Saxon by Stuart Davies

Author:Stuart Davies [Davies, Stuart]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-78099-472-7
Publisher: John Hunt Publishing
Published: 2014-08-28T16:00:00+00:00

Tuesday, May 21, Saxon’s Apartment 7.00AM

It felt as if it were only minutes later when the alarm clock was screaming at him to get up. He knocked back two cups of strong coffee as he towelled himself dry from the shower and gulped down toast with marmalade – no plate, as he couldn’t find a clean one. Must wash up tonight, and that’s a promise.

When he left his apartment, precisely fifteen minutes after he’d got out of bed, he didn’t notice the card that had been pushed under his door. As he ran down the stairs, two steps at a time, he did notice Francesca, who was on her way up. But as she spoke, he cut her off before she’d managed more than ‘Hi,’ calling back up to her, ‘Morning, Fran.’ He waved. ‘Got to rush.’

Francesca stood motionless and watched him disappear down the stairs. She heard the front door slam seconds later. She got to her door and checked to see if he’d pushed a note under it earlier. No, there was nothing there. So how am I supposed to know if you’re going to make it tonight or not?

Men were very difficult sometimes.

Parker sat in his corner of their temporary office, his eyes glued to the computer screen, barely responding when Saxon strode in.

‘Morning, sir,’ he mumbled, not looking up from the mesmerising information in front of him.

Saxon was feeling quite good, in spite of less-than-adequate sleep. ‘We have Mr Jenner later today, don’t we?’ he asked.

‘Yes, boss. Keith Jenner’s in for questions this afternoon at two o’clock.’

‘Ah, yes, should be interesting. Can’t wait.’ Saxon was aware of something he’d missed back at home. Fran’s face and the expression on it. He had seen it for a second or two but it had registered. Now it occurred to him that she had been about to speak to him, and she’d looked surprised when he rushed past her. Maybe she’d wanted to say more than just ‘Good morning.’

A criticism that Emma had made, to the effect that he often ignored her – too often, as it turned out – resurfaced from wherever he had temporarily filed it in his brain.

He found Fran’s business card in his index and dialled her number. She barely had time to say her name before he interrupted her.

‘Fran, hello, it’s Paul. Sorry I was in a screaming rush this morning.’

She started to speak but he barely paused for breath. ‘Didn’t have time to stop. Have I missed something important?’

‘The card, did you see the card on your doormat?’ she said, with the usual laugh in her voice.

‘Uhm, no…sorry, you’d better tell me what it’s about.’

‘Well, maybe if you’re so busy, you probably haven’t the time to have dinner with me tonight,’ she teased.

It was so unexpected that Saxon was at a loss for words. ‘Well, yes, that would be great, Fran,’ he stammered. ‘But don’t expect too much of my tantalising personality, I haven’t had a lot of sleep lately.’ He paused. ‘One of our lads was murdered last night, so it’s frantic here.

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