Perfect Record by Kerry J Donovan

Author:Kerry J Donovan [Donovan, Kerry J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-05-08T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Tuesday 5th July – Early afternoon

Holton, Birmingham

By the time Jones and Alex left Pope in the interview room guarded by the two constables, the little murderer had returned to his nail-biting, nibbling worst. In the corridor, Jones ran a hand through his hair. “Nicely done, Alex. Don’t know how you could hold his hands like that without vomiting.”

“Wasn’t easy, boss. I wanted to tear him apart for what he did to Mr and Mrs Al Karem, but that’s not what we do in England, ja?”

“No, Alex. Not anymore.”

She took out another wet wipe. “Tonight, I’ll need a long, hot shower, but first I need to go and wash my hands properly.”

“Don’t blame you,” Jones said and gave her a rueful smile. “Don’t blame you one little bit.”

“DCI Jones?”

A constable approached from the direction of the main reception area. He looked young enough still to be at school, but then again, so did most of the people Jones worked with these days. Well, maybe some of them might make undergraduates. He suddenly felt every one of his fifty-odd years.

“Yes, Constable …?”

“Porterhouse, sir. A call came in for you at reception.”

“From whom?”

“DC Washington, sir. He’s asking you to contact him on his mobile. Said it was urgent, sir.”

“Is it now? Why didn’t he call me himself?”

Porterhouse opened his mouth, but no words emerged.

“Come on lad, spit it out.”

“Sorry sir, but he said your mobile went through to voicemail. He thinks you may have switched off your phone when in the interview room.”

“You mean he said I might have forgotten to charge the battery again?”

“No, sir. That’s what Inspector Wilkie said … sorry sir, I mean ….” Deep red splodges blossomed on the constable’s acne-marked cheeks.

Jones took pity on the youngster. The lad would soon toughen up after a few months on the beat. “I know what you mean, son. Okay, message delivered. Thank you.”

Porterhouse made a swift about-turn and hurried back to the security of the reception desk where Inspector Wilkie would no doubt be laughing into his coffee mug at the lad’s discomfort.

Alex smiled. “The poor boy was terrified of you, boss. Someone’s been filling his ears with tales of your ferocity. Would you like to borrow my phone?”

“Yes please.”

Jones reached for her offered mobile. His phone’s battery had, indeed, died the previous evening and he’d forgotten to hook it up to the home charger again. It currently rested on a desk in the office—on charge.

Alex had opened hers to Ryan Washington’s number in the contacts list. All Jones had to do was press the call button, which he managed with the silky ease of a consummate professional. It didn’t take long for the detective constable to answer.

“What do you have for me, Ryan?”

“Hi, boss. Sorry to disturb and thanks for getting back to me so fast. We’ve had a jewellers shop turned over.” He had to shout over the background noise of heavy traffic. “It’s pretty bad, boss. Two victims in intensive care. One’s really in a bad way. We could do with your help.

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