Late Checkout (DCI Kenny Murrain Book 1) by Alex Walters

Author:Alex Walters [Walters, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-06-09T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

'I assume you've not joined us expecting a quiet life?'

'I don't remember that line in the job description. Mind you, two murder scenes in two days is an impressive strike rate by any standards.'

'You can say that again,' Milton said. They were in the entrance to the Wentworth Moor Hotel and Spa, looking out at the haze of lights scattered across the Cheshire plain. The rain was pounding down and a fine mist was settling across the moorland. Lost in a cloud, Milton's mother used to say, and that was how it felt.

Murrain was inside, negotiating access to the crime scene with Ferbrache, whose team were finishing up. After catching a glimpse of the room and its contents, Milton had needed a blast of clean damp air and had retreated out to the entrance, where a couple of his colleagues were taking the opportunity for a quick cigarette before things got properly started. He'd met Marie Donovan in the lobby, coming in the other direction.

'Didn't expect to see you here tonight,' he said. 'Thought you weren't joining us till tomorrow.'

'I got the summons from DCI Murrain, didn't I? He thought I might want to be in on it. That I might be interested to see what was going on.'

'Interested, eh?' Milton nodded. He knew the way Murrain's mind worked. Though 'mind' probably wasn't the right word. He'd have wanted Donovan here to see what response that provoked in him. The same as at the Stockport hotel, or different? Some connection here, or none? Something he should follow up, or not?

'He was lucky I was available,' she said, half-serious. 'I'd almost embarked on a serious date with Mr Merlot.'

'Good job we caught you, then.'

'Probably. My housemate was out tonight, though, so it was always going to be an abstemious evening.'

'If you say so.' He was on the verge of asking her about the housemate and her domestic circumstances but couldn't think of a discreet way of probing further. A moment too late, it occurred to him to wonder why he was interested.

'Anyway, I'm here now, sober and alert. Well, sober, anyway.' She had wandered away from the main doors, still sheltered by the glass awning that dominated the front of the hotel. The rain was teeming down, sweeping across the car-park in waves as the wind buffeted over the moors. The entrance was surrounded by an untidy cluster of crime-scene vehicles, pulsing blue lights smeared by the rainstorm. 'What is it about Murrain, anyway?'

'How'd you mean?' As if he didn't know.

'This 'intuition' stuff. Feelings.'

'All cops work on intuition. We all work from the gut.'

She stepped back into the light. 'Not like Murrain.'

'You've spoken to people about him.' It wasn't a question, and it sounded almost accusatory.

'Not really,' she said. 'I asked around a bit when the possibility of this job came up. You'd expect me to do that.'

'And what did people say?'

'Positive stuff, mostly. Well-regarded. Good track record. A lot of integrity. Decent guy. Hands-on copper rather than a pen-pusher.'

'But?'

'But?'

'You sound as if you're leading up to a but.

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