Smith by Stewart Giles

Author:Stewart Giles [Giles, Stewart]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense, Crime, Murder, Crime Fiction, Thrillers
Amazon: B00PR08S34
Published: 2014-11-15T23:00:00+00:00

THIRTY EIGHT

INTRUDER

Sunday 3 January 2009

“Did he give you any trouble?” Bridge asked as Smith, Whitton and Mick Hogg emerged through the Arrivals door at Manchester Airport.

“Quiet as a lamb,” Whitton said, “he seems more afraid of Roxy Jones than anything else.”

“I don’t blame him,” Bridge said, “she is quite vicious. I believe you had a nice dip in the sea whiled you were away?”

“Very funny,” Whitton said, “word travels fast. I’m sitting in the front on the way back to York; I’ve been as close as I ever want to get to this thug.”

Smith opened the back door of Bridge’s car, pushed Hogg inside and sat next to him. He still had the handcuffs attached.”

“Sorry about the break in at your place,” Bridge said as they left the airport car park.

“Thanks Bridge,” Smith sighed, “I need to get there as soon as we get back. I believe Thompson looked after the place while I was away? I must thank him for the favour.”

Bridge laughed.

“His wife kicked him out sir,” he said, “You actually did him a favour.”

“Why did she kick him out?”

“They’d had a big fight. She wanted him to leave the force. She’d been nagging him for ages it seems. He was making himself comfortable in one of the empty cells when the call came through about your place. You did him a favour, he jumped at the chance.”

“I must thank him anyway,” Smith insisted, “poor bastard.”

“It looks as if Martin Willow is still going to go down for killing his wife sir,” Bridge said.

The sign on the road indicated that York was fifty miles away.

“What about Roxy Jones?” Smith asked.

“We can only tie her to the murders of Lauren Cowley and Susan Jenkins. It seems the attacks on the Willows were mere coincidence.”

“There’s no such thing as coincidence,” Smith said, “You should know that by now.”

“I thought so too sir,” Bridge admitted, “but there is nothing to suggest that Roxy Jones had anything to do with it.”

“Has she confessed to the other murders?” Smith asked.

“Not yet sir, but the DI has an idea. She doesn’t know that we have him.”

Bridge pointed to Mick Hogg who was silent in the back.

“We’re going to let them accidentally bump into each other at the station.”

Hogg’s face turned ashen.

“Classic Police technique,” Whitton said.

“Straight out of the movies,” Smith added, “let them both know the other is being questioned and see which one rats out the other first.”

“But that’s not fair,” Hogg interrupted, “Roxy said she’d kill me if I didn’t keep my mouth shut.”

Smith winked at Whitton.

“Shut up you,” he said to Hogg, “you’re opinion ceased to count when you nearly drowned my colleague. Bridge, would you mind dropping me off at my house first, I’ll get to the station as soon as I can. I wouldn’t want to miss this for the world.”

Smith’s house was in a bit of a state. There was fingerprint powder everywhere; empty beer cans covered the floor and his entire CD collection was spread across the living room floor.

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