scene of his slaying. His eyes were still open. The whiskey he’d been holding had spilled all over the floor. ‘Look at the way it was done’ she continued. ‘Right in the middle of his forehead’.
‘I agree, June’ said Jeff who was standing with her and DI Ollie Wright. They were surrounded by a forensics team that had begun to trawl every inch of the place for clues of some other identity. The identity of a killer.
‘And no sign of a forced entry, sir’ Ollie reminded his boss. ‘And it looked like he’d prepared a glass for his visitor. He was planning to drink with him’.
‘So why would someone with whom he was on such friendly terms want to walk in here and kill him?’ Jeff speculated. ‘What had he done to so mortally offend someone that he must’ve previously been on good terms with? This is going to be messy. I just know it’.
‘What a waste of all that lovely Irish whiskey now spilt all over the floor’ said June Hawkins. ‘What a criminal waste. I once got very drunk at a pathologists conference in Dublin a few years ago on gallons of Irish whiskey. I don’t remember much but I think I had a rather good time and that it involved the Norwegian delegate in some way. I can’t think how but I’m sure his name was Carl’.
‘No, of course not’ said Jeff, smiling.
‘I never heard from him again though’ said June, suddenly disappointed. ‘Its funny how that sort of thing happens isn’t it’
‘I know’ said Jeff. ‘But can we get back to the bits of Barry Murphy’s brain splattered all over the wall, the floor, his desk and his chair’.
‘Sorry, love’ said June, smiling at Jeff. ‘You know how detached we become in this business, Jeff’.
‘Yes I do and that’s why we love you. Keep up the good work!’
‘She’s quite a case, isn’t she?’ remarked DI Ollie Wright in the car. Jeff was driving them out to Alderley Edge to see the family of Barry Murphy.
‘Who? Our June Hawkins? She certainly is. They broke the mould when they made her that’s for sure’.
Ollie scrolled down his email messages that he was reading on his phone. He’d had an argument with his father last night about the internet. His father said all this technology was taking over the world and the simple way human beings needed to live their lives. Ollie had disagreed saying that his work as a police officer would be made so much harder without access to the internet and computer systems at work. They’d had to beg to differ in the end.
‘Now this might be interesting, sir?’ said Ollie as his attention was taken on a particular email from a contact he’d made in the PSNI. ‘Apparently, Padraig O’Connell’s murder victim, the RUC officer James Carson, was shot dead using his own gun’.
‘What?’
‘Yeah’ said Ollie who was reading the rest and taking it all in. ‘The only gun they found with O’Connell’s prints on it was Carson’s official issue handgun’.
‘Do they know how that came to be?’
‘Yeah’ said Ollie who was reading at the same time as explaining. ‘Apparently at the trial O’Connell claimed that Carson had pulled his gun on him but that they’d got into a scuffle and the gun went off when it had been pointing at Carson. The prosecution never pushed it any further because they were happy to be able to put O’Connell away for a long time without having to clarify any details that might get in the way of that’.
‘Where could they have pushed it further to I wonder?’ said Jeff.
‘Do you think they might have known but didn’t want to go there for some reason?’
‘It’s a possibility’ said Jeff. ‘I tend to think there was probably a lot going on with the justice system in Northern Ireland at that time that even police officers like us wouldn’t get to know about. After our experiences with other recent cases I would not be surprised at anything the establishment did to get its own way and dish something up to the public in
‘I agree, June’ said Jeff who was standing with her and DI Ollie Wright. They were surrounded by a forensics team that had begun to trawl every inch of the place for clues of some other identity. The identity of a killer.
‘And no sign of a forced entry, sir’ Ollie reminded his boss. ‘And it looked like he’d prepared a glass for his visitor. He was planning to drink with him’.
‘So why would someone with whom he was on such friendly terms want to walk in here and kill him?’ Jeff speculated. ‘What had he done to so mortally offend someone that he must’ve previously been on good terms with? This is going to be messy. I just know it’.
‘What a waste of all that lovely Irish whiskey now spilt all over the floor’ said June Hawkins. ‘What a criminal waste. I once got very drunk at a pathologists conference in Dublin a few years ago on gallons of Irish whiskey. I don’t remember much but I think I had a rather good time and that it involved the Norwegian delegate in some way. I can’t think how but I’m sure his name was Carl’.
‘No, of course not’ said Jeff, smiling.
‘I never heard from him again though’ said June, suddenly disappointed. ‘Its funny how that sort of thing happens isn’t it’
‘I know’ said Jeff. ‘But can we get back to the bits of Barry Murphy’s brain splattered all over the wall, the floor, his desk and his chair’.
‘Sorry, love’ said June, smiling at Jeff. ‘You know how detached we become in this business, Jeff’.
‘Yes I do and that’s why we love you. Keep up the good work!’
‘She’s quite a case, isn’t she?’ remarked DI Ollie Wright in the car. Jeff was driving them out to Alderley Edge to see the family of Barry Murphy.
‘Who? Our June Hawkins? She certainly is. They broke the mould when they made her that’s for sure’.
Ollie scrolled down his email messages that he was reading on his phone. He’d had an argument with his father last night about the internet. His father said all this technology was taking over the world and the simple way human beings needed to live their lives. Ollie had disagreed saying that his work as a police officer would be made so much harder without access to the internet and computer systems at work. They’d had to beg to differ in the end.
‘Now this might be interesting, sir?’ said Ollie as his attention was taken on a particular email from a contact he’d made in the PSNI. ‘Apparently, Padraig O’Connell’s murder victim, the RUC officer James Carson, was shot dead using his own gun’.
‘What?’
‘Yeah’ said Ollie who was reading the rest and taking it all in. ‘The only gun they found with O’Connell’s prints on it was Carson’s official issue handgun’.
‘Do they know how that came to be?’
‘Yeah’ said Ollie who was reading at the same time as explaining. ‘Apparently at the trial O’Connell claimed that Carson had pulled his gun on him but that they’d got into a scuffle and the gun went off when it had been pointing at Carson. The prosecution never pushed it any further because they were happy to be able to put O’Connell away for a long time without having to clarify any details that might get in the way of that’.
‘Where could they have pushed it further to I wonder?’ said Jeff.
‘Do you think they might have known but didn’t want to go there for some reason?’
‘It’s a possibility’ said Jeff. ‘I tend to think there was probably a lot going on with the justice system in Northern Ireland at that time that even police officers like us wouldn’t get to know about. After our experiences with other recent cases I would not be surprised at anything the establishment did to get its own way and dish something up to the public in
Similar Books
