Read Online DS Jessica Daniel series: Locked In/Vigilante/The Woman in Black - Books 1-3 by Kerry Wilkinson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kerry Wilkinson
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They were going to hit the roof and, seeing as the journalist had phoned her the
day before, if Internal Investigations were involved, they would see his phone number on her records.
Jessica still had Garry’s details in her mobile’s previous callers list and, figuring she could be in enough trouble already, phoned him back as she left the pub to walk home. She
wasn’t sure whether to go straight in with the full barrage of swear words or to build up in a particularly obscene crescendo. Afterwards, she couldn’t quite recall the full details of
the one-sided conversation but definitely remembered promising to do something not at all pleasant with his lower intestines and quite possibly inventing a host of new curses.
She had arrived at the station earlier than usual on the Monday to be greeted by a hard copy of the paper sitting on the reception desk in front of that morning’s desk sergeant. The
headline was the same on the print version as it was online, except the article itself was even more terrible than she thought. Jessica saw that, in the absence of any photos of the victim, they
had used a picture of her. Worse still, it was a horrible passport-type photo the press office had taken to use on the force’s website.
Under a big banner headline about a murder, she was there grinning like an idiot. Just as she thought her morning couldn’t get much worse, Jessica saw Detective Chief Inspector William
Aylesbury bounding through the big double doors into reception.
Most people called William would have the good grace to let you call them ‘Will’ or ‘Bill’. A huge majority would even prefer it but not the DCI. She called him
‘Sir’ of course but, when he introduced himself to anyone, he would pronounce every last syllable of Will. I. Am. Ay. Les. Bury. He would roll the letter ‘r’ as if he were
royalty.
He was certainly one of those types who followed the family trade into the police force. His father and grandfather had been senior officers in the Met, while his son had recently joined Greater
Manchester Police’s uniformed ranks based at a different station. She had no doubt he would be superintendent in no time with the current one, DSI Dominic Davies, well-known to be retiring in
under twelve months.
He was in his early fifties with short grey hair but could have passed for someone ten years younger given the way he looked after himself. He was tall and imposing when he wanted to be and
almost always perfectly turned out with expensive-looking suits.
‘Been making friends with the press, have we?’ Aylesbury said, indicating the paper in Jessica’s hand that she hadn’t been quick enough to put down.
He beckoned her into a meeting along with Cole and the woman in charge of press relations. Jessica told them she had spoken to Garry Ashford on Saturday afternoon but only because he had called
her. She explained she had not given away any details and didn’t know how the information had appeared in that morning’s paper, although pointed out there were plenty of people who had
been at the crime scene.
She was pretty sure Cole believed her but Aylesbury was far too hard to read and the press officer definitely didn’t buy it. The woman stared daggers throughout the meeting but, given she
was outranked by everyone present, that was about as much dissatisfaction as she could get away with. Jessica’s opinion of the DCI improved a tiny amount when he dismissed the press officer
and told her and Cole he would inform Internal Investigations there was no need to be involved.
They had the powers to start an inquiry regardless of what the chief inspector thought but seeing as nothing had been leaked that was likely to compromise the inquiry – and that he was
backing her for now – it seemed probable they would listen to his advice.
That meeting led straight into a second one with the three of them, which was how her morning would have started if it wasn’t for the
day before, if Internal Investigations were involved, they would see his phone number on her records.
Jessica still had Garry’s details in her mobile’s previous callers list and, figuring she could be in enough trouble already, phoned him back as she left the pub to walk home. She
wasn’t sure whether to go straight in with the full barrage of swear words or to build up in a particularly obscene crescendo. Afterwards, she couldn’t quite recall the full details of
the one-sided conversation but definitely remembered promising to do something not at all pleasant with his lower intestines and quite possibly inventing a host of new curses.
She had arrived at the station earlier than usual on the Monday to be greeted by a hard copy of the paper sitting on the reception desk in front of that morning’s desk sergeant. The
headline was the same on the print version as it was online, except the article itself was even more terrible than she thought. Jessica saw that, in the absence of any photos of the victim, they
had used a picture of her. Worse still, it was a horrible passport-type photo the press office had taken to use on the force’s website.
Under a big banner headline about a murder, she was there grinning like an idiot. Just as she thought her morning couldn’t get much worse, Jessica saw Detective Chief Inspector William
Aylesbury bounding through the big double doors into reception.
Most people called William would have the good grace to let you call them ‘Will’ or ‘Bill’. A huge majority would even prefer it but not the DCI. She called him
‘Sir’ of course but, when he introduced himself to anyone, he would pronounce every last syllable of Will. I. Am. Ay. Les. Bury. He would roll the letter ‘r’ as if he were
royalty.
He was certainly one of those types who followed the family trade into the police force. His father and grandfather had been senior officers in the Met, while his son had recently joined Greater
Manchester Police’s uniformed ranks based at a different station. She had no doubt he would be superintendent in no time with the current one, DSI Dominic Davies, well-known to be retiring in
under twelve months.
He was in his early fifties with short grey hair but could have passed for someone ten years younger given the way he looked after himself. He was tall and imposing when he wanted to be and
almost always perfectly turned out with expensive-looking suits.
‘Been making friends with the press, have we?’ Aylesbury said, indicating the paper in Jessica’s hand that she hadn’t been quick enough to put down.
He beckoned her into a meeting along with Cole and the woman in charge of press relations. Jessica told them she had spoken to Garry Ashford on Saturday afternoon but only because he had called
her. She explained she had not given away any details and didn’t know how the information had appeared in that morning’s paper, although pointed out there were plenty of people who had
been at the crime scene.
She was pretty sure Cole believed her but Aylesbury was far too hard to read and the press officer definitely didn’t buy it. The woman stared daggers throughout the meeting but, given she
was outranked by everyone present, that was about as much dissatisfaction as she could get away with. Jessica’s opinion of the DCI improved a tiny amount when he dismissed the press officer
and told her and Cole he would inform Internal Investigations there was no need to be involved.
They had the powers to start an inquiry regardless of what the chief inspector thought but seeing as nothing had been leaked that was likely to compromise the inquiry – and that he was
backing her for now – it seemed probable they would listen to his advice.
That meeting led straight into a second one with the three of them, which was how her morning would have started if it wasn’t for the
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