Better the Devil You Know by James Whitworth

Author:James Whitworth [Whitworth, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2015-05-13T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Miller’s alarm clock went off at seven thirty, redundant as it almost always was these days. He had been awake for two hours.

He rolled over and silenced the insistent ring and thought about putting the radio on. Instead, he reached for his phone, placed it in its dock and let the sound of Ella Fitzgerald welcome him to the day.

Ella was only into the third song on her Duke Ellington Songbook when Miller’s mobile rang. Glancing at the screen he was surprised to see Chief Constable Davis’s name appear.

“Morning, sir.” Miller said.

The voice at the other end of the phone was tight with tension. “You better come in. Now.”

“What’s happened?” Miller asked, a sudden feeling of dread banishing Ella’s voice.

“Powell’s identified the body. You’re not going to believe this.”

*

Maria Riddle rolled over in bed, her long hair sweeping across her husband’s face. “Morning,” she said, her voice pregnant with suggestion. Riddle opened one eye and smiled.

“Morning to you, too,” he said propping himself up on one elbow. He stole a quick glance at the bedside clock. 07:43. Riddle smiled and kissed his wife. Then his mobile rang.

Maria glanced at the display. “It’s Frank,” she said with weary resignation. “I’ll make coffee.”

Ten minutes later DS Riddle was fully dressed and searching for his car keys. “Under yesterday’s Telegraph,” Maria said as she sipped a strong black coffee.

“Sorry,” Riddle said.

Maria flicked her hair from her eyes and Riddle thought for the thousandth time how incredibly lucky he was to have somehow persuaded this beautiful and bright woman to marry him.

“It’s important?” Maria said. It wasn’t really a question. She knew Miller had his faults, but he was never one to cry wolf.

“Very,” Riddle said. “Although he hasn’t said how.”

Maria kissed her husband fully on the lips. “Then you’d better go,” she said.

Riddle sighed. Sometimes he hated his job.

*

Whitby’s police station had not exactly embraced the festive season. A series of intermittent and wilted decorations had been forlornly placed around the public areas. Beyond these there was only a rather sad piece of what Riddle guessed might have once been gold tinsel.

“Good morning, DS Riddle.”

Riddle turned around to be faced with the approaching figure of Chief Constable Davis. He quickly tried to adjust his grimace into a smile, but ended up with the expression of someone suffering from a particular nasty bout of gout.

“This way,” Davis said, gesturing to his office. “DCI Miller and PC Newbold are already there.”

Riddle fell in behind Davies, wondering how Newbold always managed to be first in. It had been suggested by more than one colleague that she slept in the building, and Riddle had originally found her eagerness irritating, but these days it had somehow become endearing.

As Riddle entered Davis’s office, Newbold stood up to allow Riddle to sit down. This made him feel both awkward and apprehensive.

Miller smiled grimly. “Sorry to wake you,” he said. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

The man was uncanny, Riddle thought.

“Now we’re all here,” Davis began, as he perched on the edge of his desk.

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