Read Online Knightley and Son (9781619631540) by Rohan Gavin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rohan Gavin
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Inspector,” a voice interrupted him.
Darkus immediately recognized the voice and matched it with the aroma he’d detected moments after his father did. “Uncle Bill . . . ,” he muttered under his breath.
“It’s Chief Inspector!” Draycott called out, unable to see whom he was addressing.
By this time, the wisps of cigar smoke were visibly climbing the stairs, although Bill himself was planted firmly in the entrance hall, his girth apparently too abundant for the crowded staircase.
“And you are . . . ?” said Draycott.
“A friend,” Bill replied, then lowered his smoldering stogie and held up a leather ID wallet.
“And not a moment too soon,” said Knightley, offering his cuffed hands to Draycott.
Draycott parted his way through the smoke and examined Bill’s ID. “SO 42 . . . ?” he scoffed. “Never heard of it.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. Yer’ll find a phone number there . . .” Bill held it up to Draycott’s face. “I suggest ye call it.”
Draycott snatched the ID wallet out of his hand and drew a cell phone from his utility belt. He marched into the living room, punching the number into the keypad, then stopped, surprised to receive an immediate answer on the other end.
“Hello? Yes, this is Chief Inspector Draycott. Who is this?”
There was a long pause as the voice on the other end delivered a long and thorough explanation.
“But—” Draycott tried to interject, but the voice continued for another ten seconds.
The rest of the police officers listened in silence. Knightley took the opportunity to exchange pleasantries with his old friend.
“You’ve lost some weight, Bill. Approximately three pounds, I’d say.”
“Aye, thank ye for noticing, Alan.”
Meanwhile, Draycott slowly turned a shade paler and lowered the phone, unconsciously clipping it to his belt.Then he went completely quiet for a moment.
“Sir?” a policeman asked, concerned.
“Yes . . . ?” Draycott replied, dazed. “Yes,” he repeated, regaining command of himself. “Move out, men. We have a . . .” He searched for the right word. “A jurisdictional issue.”
The assembled officers looked at each other.
“You heard me,” he said, pointing to the door. “Chop-chop.” Draycott thrust the ID wallet back at Bill and turned to Knightley. “Until next time, Alan,” he said, unlocking the handcuffs and reattaching them to his belt. “And there will certainly be a next time,” he warned, then followed his officers out.
Clive and Jackie descended the stairs, unsure of what had just happened.
“Clive, Jackie, would ye give me a moment alone with Alan and young Darkus?” Bill requested.
“Doc, is that okay with you?” Jackie asked.
“Absolutely, yes-yes,” Darkus replied, unable to hide his enthusiasm.
Then a new voice interjected. “If you’re missing something, you might want to talk to me too,” said Tilly, standing above them on the stairs. “I saw a couple of cops snooping around Darkus’s bedroom—only I don’t think they were real cops.” She had their attention now. “They left five minutes ago.”
Darkus listened carefully as Tilly relayed her story to Knightley and Uncle Bill, giving a full description of the two suspects, along with cell-phone video footage of them leaving the scene in their police car. Bill instantly relayed the details to the local constabulary, who confirmed that the two officers in question never reported back to the station.
First they’d stolen Knightley’s case files, then they’d made sure his progress was obstructed by Draycott. Now the Knowledge, and its thieves, were long gone.
Struggling to keep pace with events, strangely, Darkus found himself wondering about Tilly’s hair and the fact that it had changed color again since the previous day. He marveled at how she found time for anything else, let alone to observe the suspicious behavior of two so-called police officers. He had to admit he was impressed. After
Darkus immediately recognized the voice and matched it with the aroma he’d detected moments after his father did. “Uncle Bill . . . ,” he muttered under his breath.
“It’s Chief Inspector!” Draycott called out, unable to see whom he was addressing.
By this time, the wisps of cigar smoke were visibly climbing the stairs, although Bill himself was planted firmly in the entrance hall, his girth apparently too abundant for the crowded staircase.
“And you are . . . ?” said Draycott.
“A friend,” Bill replied, then lowered his smoldering stogie and held up a leather ID wallet.
“And not a moment too soon,” said Knightley, offering his cuffed hands to Draycott.
Draycott parted his way through the smoke and examined Bill’s ID. “SO 42 . . . ?” he scoffed. “Never heard of it.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. Yer’ll find a phone number there . . .” Bill held it up to Draycott’s face. “I suggest ye call it.”
Draycott snatched the ID wallet out of his hand and drew a cell phone from his utility belt. He marched into the living room, punching the number into the keypad, then stopped, surprised to receive an immediate answer on the other end.
“Hello? Yes, this is Chief Inspector Draycott. Who is this?”
There was a long pause as the voice on the other end delivered a long and thorough explanation.
“But—” Draycott tried to interject, but the voice continued for another ten seconds.
The rest of the police officers listened in silence. Knightley took the opportunity to exchange pleasantries with his old friend.
“You’ve lost some weight, Bill. Approximately three pounds, I’d say.”
“Aye, thank ye for noticing, Alan.”
Meanwhile, Draycott slowly turned a shade paler and lowered the phone, unconsciously clipping it to his belt.Then he went completely quiet for a moment.
“Sir?” a policeman asked, concerned.
“Yes . . . ?” Draycott replied, dazed. “Yes,” he repeated, regaining command of himself. “Move out, men. We have a . . .” He searched for the right word. “A jurisdictional issue.”
The assembled officers looked at each other.
“You heard me,” he said, pointing to the door. “Chop-chop.” Draycott thrust the ID wallet back at Bill and turned to Knightley. “Until next time, Alan,” he said, unlocking the handcuffs and reattaching them to his belt. “And there will certainly be a next time,” he warned, then followed his officers out.
Clive and Jackie descended the stairs, unsure of what had just happened.
“Clive, Jackie, would ye give me a moment alone with Alan and young Darkus?” Bill requested.
“Doc, is that okay with you?” Jackie asked.
“Absolutely, yes-yes,” Darkus replied, unable to hide his enthusiasm.
Then a new voice interjected. “If you’re missing something, you might want to talk to me too,” said Tilly, standing above them on the stairs. “I saw a couple of cops snooping around Darkus’s bedroom—only I don’t think they were real cops.” She had their attention now. “They left five minutes ago.”
Darkus listened carefully as Tilly relayed her story to Knightley and Uncle Bill, giving a full description of the two suspects, along with cell-phone video footage of them leaving the scene in their police car. Bill instantly relayed the details to the local constabulary, who confirmed that the two officers in question never reported back to the station.
First they’d stolen Knightley’s case files, then they’d made sure his progress was obstructed by Draycott. Now the Knowledge, and its thieves, were long gone.
Struggling to keep pace with events, strangely, Darkus found himself wondering about Tilly’s hair and the fact that it had changed color again since the previous day. He marveled at how she found time for anything else, let alone to observe the suspicious behavior of two so-called police officers. He had to admit he was impressed. After
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