Read Online The Patient Killer (A DCI Morton Crime Novel Book 4) by Sean Campbell, Daniel Campbell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sean Campbell, Daniel Campbell
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Niall Stapleton.’
The man stared at him. He had bloodshot eyes, tousled hair and a neck beard that hadn’t seen a razor for at least a month. ‘What about him?’ he said cautiously.
‘When did you see him last?’
‘I dunno. Last week?’
The kid was clearly as high as a kite and struggling to keep it together. He kept shifting from one foot to the other as if the ground were on fire and scratched his neck incessantly.
‘Is anyone else home?’ Morton asked.
The kid looked relieved. He turned back into the house and shouted: ‘Hey! Ophelia! Oi! Oh-feel-yah! Come down here.’
A wiry redhead shot down the stairs, a biochemistry textbook held aloft as if she were about to strike the stoner with it. ‘How many times have I told you? I do not want to get high with you. Some of us,’ Ophelia sniffed haughtily, ‘have to study.’
Morton leant past the stoner to make eye contact with Ophelia. ‘DCI Morton, Metropolitan Police. Do you have a moment?’
Ophelia froze for moment, nodded almost imperceptibly, and shooed the stoner inside. He stomped off towards the back of the house, allowing Morton a view of the ground floor.
It looked almost exactly like Niall Stapleton’s home, except the sofa had been taken out and replaced with a single bed. Morton could see a bong sitting on a shelf above it. He arched his eyebrows.
‘Come on through. You don’t want to stay in here too long. My room is upstairs.’
It was true. The room did have a dank, musky smell which was most unpleasant.
Rafferty pinched her nose as she followed Morton inside. ‘God! It smells like teenage boy.’
‘Yep. Don’t touch anything,’ Morton warned her.
The house was a mirror image of the Stapleton residence. The stairs were on the right, leading up to a small bathroom and a master bedroom at the back with a view over the tiny garden.
Ophelia led them through to her room and shut the door behind them.
‘Sorry about him. It’s a nightmare here. I missed out on halls, so I had to find somewhere last minute for the year, and ended up sharing with the biggest idiot on campus.’ Ophelia sat on the edge of her bed and motioned for one of the detectives to take the solitary chair which sat behind a tiny desk.
Morton stepped back to allow Rafferty to take the seat and then turned his attention to Ophelia. ‘Where are you studying?’
‘King’s.’
‘Impressive. Biochemistry?’ Morton said, gesturing at the textbook which now lay on the bed beside her.
‘Biochemical engineering, actually.’
‘Wow,’ Rafferty said.
‘Niall Stapleton,’ Morton said. ‘I assume you’re acquainted with him, given that your bedrooms share a wall.’
‘Intimately. He and Vanessa can be quite, ah, vocal. We’ve had arguments about that.’
‘Is Vanessa his girlfriend?’
‘Fiancée. She doesn’t live next door, not officially. But she’s always there.’’
Rafferty leant forward. ‘Have you ever heard them arguing?’
‘Of course. Don’t all couples argue?’
‘Did it ever become violent?’ Morton asked.
‘No. Never. They’re sweet together. I did hear a scream this morning, come to think of it. But I assumed it was just, you know, sex.’
Morton blushed.
Rafferty grinned at Morton’s obvious discomfort. ‘And what does Vanessa do for a living?’
‘She’s a lecturer. One of my lecturers, actually. I introduced them last September at the student union. It was my birthday and I didn’t really know anyone here yet, so I invited the neighbours.’
‘Would you happen to have her contact details?’
‘I could give you her email address. Hang on, I think I’ve got her office number too. It was in our starter pack for the year. She should still be at the university if you’re quick.’ Ophelia turned towards Rafferty. ‘Ms...?’
‘Rafferty,’ Rafferty supplied.
‘Ms Rafferty, if you could check the drawer beside you there, you should find a folder labelled Induction Information .’
Rafferty turned away
The man stared at him. He had bloodshot eyes, tousled hair and a neck beard that hadn’t seen a razor for at least a month. ‘What about him?’ he said cautiously.
‘When did you see him last?’
‘I dunno. Last week?’
The kid was clearly as high as a kite and struggling to keep it together. He kept shifting from one foot to the other as if the ground were on fire and scratched his neck incessantly.
‘Is anyone else home?’ Morton asked.
The kid looked relieved. He turned back into the house and shouted: ‘Hey! Ophelia! Oi! Oh-feel-yah! Come down here.’
A wiry redhead shot down the stairs, a biochemistry textbook held aloft as if she were about to strike the stoner with it. ‘How many times have I told you? I do not want to get high with you. Some of us,’ Ophelia sniffed haughtily, ‘have to study.’
Morton leant past the stoner to make eye contact with Ophelia. ‘DCI Morton, Metropolitan Police. Do you have a moment?’
Ophelia froze for moment, nodded almost imperceptibly, and shooed the stoner inside. He stomped off towards the back of the house, allowing Morton a view of the ground floor.
It looked almost exactly like Niall Stapleton’s home, except the sofa had been taken out and replaced with a single bed. Morton could see a bong sitting on a shelf above it. He arched his eyebrows.
‘Come on through. You don’t want to stay in here too long. My room is upstairs.’
It was true. The room did have a dank, musky smell which was most unpleasant.
Rafferty pinched her nose as she followed Morton inside. ‘God! It smells like teenage boy.’
‘Yep. Don’t touch anything,’ Morton warned her.
The house was a mirror image of the Stapleton residence. The stairs were on the right, leading up to a small bathroom and a master bedroom at the back with a view over the tiny garden.
Ophelia led them through to her room and shut the door behind them.
‘Sorry about him. It’s a nightmare here. I missed out on halls, so I had to find somewhere last minute for the year, and ended up sharing with the biggest idiot on campus.’ Ophelia sat on the edge of her bed and motioned for one of the detectives to take the solitary chair which sat behind a tiny desk.
Morton stepped back to allow Rafferty to take the seat and then turned his attention to Ophelia. ‘Where are you studying?’
‘King’s.’
‘Impressive. Biochemistry?’ Morton said, gesturing at the textbook which now lay on the bed beside her.
‘Biochemical engineering, actually.’
‘Wow,’ Rafferty said.
‘Niall Stapleton,’ Morton said. ‘I assume you’re acquainted with him, given that your bedrooms share a wall.’
‘Intimately. He and Vanessa can be quite, ah, vocal. We’ve had arguments about that.’
‘Is Vanessa his girlfriend?’
‘Fiancée. She doesn’t live next door, not officially. But she’s always there.’’
Rafferty leant forward. ‘Have you ever heard them arguing?’
‘Of course. Don’t all couples argue?’
‘Did it ever become violent?’ Morton asked.
‘No. Never. They’re sweet together. I did hear a scream this morning, come to think of it. But I assumed it was just, you know, sex.’
Morton blushed.
Rafferty grinned at Morton’s obvious discomfort. ‘And what does Vanessa do for a living?’
‘She’s a lecturer. One of my lecturers, actually. I introduced them last September at the student union. It was my birthday and I didn’t really know anyone here yet, so I invited the neighbours.’
‘Would you happen to have her contact details?’
‘I could give you her email address. Hang on, I think I’ve got her office number too. It was in our starter pack for the year. She should still be at the university if you’re quick.’ Ophelia turned towards Rafferty. ‘Ms...?’
‘Rafferty,’ Rafferty supplied.
‘Ms Rafferty, if you could check the drawer beside you there, you should find a folder labelled Induction Information .’
Rafferty turned away
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