Merry Murders Everyone by David W Robinson

Author:David W Robinson [Robinson, David W]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: darkstroke / crooked cat books
Published: 2019-12-23T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

After Martin left, they moved to Oughton’s first floor office, overlooking Gale Street and the rear entrance to Galleries shopping mall. There was a brief discussion between Joe, Gemma and Oughton, which took place over a cup of bland, police canteen tea.

The chief superintendent was not entirely despondent, but neither was he particularly upbeat. “If we run a full check on Naylor, it’ll take days, maybe even weeks. If he really is Nellis or Newman, he could have disappeared before we get the results.”

“In the meantime, Sheila’s life could still be in danger.” Joe’s glum face brightened suddenly. “Oh, I knew I had something to tell you.”

They’ve fixed their attention on him, and he related the tale George Robson had told him over lunch.

Oughton was particularly interested. “George knows his stuff. Crikey, he’s been working in parks and gardens for the last forty odd years. Are holly berries really poisonous?”

“Saponin, sir,” Gemma said. “Not likely to be fatal, but it certainly could upset your gastric system.”

“That’s what George said,” Joe confirmed, “and if you think about it, it’s exactly what’s been wrong with Sheila.”

“We’re walking on a tightrope,” Oughton declared. “If we go barging into Sheila’s place, looking for evidence, and we find nothing, she’ll tear us to pieces. She’ll rip us to shreds even if we do find something. Have you any ideas, Joe?”

Although he did not feel any humour, Joe grinned. “Yes, but you don’t wanna know about it. I’m not sure it’s legal.”

Both police officers laughed, Gemma gave him a mild warning to watch his step, and a few minutes later, the debate petered out, and Joe left the station, to fight his way back to The Lazy Luncheonette.

“At least I can enjoy a decent cuppa here,” he said to Brenda while he detailed the interview to her.

With the time coming up to 3 o’clock, and the day’s trade beginning to fade, he and Lee climbed into his car for yet another battle across Sanford – with a pause to fill the tank this time – and Parsloe’s yard.

“Whatever you do, don’t get stupid, Lee. I need you there just to counter the threat of this Kimberry character. I’ll deal with Parsloe, and you don’t have to get physical unless Kimberry tries his luck.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle Joe. If he starts, I’ll slap him about a bit. When I’m done with him, this Kimberley won’t know his backside from his shoulder blade.”

Joe tutted. “You mean his backside from his elbow.”

“I knew it were one of them joints.”

They drove past a large, out-of-town supermarket, with Santa Claus standing at the entrance, ringing his bell and rattling his charity tin. The storefront was decorated with Christmas trees and flashing lights, and the scene generated an almost childlike enthusiasm in Lee.

“Hey, you are coming to ours on Christmas Day, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be there, yes. I don’t know when or how long I’ll be staying. Someone has to look out for Sheila, and it’s probably down to me and Brenda because I don’t trust Martin.

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