Murder in Containment by Cleeland Anne

Author:Cleeland, Anne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-10-05T00:00:00+00:00

26

Doyle wound her scarf around the collar of her coat as she walked through the lobby, thinking about the coming interview with Mrs. Moran. Ex-wives, along with ex-girlfriends, were a detective’s best friends, but a widow—one would think—would be very defensive about her late husband’s reputation. Perhaps a peek into their bank records wouldn’t be out of line; she’d see if Acton had already done so.

The desk sergeant called out a greeting, and she smiled in response, as she came to the lobby doors; the man had been a big fan ever since the bridge-jumping incident, and she was reminded of the dead SOCO, who thought she was going to be a hero, like Doyle. She must have caught wind of the Wexton Prison corruption ring, somehow, and was working to expose it—hence she was killed, to put a stop to her investigation. And since the SOCO had written Mrs. Moran’s mobile number on her note pad as one of her last earthly actions, it placed a different light on the forthcoming interview—the SOCO may have been trying to contact the widow to discover what she knew about her husband’s activities, or the widow may even have been involved in the SOCO’s murder; best to keep an open mind. Doyle wondered how she’d manage to raise the subject of the murdered SOCO in the context of the vigilante murders, but decided—as she always did—that things seemed to work best when she didn’t have any particular plan. She was an intuitive creature, and plans—like thinking—were overrated.

She’d dutifully rung up the driving service, but upon emerging onto the front pavement, she was treated to the welcome sight of Acton in the Range Rover, waiting for her at the curb.

Smiling with delight, she slid into the car, and wondered what had prompted this unlooked-for visitation. “What a nice surprise, Michael.”

“Do you mind if I come along?”

“Do I have the lead?” she teased, as he pulled away from the curb. Technically, vehicles were not allowed to wait in front of the building, but the PC on duty had managed to hover at the far end of the perimeter, so as not to officially notice that a DCI was breaking the rules.

“You do, Detective Sergeant.” He gave her his half-smile, but she was not fooled, and wondered what had prompted this sudden desire to join her. Perhaps Savoie had told him that she’d called him, although this seemed unlikely; Savoie was not what one would call a gabbler.

But she was soon to find out Acton’s reason, as he glanced at her, and lifted a shoulder in an apologetic gesture. “I believe Trenton has been twigged.”

She smiled to show there were no hard feelings. “He wouldn’t have been, Michael, but you were a little over-concerned about Williams, and so I put two and two together.”

Acton’s brows drew together. “Williams should not browbeat you.”

“Well, you won’t browbeat me,” she pointed out fairly. “He fills in whenever it is necessary that I be browbeaten.”

He reached to put a conciliatory hand on her leg “I am sorry I didn’t tell you about Trenton.

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