[DCI Evan Warlow 09] Lines of Inquiry by Rhys Dylan

Author:Rhys Dylan [Rhys Dylan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B0C7CVK6NY
Publisher: Wyrmwood Books
Published: 2023-09-04T16:00:00+00:00

The narrow street where Stacey Campbell and Michael Dunbar had their home was now awash with blue lights from a couple of response vehicles and an ambulance. Warlow parked where he could, a good fifty yards away, and walked towards the blue lights, passing the odd zombie and one bloke with a hatchet through his head pretending that they were extras in The Walking Dead. The little kids had long gone. These were teenagers who saw the opportunity to frighten innocent passers-by under the guise of Halloween as an offer they couldn’t refuse.

They got short shrift with Warlow, whose glare of disapproval quickly made them decide this was not someone to wave their hands menacingly at. As he got nearer to the address, more people appeared on the street, enjoying the spectacle and the light show. This was better than any trick or treat. Better than what was on the telly, too, no doubt.

Gil was standing in front of the house, which had the door wide open, talking to a Uniform. A paramedic walked past carrying a bag just as Warlow arrived.

‘How is she?’ Warlow asked.

The paramedic returned a zipped lip stare that eased only when the DCI produced his warrant card. ‘Bruised, but nothing major. Bit shocked, but she doesn’t need the hospital, if that’s what you’re wondering.’

It had been.

‘There’s a neighbour in there with her,’ the paramedic added.

Warlow nodded and looked around. What he wanted to do was to get the Uniforms to shoo all these people back inside their houses. But they had every right to be standing here.

‘Get someone to take the names and addresses of the clowns in the fancy dress,’ he said to the female officer. ‘That should make the little buggers disappear. We can canvass the neighbours tomorrow.’ Warlow turned to Gil. ‘Where’s Hopper?’

‘Around the back, checking out the exit route.’

‘And where is Stacey?’

‘Kitchen, sir,’ said the Uniform.

Warlow walked into the house. A second paramedic stood back to let him pass. ‘Finished?’ Warlow asked.

‘Yeah. All yours.’

Warlow stood back to let the paramedic pass and then said to Gil, ‘Let’s shut the front door. It’s like a bloody goldfish bowl in here.’

Gil spoke to the Uniform and then followed Warlow into the house and shut the door behind him.

Stacey Campbell sat at the kitchen table. A modern matt white thing with wooden legs and chairs to match. Warlow was struck by how un-homely all the shiny surfaces and chrome fittings looked. More like a clinic than a nest. At the end of the table sat another woman. A little older, larger, cornrow hair with the tips stained blond and an expression of unbridled suspicion on her face with the arrival of the two officers.

Stacey glanced up but didn’t acknowledge Warlow. She looked battered, both in terms of the bruises on her lips and by the events of the evening.

‘Who are these two, Stace?’ asked the larger woman in the voice of a tobacco addict.

Stacey nodded. ‘Cops.’

‘I hope you’re not going to be here long. She’s been through enough.

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