Game of Bones by Geraldine Evans

Author:Geraldine Evans
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: series detective fiction, series detective novels, british detective series., british detective mysteries, british detectives, detective fiction, detective series, detective novels, british crime series, urban mystery, fun mystery, mystery fiction, funny mysteries in series, funny mysteries, mystery novels, mystery novel, cozy mysteries, humorous mystery, crime fiction, crime novels, crime series, police procedural series, police procedurals, british police procedurals, mysteries, mystery
Publisher: Geraldine Evans
Published: 2018-02-05T00:00:00+00:00

RAFFERTY WORKED ON Babbington’s case papers for the CPS that afternoon. He refused to ask Llewellyn, which was his usual practise, given his sergeant’s feelings about the case, so it was taking longer than Llewellyn’s beautifully streamlined effort.

Rafferty gritted his teeth, acknowledging that form-filling wasn’t his strong point. But he was determined to dot his ‘i’s and cross his ‘t’s, so that he wouldn’t have the CPS throw his work back at him and tell him to do it again. But around four o’clock, he ran out of steam, and decided to take a break. Besides, he needed to make some progress on their other case before the superintendent returned from his hols. Already a week of Bradley’s holiday had passed, so time was not on his side.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he stood up, and walked over to grab his jacket.

Llewellyn, sensing the movement, looked round. ‘Finished the Babbington paperwork for the CPS already?’

Rafferty’s eyes narrowed, as he awaited some snide comment. His voice sounded defensive, even to him, as he said, ‘More or less.’

‘More? Or less? Which is it?’

‘All you need to worry about is that it’s under control.’

Llewellyn didn’t even raise his eyebrows. With a look of studied indifference, he said, ‘Would you like me to glance through it?’

Conscious that his hurried ‘No’, was all too revealing, Rafferty’s thrust his arms roughly into his jacket, and heard the lining split. ‘It’s under control, I said. I’ll finish it tomorrow.’ He put the Babbington case papers in his desk drawer, slammed it shut, turned the key, and put it in in his breast pocket. ‘Can’t be too careful. There’s a lot of nosy buggers around here.’

If Llewellyn took Rafferty’s comment personally, he gave no sign. But his voice was clipped when he said, ‘You know the CPS have telephoned for it twice already?’

‘They’ll get it. They always want everything yesterday. We’re forever having to do rush jobs, and then they take months to prepare the cases for court. Let ‘em wait.’

This was an old niggle, made worse by the fact that when Llewellyn did the paperwork, it was always immaculate, on time, and never arrived back on the top of the in-tray, like a boomerang. ‘You coming?’

‘Where to?’

‘Carlton’s, of course. We can’t just ignore our other work to please the CPS. Bradley will think we’re slacking, when he comes back bronzed and beautiful from his expensive holiday.’

Silently, Llewellyn got into his own jacket; a thing of exquisite cut. He didn’t have ripped linings, and pockets stuffed with all sorts.

The thought made a pall of gloom settle over Rafferty, and he stumped down the stairs to the car park with a heavy tread.

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