The Boy in the Box by E.J. Wood

Author:E.J. Wood [Wood, E.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-17T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

Detective Inspector

Ian Riley

DI Ian Riley had been packing the remainder of his belongings in preparation for his return to London. His visit to Sussex had been brief and uneventful, and once again, his attempt to get Burke into bed had failed. Concerning himself with another case was the least of his worries right now, because for him, Operation Lawmaker – an ongoing case where women turned up dead in thickets - was priority. When Detective Chief Superintendent Floyd advised him to return to London, he did not hesitate. Riley knew it was pointless to argue even if the scenery down south had offered him a break, because Floyd knew about his drinking problem. For Riley, the drink dulled the pain; he had lost his wife to it or so she had claimed at the time when she filed for divorce.

The large living room of his rental home had long dark oak floorboards, a galleried staircase, Baltic Pine panelling and rippled glass windows. He jumped when he heard a knock at the door, and he skulked tentatively towards it.

‘Yes, who is it?’ he shouted, feeling unnerved.

‘It’s Tenley,’ the soft voice answered from the other side.

There was enough of a pause to cause Burke to wonder if she would be left outside but eventually the door opened.

‘Floyd gave me your address, told me you were renting somewhere short-term whilst down here in Sussex,’ she said.

Riley scratched the back of his head and eyed her backside as she walked inside.

‘Well, if it’s not our very own Officer Dibble. Miss me already?’ he joked.

‘I don’t want us parting with bad feelings,’ she said ignoring his sarcasm.

‘You mean you might need a favour again?’ he grunted.

‘Perhaps,’ she shrugged.

Riley’s eyes bored into Burke as he poured himself a whisky. She watched as the golden liquid cascaded into the short glass. It reminded her of her father as he would smile whilst pouring himself one every evening whilst wafting the aroma under his nose.

‘You want one?’

‘No, thank you.’ Burke refused. The smell was tarry and heavy, and caused her nose to crinkle at the memory.

Burke knew Riley only worked one way, and that was a tit for tat system. It was her turn to return his favour she had previously requested, and she had run out of ideas of how she could repay him, but she had nowhere and no one else to turn to. Riley was an arrogant dickhead but a dickhead she knew well. In the words of the body that investigated bent coppers, “There was nothing about him, pretty much your average police officer”. However, Riley’s reputation preceded him. Burke had heard Riley had been involved in a kidnapping and beaten a man up with a baseball bat, and narrowly escaped being the victim of a stitch-up. He had joined the Met in 1955 after a couple of years serving in the military police, but soon found out that, although his record was “squeaky clean”, the temptation to remain dirt-free was too much. “London was full of shit,” he once claimed, and he was prepared “to get dirty”.

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