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Book: No Smoke Without Fire (A DCI Warren Jones Novel - Book 2) by Paul Gitsham
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Authors: Paul Gitsham
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the wing mirrors. Almost every window was brightly lit, shadowy forms moving around inside. Grayson’s office and his were the only dark windows.
A brief stab of guilt was quickly repressed. He could go back in and easily work through the night, but experience had taught him his limits. There was a whole team following the leads that had already been generated; he would just be getting in the way. Besides, he needed the rest to lead effectively; far better to get a good night’s sleep and hit the ground running early the next morning. If anything urgent turned up, he trusted his team’s judgement to decide if he should be called or if it could be added to his morning task list.
Waving goodbye to Sutton, Warren drove the short distance home. Letting himself in, he found Susan sound asleep on the sofa, two piles of red exercise books next to her, another book open on her lap. One pile was much taller than the other — Warren sincerely hoped that was the completed set. The TV played quietly in the background: some dreadful-looking ‘reality’ show that he knew his wife would have immediately turned over if she had been awake.
The slight draft from the open door caused Susan to stir. “What time is it?” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.
“Late,” replied Warren, bending over to kiss her forehead. She smiled, before glancing down at the pile of books.
“Oh, no. I promised 9D2 I’d mark their books before the lesson tomorrow.” She groaned. “I shouldn’t have sat on the sofa to mark. I knew I’d fall asleep.” She picked up her red pen again. “I’ll be another hour at least.”
Warren knew better than to argue with her. If there was one profession that could engineer spurious guilty feelings from never doing enough work, it was teaching, he mused. He’d been with Susan long enough to know that, just like detectives, teachers could never do too much. There was always another job that could be done.
Warren felt a debt to the victims and families to turn over every stone; Susan felt the same way about her pupils. If she wasn’t marking their work, she was preparing lessons or devising new ways to teach difficult concepts, all in the hope that what she taught next lesson might be instrumental to them fulfilling their future dreams.
Warren kissed her again before heading upstairs to bed. Often, if one or the other was working late, they used the guest bedroom so as not to wake the sleeping partner. Warren vowed that he wouldn’t let Susan go to sleep alone tonight and so, after cleaning his teeth and getting ready for bed, he picked up the David Baldacci novel he was currently reading.
The plot was as gripping and suspenseful as ever, with ingenious twists and turns. So good that when his eyes closed of their own accord barely thirty pages in, his dreams were a riot of unconnected facts and strange occurrences.
An hour later Susan switched off the bedside reading light, carefully closed the book and carried her nightdress into the guest bedroom.
Wednesday 7 th December
Chapter 12
The arrival of Wednesday was announced by the insistent ringing of Warren’s mobile phone, which pulled double duty as his alarm clock. Somehow, he managed to locate it and perform the complicated swiping gesture necessary to silence it. A few moments later, a similar sound emanated from the guest bedroom. He groaned as he glanced over, noticing for the first time that Susan’s side of the bed hadn’t been slept in.
Despite the couple waking up in different rooms, their morning routine was pretty well established. Susan would jump in the shower first, whilst Warren put the kettle on and got breakfast ready. Although he wasn’t much of a breakfast person, Susan was and he dished up cereal — sultana bran, this month — with another handful of dried fruit on top and a chopped banana. He left the skimmed milk to one side, not wanting the cereal to get soggy, and poured a generous glass of apple juice.
As he
A brief stab of guilt was quickly repressed. He could go back in and easily work through the night, but experience had taught him his limits. There was a whole team following the leads that had already been generated; he would just be getting in the way. Besides, he needed the rest to lead effectively; far better to get a good night’s sleep and hit the ground running early the next morning. If anything urgent turned up, he trusted his team’s judgement to decide if he should be called or if it could be added to his morning task list.
Waving goodbye to Sutton, Warren drove the short distance home. Letting himself in, he found Susan sound asleep on the sofa, two piles of red exercise books next to her, another book open on her lap. One pile was much taller than the other — Warren sincerely hoped that was the completed set. The TV played quietly in the background: some dreadful-looking ‘reality’ show that he knew his wife would have immediately turned over if she had been awake.
The slight draft from the open door caused Susan to stir. “What time is it?” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.
“Late,” replied Warren, bending over to kiss her forehead. She smiled, before glancing down at the pile of books.
“Oh, no. I promised 9D2 I’d mark their books before the lesson tomorrow.” She groaned. “I shouldn’t have sat on the sofa to mark. I knew I’d fall asleep.” She picked up her red pen again. “I’ll be another hour at least.”
Warren knew better than to argue with her. If there was one profession that could engineer spurious guilty feelings from never doing enough work, it was teaching, he mused. He’d been with Susan long enough to know that, just like detectives, teachers could never do too much. There was always another job that could be done.
Warren felt a debt to the victims and families to turn over every stone; Susan felt the same way about her pupils. If she wasn’t marking their work, she was preparing lessons or devising new ways to teach difficult concepts, all in the hope that what she taught next lesson might be instrumental to them fulfilling their future dreams.
Warren kissed her again before heading upstairs to bed. Often, if one or the other was working late, they used the guest bedroom so as not to wake the sleeping partner. Warren vowed that he wouldn’t let Susan go to sleep alone tonight and so, after cleaning his teeth and getting ready for bed, he picked up the David Baldacci novel he was currently reading.
The plot was as gripping and suspenseful as ever, with ingenious twists and turns. So good that when his eyes closed of their own accord barely thirty pages in, his dreams were a riot of unconnected facts and strange occurrences.
An hour later Susan switched off the bedside reading light, carefully closed the book and carried her nightdress into the guest bedroom.
Wednesday 7 th December
Chapter 12
The arrival of Wednesday was announced by the insistent ringing of Warren’s mobile phone, which pulled double duty as his alarm clock. Somehow, he managed to locate it and perform the complicated swiping gesture necessary to silence it. A few moments later, a similar sound emanated from the guest bedroom. He groaned as he glanced over, noticing for the first time that Susan’s side of the bed hadn’t been slept in.
Despite the couple waking up in different rooms, their morning routine was pretty well established. Susan would jump in the shower first, whilst Warren put the kettle on and got breakfast ready. Although he wasn’t much of a breakfast person, Susan was and he dished up cereal — sultana bran, this month — with another handful of dried fruit on top and a chopped banana. He left the skimmed milk to one side, not wanting the cereal to get soggy, and poured a generous glass of apple juice.
As he
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