Murder On The Knees by William Stafford

Author:William Stafford
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: crime, thriller, detective, humour, spoof, police, murder, mystery, whodunit, Dudley, Black Country, West Midlands, amateur dramatics, amdram, Brough, Miller, Serious Crimes division
ISBN: 9781783331451
Publisher: Andrews UK Limited 2013
Published: 2013-07-22T00:00:00+00:00

11

Miller had a rotten headache the following morning. She hadn’t intended to stay the night and so had none of her things with her. When Pattimore got up to shower before his early shift, he made her a cup of coffee and offered her a lift back to her place.

“I’ll tell David to make his own way in to Serious,” he assured her. “It’s not right, the way he relies on you to get him from place to place.”

“I do feel like a taxi driver sometimes,” Miller admitted, nursing the hot coffee.

“Then you should go out and get one!” Pattimore laughed. It took a while for Miller to understand his joke. It was too early in the morning for that kind of talk.

When Miller arrived at Wheeler’s briefing, feeling a little brighter but not letting a bottle of water out of her sight, she saw that Brough hadn’t turned up and felt a little guilty. Perhaps she should nip out and fetch him - was there enough time?

Wheeler called the team to attention, decrying their lack of progress in this case.

“And don’t you go giving me fairy stories,” she looked pointedly at Stevens and Henry. “I like my facts like I like my men: cold and hard. Now, go on. Get out there and find out what in blue fuckery is going on in this town. Go on;” she gave the characteristic jerk of the thumb towards the exit, “fuck off.”

***

Miller’s reactions were a little slow and so she failed to avoid Stevens. He loped along the corridor on his long legs and caught up with her with no difficulty.

“Morning, Millie,” he grinned.

“Die, wanker,” Miller grunted.

“Dear oh dear, somebody’s in a mood this morning. What’s the matter, Mill? Missing your boyfriend?”

Miller kept her face averted from the wanker Stevens. She didn’t want him to see the tears that were brimming in her eyes.

“Piss off,” she said.

“You should have said yes. He wouldn’t have got himself transferred if you’d said you’d marry him.”

Miller stopped walking. A penny had dropped through the fog of her hangover.

“You miss him!” she gasped. “You’re lonely!”

Stevens bristled. He swallowed hard.

“Don’t be fucking saft,” he muttered; his voice was thick with embarrassment.

Miller almost pitied the lanky git.

“Have you heard from him?” she asked.

“Might have,” he sniffed defiantly. “Well, no... Have you?”

Miller shook her head.

“Come on,” she said. “I need more coffee and then you can help me find the elusive inspector Brough.”

They headed to the canteen in silence.

***

Brough had taken the bus to the arts centre - having cleared his absence from briefing with Wheeler first. “Glad to see you’m thinking,” she’d said - even at arm’s length on speakerphone her voice had been loud and grating - “Just don’t make a fucking habit of it.”

The main hall was given over to a zumba class. Brough lurked in the foyer until he could accost someone who looked like they were employed to be there. Eventually, a young woman in leotards and leggings appeared, carrying a bulky bag. Brough signalled to her to remove her earphones.

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