believe. It’s been almost three days. Maybe she’ll find it harder to lie to my face.”

“Yes. And put some pressure on her if you need to. Tell her that her husband will be in serious trouble if he doesn’t make contact with us within the next twelve hours. If we don’t hear from him then, I’ll be issuing a warrant for his arrest and sending it out via Europol.” Fitzwilliam stifled a groan. He really didn’t want to have to go down that route. The paperwork alone would bury him for half a day. But he couldn’t ignore that Rockcliffe might have fled the country after having killed Street. The longer they left it, the longer he would have to go deep into hiding and the more time he’d have to cover his tracks if he really was a murderer.

Spicer stood. “Yes, sir. I’m on it.” She scrolled on her phone. “The fingerprint analysis of the room has come back, sir, and it’s interesting.”

Fitzwilliam sat up straight. “Tell me.”

“They have identified fingerprints found in the office belonging to DCI Bird, Ruth Ness, DI Carmichael, the cleaner, and one set of unidentified prints. They’re not getting a hit on the system. They’re probably George Rockcliffe’s, but obviously, we’ll need to verify that when we finally get hold of him. But here’s the interesting thing, sir. The report says the desk drawer handles were wiped clean.

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