Read Online STORM LOG-0505: A Gripping, Supernatural Crime Thriller (The First Detective Deans Novel) by James D Mortain - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James D Mortain
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relation to others in the room suggested he must have been special to Amy.
‘Amy and Scotty,’ Mrs Poole said. ‘Taken at Sandymere Bay.’
Deans answered only with a nod and a smile but he was taking everything in. A daypack buried beneath an untidy pile of clothing in the corner of the room caught his attention.
‘May I look inside?’ Deans asked, exposing the bag.
‘Yes, of course. Oh my, it looks like Amy’s university bag.’ Mrs Poole held her hand to her mouth as Deans bent down beside the bag and unzipped the main compartment. He removed several law books and then found Amy’s student ID attached to an O’Neil lanyard. He looked closely at the badge. It was current.
‘Is it okay to take a look in the bathroom?’
Mrs Poole followed Deans into the en suite. He took a quick glance around, and then saw what he was after: Amy’s toothbrush and a hairbrush. He also saw a wash bag containing various other makeup and toiletry items, and a medicine box. He picked it up and saw that it was the gabapentin. Inside he discovered seven complete blister strips of ten small, white pills, plus four others. He checked the prescription label – 26 th September. A hundred capsules dispensed. Three per day, twenty-one per week. Twenty-six missing from the box. He performed a quiet calculation in his head. That would take them up to the night Amy went missing, unless she had others in reserve.
He cleared his throat and pointed to the toiletries and brushes. ‘Do you mind if I keep these all together and take them away with the bag? Amy will probably need them when she returns to university.’
‘Yes, yes, of course, please do,’ Mrs Poole willingly obliged.
It was devious but given the state of Mrs Poole’s emotions, he did not feel it appropriate at this stage to explain that both brushes could be rich sources of Amy’s DNA.
Having spent almost two hours with the Pooles, Deans concluded that he liked them very much and genuinely felt for them. They were a likeable couple and he imagined Amy would be no different.
‘Just before I go,’ he said, as the said their goodbyes, ‘I found a diary in Amy’s bedroom in Bath. There are references to a DM. You wouldn’t happen to know what or who that could be?’
Mrs Poole put her hand to her face and looked puzzled for a while. She did not ask her husband.
‘I think it could be something she does whilst she is here, looking at the dates in the diary,’ Deans said. ‘Could it be something she was doing for a hobby, or part of her coursework?’
‘How about Denise?’ Mr Poole suggested in a downcast voice.
They both stopped and looked over at him.
‘Denise?’ Deans mirrored. Mirroring was usually an effective technique of obtaining more information without having to ask for it. This was more than appropriate in Mr Poole’s case.
Instead, Mrs Poole once again resumed conversation duties. ‘Denise. Yes. She has been helping Amy with her coursework. I believe her surname is Moon. Yes, there we go. DM.’ She took a step towards her husband and touched the back of his hand. He did not respond.
‘Okay,’ Deans said, ‘how does Denise Moon help Amy?’
‘She’s a medium or something,’ Mrs Poole said, apologising for her husband with her eyes. ‘I don’t understand what they do. I know Amy has been working on the suggestion that mediums can help the police with their investigations. It was all part of her thesis.’
Deans had certainly never experienced such involvement at first hand, and as far as he knew, it was something fabricated for TV entertainment.
‘Interesting,’ he said, trying not to sound dismissive. ‘What do you know about this woman, Denise Moon?’
‘She has a shop in town and I think Amy sees her there. They get along rather well, evidently. I know Amy was enjoying their meetings.’
‘Is Amy into all that mystical, fortune-telling stuff?’ Deans asked.
‘No, it’s not like that at all,’ Mrs Poole said defensively.
‘Amy and Scotty,’ Mrs Poole said. ‘Taken at Sandymere Bay.’
Deans answered only with a nod and a smile but he was taking everything in. A daypack buried beneath an untidy pile of clothing in the corner of the room caught his attention.
‘May I look inside?’ Deans asked, exposing the bag.
‘Yes, of course. Oh my, it looks like Amy’s university bag.’ Mrs Poole held her hand to her mouth as Deans bent down beside the bag and unzipped the main compartment. He removed several law books and then found Amy’s student ID attached to an O’Neil lanyard. He looked closely at the badge. It was current.
‘Is it okay to take a look in the bathroom?’
Mrs Poole followed Deans into the en suite. He took a quick glance around, and then saw what he was after: Amy’s toothbrush and a hairbrush. He also saw a wash bag containing various other makeup and toiletry items, and a medicine box. He picked it up and saw that it was the gabapentin. Inside he discovered seven complete blister strips of ten small, white pills, plus four others. He checked the prescription label – 26 th September. A hundred capsules dispensed. Three per day, twenty-one per week. Twenty-six missing from the box. He performed a quiet calculation in his head. That would take them up to the night Amy went missing, unless she had others in reserve.
He cleared his throat and pointed to the toiletries and brushes. ‘Do you mind if I keep these all together and take them away with the bag? Amy will probably need them when she returns to university.’
‘Yes, yes, of course, please do,’ Mrs Poole willingly obliged.
It was devious but given the state of Mrs Poole’s emotions, he did not feel it appropriate at this stage to explain that both brushes could be rich sources of Amy’s DNA.
Having spent almost two hours with the Pooles, Deans concluded that he liked them very much and genuinely felt for them. They were a likeable couple and he imagined Amy would be no different.
‘Just before I go,’ he said, as the said their goodbyes, ‘I found a diary in Amy’s bedroom in Bath. There are references to a DM. You wouldn’t happen to know what or who that could be?’
Mrs Poole put her hand to her face and looked puzzled for a while. She did not ask her husband.
‘I think it could be something she does whilst she is here, looking at the dates in the diary,’ Deans said. ‘Could it be something she was doing for a hobby, or part of her coursework?’
‘How about Denise?’ Mr Poole suggested in a downcast voice.
They both stopped and looked over at him.
‘Denise?’ Deans mirrored. Mirroring was usually an effective technique of obtaining more information without having to ask for it. This was more than appropriate in Mr Poole’s case.
Instead, Mrs Poole once again resumed conversation duties. ‘Denise. Yes. She has been helping Amy with her coursework. I believe her surname is Moon. Yes, there we go. DM.’ She took a step towards her husband and touched the back of his hand. He did not respond.
‘Okay,’ Deans said, ‘how does Denise Moon help Amy?’
‘She’s a medium or something,’ Mrs Poole said, apologising for her husband with her eyes. ‘I don’t understand what they do. I know Amy has been working on the suggestion that mediums can help the police with their investigations. It was all part of her thesis.’
Deans had certainly never experienced such involvement at first hand, and as far as he knew, it was something fabricated for TV entertainment.
‘Interesting,’ he said, trying not to sound dismissive. ‘What do you know about this woman, Denise Moon?’
‘She has a shop in town and I think Amy sees her there. They get along rather well, evidently. I know Amy was enjoying their meetings.’
‘Is Amy into all that mystical, fortune-telling stuff?’ Deans asked.
‘No, it’s not like that at all,’ Mrs Poole said defensively.
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