as an afterthought, 'He's also a
stuck-up arsehole.'
Bolt sighed in agreement. 'There's never any shortage of
them. I reckon we need to take matters into our hands and get
on to Jean.'
DC Jean Riley was the youngest of Bolt's team at only twenty
four, and his most recent recruit. She had excellent contacts with
the liaison people at the UK's various phone companies and
network providers, and was therefore always given the task of
chasing up the phone records of suspects. She'd been supplied
with the dead judge's landline and mobile numbers earlier
that morning and told to get details of the calls logged to and
from them. However, because their team was small, she'd also
had to travel to Suffolk to interview the politician's sister, so it
wasn't a surprise that she hadn't come back to him yet. The
events here, however, meant that she was now going to have to
redouble her efforts. Phone records can be difficult to get hold
of. They take time and, thanks to Britain's Data Protection Act,
they usually involve paperwork and high-level authorization.
But in reality, if you're willing to push hard enough, you can
usually get results.
Bolt pulled out his mobile and called Jean's number.
She answered on the second ring. 'How's everything going,
sir?'
'We've had a few developments,' he said, telling her what had
happened to Calley. 'Where are you now?'
'Back at HQ. I didn't get much out of our victim's sister in
Lowestoft. She was quite a friendly old girl, married with four
grown-up kids, but she only saw him once a year at Christmas,
and it doesn't sound like she was very close to him. She said he
was a bit pompous.'
'That doesn't surprise me. He always seemed it on the telly.
Any joy on the phone records?'
'I've got them here in front of me,' she said. 'Landline and
mobile. He seemed to mainly use the landline. I've been going
through them for the last twenty minutes and there doesn't seem
to be anything untoward.'
'How about calls to or from Jack Calley?'
'Hold on a minute, let me have a look.' Bolt waited a few
moments while she checked. She hummed a tune - it sounded
vaguely like 'Diamonds are Forever' - while she worked. 'There
are three calls to the Renfrew, Calley and Partners office
number made from the landline in the last six weeks. Two were
about ten minutes long, the last one four minutes nine seconds.
Made on Monday afternoon.'
'Nothing untoward there. What about the mobile?'
'I'm checking again, but...' She paused. 'No, nothing.'
So, there was no hurried series of calls between the Lord
Chief Justice and his solicitor, no lengthy conversations. Bolt should have been pleased as it supported his theory that the
politician had committed suicide. If this was so, he could go
home, get his takeaway, crack open a nice bottle of Shiraz and
settle down to watch the great Miss Marple at work. See how it
was really done. Yet he was oddly disappointed. Two killers had
i brutally murdered a young man in the prime of his life. The
lyoung man in question might have been a lawyer (a profession
IJor the most part made up of conmen and charlatans, in Bolt's ©pinion), but that wasn't the point. The type of person who can
Jfetorture a man and then string him up to die deserves to be put
liway for life, and Bolt wasn't entirely sure that DCI Keith
I Lambden was the best person to make this state of affairs come [about.
'Can you do me a favour, Jean?' he asked.
'Of course, sir. What is it?'
'Can you get the records for Calley's office and home numbers,
and his mobile?'
'Have you got his mobile number?'
'Not yet, but you can get hold of it, can't you?'
'If it's registered in his name, yes, but it'll take a while.'
For the first time, he thought he detected disappointment in
her voice. He knew she had a boyfriend, a guy her own age
in the civil service, and wondered if they had plans tonight.
Probably, and he doubted if they involved watching Miss
Marple. He thought about letting it go. Jean was a good,
enthusiastic worker and he didn't want
stuck-up arsehole.'
Bolt sighed in agreement. 'There's never any shortage of
them. I reckon we need to take matters into our hands and get
on to Jean.'
DC Jean Riley was the youngest of Bolt's team at only twenty
four, and his most recent recruit. She had excellent contacts with
the liaison people at the UK's various phone companies and
network providers, and was therefore always given the task of
chasing up the phone records of suspects. She'd been supplied
with the dead judge's landline and mobile numbers earlier
that morning and told to get details of the calls logged to and
from them. However, because their team was small, she'd also
had to travel to Suffolk to interview the politician's sister, so it
wasn't a surprise that she hadn't come back to him yet. The
events here, however, meant that she was now going to have to
redouble her efforts. Phone records can be difficult to get hold
of. They take time and, thanks to Britain's Data Protection Act,
they usually involve paperwork and high-level authorization.
But in reality, if you're willing to push hard enough, you can
usually get results.
Bolt pulled out his mobile and called Jean's number.
She answered on the second ring. 'How's everything going,
sir?'
'We've had a few developments,' he said, telling her what had
happened to Calley. 'Where are you now?'
'Back at HQ. I didn't get much out of our victim's sister in
Lowestoft. She was quite a friendly old girl, married with four
grown-up kids, but she only saw him once a year at Christmas,
and it doesn't sound like she was very close to him. She said he
was a bit pompous.'
'That doesn't surprise me. He always seemed it on the telly.
Any joy on the phone records?'
'I've got them here in front of me,' she said. 'Landline and
mobile. He seemed to mainly use the landline. I've been going
through them for the last twenty minutes and there doesn't seem
to be anything untoward.'
'How about calls to or from Jack Calley?'
'Hold on a minute, let me have a look.' Bolt waited a few
moments while she checked. She hummed a tune - it sounded
vaguely like 'Diamonds are Forever' - while she worked. 'There
are three calls to the Renfrew, Calley and Partners office
number made from the landline in the last six weeks. Two were
about ten minutes long, the last one four minutes nine seconds.
Made on Monday afternoon.'
'Nothing untoward there. What about the mobile?'
'I'm checking again, but...' She paused. 'No, nothing.'
So, there was no hurried series of calls between the Lord
Chief Justice and his solicitor, no lengthy conversations. Bolt should have been pleased as it supported his theory that the
politician had committed suicide. If this was so, he could go
home, get his takeaway, crack open a nice bottle of Shiraz and
settle down to watch the great Miss Marple at work. See how it
was really done. Yet he was oddly disappointed. Two killers had
i brutally murdered a young man in the prime of his life. The
lyoung man in question might have been a lawyer (a profession
IJor the most part made up of conmen and charlatans, in Bolt's ©pinion), but that wasn't the point. The type of person who can
Jfetorture a man and then string him up to die deserves to be put
liway for life, and Bolt wasn't entirely sure that DCI Keith
I Lambden was the best person to make this state of affairs come [about.
'Can you do me a favour, Jean?' he asked.
'Of course, sir. What is it?'
'Can you get the records for Calley's office and home numbers,
and his mobile?'
'Have you got his mobile number?'
'Not yet, but you can get hold of it, can't you?'
'If it's registered in his name, yes, but it'll take a while.'
For the first time, he thought he detected disappointment in
her voice. He knew she had a boyfriend, a guy her own age
in the civil service, and wondered if they had plans tonight.
Probably, and he doubted if they involved watching Miss
Marple. He thought about letting it go. Jean was a good,
enthusiastic worker and he didn't want
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