The Lies They Told: (DI Karen Heath Crime Series Book 1) by Jay Nadal

Author:Jay Nadal [Nadal, Jay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-04-07T22:00:00+00:00

23

The thought of crawling under her desk and falling asleep appealed to her more than sifting through the case file. Dealing with Taylor’s murder was proving a challenge and adding Macholl’s murder to the mix only added to her problems.

Too little sleep, an empty stomach, and remnants of alcohol left her with a growling and burning stomach that distracted her from the task in hand. Part of her was preoccupied with the ambush eight months ago. The haunting memory lingered, never far from her thoughts and would often sidetrack her from important work. Shaking her head, and thumping her desk with a clenched fist, she jolted herself back into the present.

Forensics would wrap up their search of Macholl’s apartment soon. Even though ballistics wouldn’t have access to the bullet until after the post-mortem, Karen would work on the assumption that the results would reveal the same firearm used to kill Taylor. That they were associates, and killed within days of each other, made it more of a certainty in her mind.

McQueen tapped on her open door, and hovered in the doorway, waiting to be called in. Karen waved him in as she clicked through various emails, deciding which to keep and which to send to the bin. The majority were heading for the bin. Even if they were important, she knew people would chase her when they hadn’t received a reply. She was all for less clutter; she hated her desk being untidy and lots of unopened emails in queue. She liked a clean working space. It was a shame she couldn’t do that with her own mind.

“I’ve got an update for you, boss.” McQueen grabbed a seat, straightening his tie, even though it didn’t need straightening.

The action bought a slight smile to Karen’s face. It didn’t matter where McQueen was, or what he was doing, his appearance came first. He was the smartest, and snazziest dresser in MIT, and every time he walked into another station, officers would give him a second look. Pencil-thin ties, small collars, and neatly pressed white shirts were his trademark. Sometimes his trousers looked as if they’d been sprayed on, and Karen had often stared at his backside, admiring how good he looked.

“We had officers doing door-to-door enquiries. As we know, several residents heard what they thought was a loud pop and put it down to a car backfiring shortly after two a.m. However, we’ve also got one witness who saw someone leaving around one a.m. This resident was just going to sleep when they heard the electronic release on the front door to the block. She’s an old dear and likes to be nosey. Her admission, not mine. Anyway, she looked out and saw someone walking away from the front door and making their way towards the main road.”

“Description?” Karen asked, making notes on her pad.

“Female. Average height, dark hair, wearing a long coat, and high heels. The witness distinctly remembered the sound of heels clicking across the path.”

The timings didn’t work for Karen.

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