Read Online Monument to Murder by Mari Hannah - Free Book Online Page B

time you intend to redraw the search boundaries. It’s important to keep control and let everyone know where we’re at.’
    DCs Brown and Carmichael were sitting next to each other as usual, so close it surprised Kate that their hips hadn’t fused together. They had joined the force in the same intake, had come to MIT as a pair. And what a great pair they were proving to be. An inseparable combination, they were complete opposites in terms of skills and personality. Brown was Daniels’ obs man. Quite a shy lad with the patience of a saint, he was highly skilled in surveillance techniques. Carmichael was an all-rounder. Technically savvy, an outgoing, gregarious detective with bags of confidence – an officer who could turn her hand to anything, pretty much.
    ‘Lisa, I want a trawl of the database: all suspicious incidents in and around Bamburgh the last fifteen years. Liaise with the back record team for that. Andy, concentrate on known offenders, any MO that remotely mentions dressing victims up. That’s it, guys. I declare this enquiry officially underway.’

17
    T HE R AILWAY I NN wasn’t far from the prison. It was a typical farmhouse conversion with a cosy wood-burner and photographs of a past association with horse racing adorning the walls. The lounge was almost empty. Not surprising on such a grim night. Jo Soulsby and Martin Stamp had taken their drinks to one corner of the lounge so as not to be overheard by the four regulars standing at the bar, all men. At least one of them was a prison officer, a tall skinny guy with two cute border terriers fast asleep on the floor at his feet.
    Jo’s glass of red wine was divine, if a little chilly, a bit like the atmosphere across the table. Stamp was silent now, staring into his pint as if it held the answer to his problems. He’d fallen over himself to apologize to her. It turned out he’d been to see Walter Fearon when he had no authority so to do and in her opinion no damned right either.
    She wanted to clear the air but was still wound up about his weirdness in the prison corridor after their squash game. To make matters worse, Naylor was due at any second. If he got wind of their little spat, policeman or not, the gloves would be off in the car park.
    Jo didn’t want that.
    Feeling like one half of an argumentative married couple, she scanned the empty tables around her. Other locals would pop in for the last hour, their way of showing support to the landlord for keeping the only pub in the village alive. The prison officer at the bar was watching her, casting the occasional glance here and there, maybe even the odd comment to the others if the smirk on his face was anything to go by.
    She looked away, avoiding his eyes.
    ‘You’ve overstepped your brief,’ she told Stamp.
    And he had: flashing his impressive credentials in order to infiltrate the medical wing; convincing the late shift that it was in their patient’s best interests to be seen by a psychiatrist, sooner rather than later, following his suicide attempt. Getting Fearon to open up and, in so doing, feeding his sick fantasies.
    Pushing her wine away, Jo took a deep breath and tried to calm down. She’d been angry with him ever since he made his move to step into Robert McCann’s shoes so soon after his death. But now she had more reasons to add to the list. His rough treatment of her was unforgiveable. He’d also blatantly poked his nose into Emily’s professional life. That was both patronizing and unfair.
    And still he didn’t answer.
    ‘I mean it, Martin. I’d like to believe you’re just looking out for her, but she doesn’t need or even want your protection.’ She wasn’t getting through. ‘When she finds out she’ll be bloody furious—’
    ‘Hold on a second! Didn’t she ask for our input only this morning?’
    ‘Yes, but—’
    ‘But nothing! As far as I’m concerned, her request justifies my actions. I just stopped by and had a little chat with him, that’s all.’