The Blue Code by Keith Nixon

Author:Keith Nixon [Nixon, Keith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-04T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty One

Pennance headed downstairs at 6.30am and found the door to the dining room open. Inside were four tables, all set for breakfast. One table was already occupied by a pair of builders in overalls, heads buried in red-top tabloid newspapers, plates marked with yellow and red smears pushed away from them.

Melody emerged from the adjacent kitchen, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “Morning, Jonah. What can I get you? I do a decent Full English.”

Pennance didn’t fancy a protein booster this early. “Porridge is fine, thanks. And some toast and coffee.”

“Coming right up.”

“Great tip yesterday,” said one of the builders.

“Sorry?” Melody flickered a glance at Pennance.

“The 3.10 at Kempton came in by a nose at 10-1.”

“Oh, good.” Melody disappeared into the kitchen and the builders left.

Pennance picked up one of the newspapers they’d discarded. Elliott’s murder was front page news – a long-range photo of the peppered Merc centre stage. The headline of large, bold letters read, ‘In Cold Blood’. Pennance skimmed the story, which was light on actual information while heavy on speculation. At the bottom, in bold text, Pennance was directed to an accompanying article inside.

As Pennance flipped through the pages, Melody brought out his food. “Can I get you anything else?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Pennance began to eat.

Melody cleared the builders’ plates as Pennance read. There was a photo of Crosse, seemingly lifted from the TV interview with him outside the restaurant, and the by-line, ‘Curry Cop Out’.

‘Detective Chief Inspector Nick Crosse of Cambridgeshire police preferred to be dining with colleagues last night, rather than trying to track down a vicious killer after the murder of a man in broad daylight outside a supermarket in the normally peaceful town of Huntingdon, a crime which has residents living in fear, too scared to leave their houses.

‘This reporter understands DCI Crosse and two colleagues were dining on phaals, laughing and joking, while the very people they were supposed to be protecting quivered behind their doors. DCI Crosse briefly broke away from his feast to remonstrate with a BBC reporter about his conduct.

‘Mary, a local resident I spoke to, told me, “The police round here are all rubbish. They let everyone get away with everything. There’s kids making noise, drugs, even sniffing laughing gas and leaving their cannisters everywhere. They should all be got rid of.” This reporter wasn’t sure if Mary meant the kids or the cops…’

A car horn blew on the street outside, a single, long toot.

“That’ll be my niece.” Melody gritted her teeth. “I tell her every bloody time to knock on the door rather than make that racket. She does it on purpose.” If it was Jansen then she was early, as Melody had predicted. Melody shook her head as Jansen tooted again. “Maybe you could mention it to her?”

“I doubt she’d listen to me.” Pennance lifted his jacket from off the back of the seat. “Thanks for breakfast.” He raised the newspaper. “Can I take this?”

“Of course, but before you go...” Melody briefly entered the kitchen before emerging with a thick square parcel of tin foil which she held out for Pennance.

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