Read Online Faraday 01 The Gigabyte Detective by Michael Hillier - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Hillier
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Stafford smiled a little grimly to himself as he drove home. He had to admit that this new woman was trying to start off on the right foot. He wondered how she would cope with Sergeant Mallinson, who was distinctly less well-intentioned towards women policemen than he was.
- 3. Tuesday -
“So I said to this bird, if you don’t get your bloody ass out of this bed you’re going to be a murder suspect.”
Greg collapsed with laughter at his own joke but the rest of the office was silent.
From the door Stafford Paulson said, “I missed the start of that one.”
Sergeant Mallinson pulled himself upright. “Sorry, guv. I didn’t hear you coming.”
“Too busy researching the string of deaths over the last five years, I suppose.”
Mallinson was silenced by the perceived injustice of the remark. But he said nothing. The tone of Paulson’s comment didn’t suggest discussion.
“Well, now’s the time to introduce you to your new boss.” Stafford stepped to one side and ushered in the tall woman. “This is DCI Faraday.”
There was an utter silence that lasted for at least half a minute.
“Well, Charlotte, this is the Torbay team. DS Mallinson’s the joker.” Paulson regarded him with a flicker of distaste. “Greg’s the one who did the report on Mariella Prince.”
“Hello.” Said Charlotte. “I’ll want to have a look at that.”
“Stafford’s got it on his desk,” he said shortly.
She wasn’t impressed with the man. She noted the way his eyes wandered away from hers and slid down to inspect her breasts. She also took note of the overweight body which spoke of too little exercise, the prematurely thinning ginger hair, the smirk of ignorant superiority when he looked at her. She guessed he was a male chauvinist - the kind who groped women PC’s in dark corners when he had half a chance. It was likely he would strongly resent her presence and her rank. Mallinson had only reached sergeant in his mid thirties and was unlikely to rise any further. Charlotte decided she was going to have to keep an eye on Gregory Mallinson.
Paulson continued the introductions. “DC John Prendergast. He’s been with us less than a year. He’s the baby of the outfit.”
This one seemed to be a bright young chap as he came forward to shake her hand. He was tall and skinny, in his early twenties, with mop of tousled brown hair. He looked enthusiastic. How long would it be, she wondered, before he started looking for promotion away from this comfortable backwater?
“And DC Roberta Howell - likes to be known as Bobbie,” concluded the inspector.
Charlotte was struck by startling, light blue eyes in an otherwise plain face. She had a slim body made shapeless by the stiff trouser suit she was wearing. At least she would probably be safe from the wandering hands of Sergeant Mallinson.
Then, with a shock, she realised that she and Bobbie Howell were probably of a similar age. It showed what a huge difference a good degree and the opportunities offered by being in the Met could make.
“DCI Faraday,” said Paulson generally to the office, “has been sent to solve the Cynthia Adams case. She will be concentrating on that case only. Head office has decided that case has absolute priority. You will therefore give her every assistance she may ask for.” He nodded to Charlotte. “She has promised me that she will only take you away from your other duties when she considers it is essential. Otherwise you will continue to work to my instructions as before. Is that clear to everybody?”
“What about the Carter and Smythe cases?” asked Mallinson. “They’re both suspicious deaths. Do they still have priority?”
“After Adams, yes.” Paulson appeared impatient about discussing it. “But Adams is to have top priority over the next three months.”
Mallinson persisted sullenly, “So we’re likely to be taken off other cases at a moment’s notice, no matter how important our enquiries are at the
Stafford smiled a little grimly to himself as he drove home. He had to admit that this new woman was trying to start off on the right foot. He wondered how she would cope with Sergeant Mallinson, who was distinctly less well-intentioned towards women policemen than he was.
- 3. Tuesday -
“So I said to this bird, if you don’t get your bloody ass out of this bed you’re going to be a murder suspect.”
Greg collapsed with laughter at his own joke but the rest of the office was silent.
From the door Stafford Paulson said, “I missed the start of that one.”
Sergeant Mallinson pulled himself upright. “Sorry, guv. I didn’t hear you coming.”
“Too busy researching the string of deaths over the last five years, I suppose.”
Mallinson was silenced by the perceived injustice of the remark. But he said nothing. The tone of Paulson’s comment didn’t suggest discussion.
“Well, now’s the time to introduce you to your new boss.” Stafford stepped to one side and ushered in the tall woman. “This is DCI Faraday.”
There was an utter silence that lasted for at least half a minute.
“Well, Charlotte, this is the Torbay team. DS Mallinson’s the joker.” Paulson regarded him with a flicker of distaste. “Greg’s the one who did the report on Mariella Prince.”
“Hello.” Said Charlotte. “I’ll want to have a look at that.”
“Stafford’s got it on his desk,” he said shortly.
She wasn’t impressed with the man. She noted the way his eyes wandered away from hers and slid down to inspect her breasts. She also took note of the overweight body which spoke of too little exercise, the prematurely thinning ginger hair, the smirk of ignorant superiority when he looked at her. She guessed he was a male chauvinist - the kind who groped women PC’s in dark corners when he had half a chance. It was likely he would strongly resent her presence and her rank. Mallinson had only reached sergeant in his mid thirties and was unlikely to rise any further. Charlotte decided she was going to have to keep an eye on Gregory Mallinson.
Paulson continued the introductions. “DC John Prendergast. He’s been with us less than a year. He’s the baby of the outfit.”
This one seemed to be a bright young chap as he came forward to shake her hand. He was tall and skinny, in his early twenties, with mop of tousled brown hair. He looked enthusiastic. How long would it be, she wondered, before he started looking for promotion away from this comfortable backwater?
“And DC Roberta Howell - likes to be known as Bobbie,” concluded the inspector.
Charlotte was struck by startling, light blue eyes in an otherwise plain face. She had a slim body made shapeless by the stiff trouser suit she was wearing. At least she would probably be safe from the wandering hands of Sergeant Mallinson.
Then, with a shock, she realised that she and Bobbie Howell were probably of a similar age. It showed what a huge difference a good degree and the opportunities offered by being in the Met could make.
“DCI Faraday,” said Paulson generally to the office, “has been sent to solve the Cynthia Adams case. She will be concentrating on that case only. Head office has decided that case has absolute priority. You will therefore give her every assistance she may ask for.” He nodded to Charlotte. “She has promised me that she will only take you away from your other duties when she considers it is essential. Otherwise you will continue to work to my instructions as before. Is that clear to everybody?”
“What about the Carter and Smythe cases?” asked Mallinson. “They’re both suspicious deaths. Do they still have priority?”
“After Adams, yes.” Paulson appeared impatient about discussing it. “But Adams is to have top priority over the next three months.”
Mallinson persisted sullenly, “So we’re likely to be taken off other cases at a moment’s notice, no matter how important our enquiries are at the
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