The Woman on Mulberry Lane (DI Morgan Yeoman Book 1) by Emmy Ellis

Author:Emmy Ellis [Ellis, Emmy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

Morgan had left Shaz at the station looking into CCTV with Nigel. Jane Blessing, sour as anything earlier that morning, had declared she’d poke into Olga’s background and find any family members. No next of kin had been discovered in Olga’s documents at her house to inform them of her death—her parents and husband were deceased, and it didn’t appear she had any other relations either. No neighbours in the lane knew if she had family. Val hadn’t been in when he’d nipped there, so he’d wait for her to answer his text about that.

He hadn’t set anyone tasks regarding Alice Baines. He’d deal with that, do the usual rooting around to make it seem like something was being done, but ultimately, he’d let it die a quiet death. He didn’t need the shit.

With all three of his team busy, he’d told them he was going out to question the neighbours again. He needed privacy.

Billy Price had sent a coded text.

Morgan sat in a pub on the outskirts. Drinker’s Rest cuddled the edge of Cobbs Moor, a damn creepy place at night, the expanse so big, the trees standing alone every so often, their naked branches a close resemblance to kinked spiders’ legs. The pub was too remote for the likes of those lazy arses on the estate, too far away for them to want to travel to it, even by bus. Too pricy an’ all.

He stared through the window nursing an orange juice, waiting for Billy to turn up. Someone walked a dog out there in the distance, the silhouettes of man and hound black against the blue-grey sky spotted with bulbous clouds threatening rain. Quite a hike, out on the moor, and not a jaunt Morgan would entertain no matter how much he loved Rochester.

His mind drifted.

This morning, seven o’clock, he’d left Lydia asleep, a note on the pillow. SOCO had buggered off around four a.m., Alice’s body removed by someone in Lisa’s team. There was a carpet to rip up and replace, but that could wait. He’d arrange it while Lydia was away. He’d have to bang it on a credit card.

He’d managed to grab a couple of hours in bed, the one in the spare room. Sharing with his wife wasn’t something he could bring himself to do, not after she’d murdered someone. Not after he’d crossed the line, the real line, into illegal territory. He was shielding a killer, albeit one forced to commit murder—if her story was true—and would go down for a stretch himself if ever he was caught.

Billy’s flatbed lorry trundled into the car park, whatever was in the back walloping the sides on a right turn. He parked up, scaffolding poking out, so he must be on the same job as he’d been before. The man got out and wandered over to the pub door, paint-splattered overalls needing a good wash, and pushed inside. He glanced around and nodded upon spotting Morgan. He ambled over.

Morgan had already bought him a

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