The Anagramist by David W Robinson

The Anagramist by David W Robinson

Author:David W Robinson [Robinson, David W]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: darkstroke books
Published: 2020-04-23T22:00:00+00:00


Chapter Nineteen

It would be one of the most painful and uncomfortable days Drake could ever remember.

Riding in the passenger seat of Becky’s compact Citroen, he felt every bump and pothole in the road, despite his partner’s best efforts to avoid them. Every twist and turn on Moor Heights Lane shot fresh spears through his tired, aching body, and each stab was magnified untold times in the area of the wound. By the time they got home, where a CSI team were busy at the front of the house, he was all but exhausted; the minimal effort required to get out of the hospital and into the car, had sapped what little energy he had left.

Once in the house, Becky followed him up the stairs (purely to ensure that it did not faint and fall back down) and saw him into bed, and in a matter of minutes, he had drifted into much-needed sleep.

It was almost two o’clock when he woke, and once again the wound made its presence felt.

Determined to ignore it, he washed and shaved, dressed as best he could, and made his way downstairs to find Becky in the kitchen, along with Chief Superintendent Lumsden, DCI Adamson, and Kirsty.

There was some fuss from them, asking after his well-being. He returned their platitudes with reassurance, Becky furnished him with a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee, and as he ate, Lumsden explained their presence.

“Primarily, Wes, we need a formal statement from you, and I felt it was better for us to come here than drag you to the station. Above and beyond that, Iris rang me at nine o’clock this morning, and brought me up to speed on your work with Samantha Vaughan. She authorised me to bring Charlie and Kirsty into our confidence, and also gave me the all clear to let Becky chauffeur you to Leeds tomorrow. Apparently, she’s already spoken to Sam and explained the situation, and Sam has agreed to rescheduling your appointment.”

Drake pushed the cereal bowl to one side, and with some difficulty broke two ibuprofen tablets from a bubble pack. He swallowed them with a large gulp of coffee, and in the light of these difficulties, he allowed Becky to put the sling in place.

“Sam is in a very delicate condition. She’s finely balanced between progress and regression, and I don’t want too many high-flying detectives swamping her. All the same, we need to look into the possibility of her husband employing the Anagramist to do his dirty work.”

The announcement, extreme as it was, produced a predictable round of complaints, the most vociferous from Adamson. Drake, struggling to maintain his grip on the discussion whilst combating his body’s protests, waited for it to die down.

“You’re detectives, I’m not. You know the score better than I do, and you’re the people who know not to leave any stone unturned. The initial question we have to ask is, how the hell did the Anagramist know about her? There are several possibilities, the most likely of which is that he followed me to Leeds.



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