Read Online Wasted Lives, a Detective Mike Bridger novel by Mark Bredenbeck - Free Book Online
Authors: Mark Bredenbeck
Ads: Link
taken on a chummy stance
as if they were old friends discussing past conquests. Bridger knew
he would gain nothing by pushing the matter. It would have to
keep.
He took
a deep breath and then laid out the enquiry so far. It all boiled
down to two things, a grainy black and white image of the side of
someone's head in the store, as well as the DNA and fingerprints
from the cans recovered from the area around the stolen
car.
"Not a hell of
a lot then is it Bridger, looks like you have an uphill climb on
this one. He said, with a neutral tone. "I'll take care of the
press release, and get someone to liaise with the family...I’m
going to promise them the world Bridger, don't make me a liar".
Matthews
dismissed him with a wave of his meaty hand.
The
Inspector had actually surprised him though, by not uttering a
single expletive in his whole speech.
A first for
everything, he thought.
He stood
for a second in the hallway outside of Matthews’s office and shook
his head, unsure of how to take Matthews new approach. He had not
mentioned the assault on Jonas Crompton that had plagued the Marion
Watson investigation, he was sure he would have had at least had a
disciplinary hearing under the code of conduct. You cannot just
assault prisoners and expect to get away with it, but it seemed
that someone had swept it under the carpet. If they let him off the
hook for this assault, he was damn sure he would be on someone's
hook when it came to calling in the favour. Bridger pushed the
thought to the back of his mind; it was not something he wanted to
dwell on.
Returning to
his office, he found a message waiting for him taped to his
computer monitor, Julie Downie's handwriting with her trademark
smiley face at the bottom.
Julie
was a civilian employee whose job description seemed to change
regularly to accommodate whatever new initiative the bosses had
decreed that week. She was a friendly and affable person who took
each new change in her stride, happy to be involved. This week it
seemed that she was taking messages.
The note read
simply; 'Fingerprint result from robbery, please call ext
44467.'
That was fast,
Bridger thought, a surge of adrenalin spiking in his bloodstream. A
suspect at this early stage would be the magic pill to possibly
solving the case. Picking up the phone, he dialled the numbers.
"The
suspect is Tama Wilson, twenty year old male, lives in Corstaphine.
We found his fingerprints on some empty cider cans littered around
where we recovered the stolen car at Unity Park. He has an
extensive history of dishonesty and he loves stealing cars so it
makes sense he could be involved with this stolen car". Bridger was
looking around the room as he addressed the staff. The office was
full; Bridger almost found it hard to breath. His Detectives and
the members of the Armed Offender Squad had squeezed into whatever
space they could find.
The last
time he had anything to do with the AOS he had not acquitted
himself very well, beating a suspect in an irrational rage, so he
felt slightly uncomfortable in their presence.
"We
still don't know if the car is actually connected to the robbery
just yet though do we", a police officer dressed in his black AOS
jumpsuit said from the rear of the room. Ken Moore, second in
command of the Armed Offender Squad, made the statement.
Everybody in the station knew that Ken was someone who had
little time for him. He unconsciously rubbed the spot on his
forehead that had felt the stock end of Ken's AOS rifle. Ken had
apparently ‘mistaken’ him for the bad guy when in the midst of a
fast moving situation; he was not so sure that was a true
account.
"You’re
quite right Ken, but it’s too much of a coincidence to ignore",
Bridger replied, ignoring the negative inflection in Ken's voice,
"That's why we are going to kick his door in and ask him what he
knows".
Brian
Johnson spoke up from the side of the room. "I've dealt with him a
few times in the past; he has never had a
as if they were old friends discussing past conquests. Bridger knew
he would gain nothing by pushing the matter. It would have to
keep.
He took
a deep breath and then laid out the enquiry so far. It all boiled
down to two things, a grainy black and white image of the side of
someone's head in the store, as well as the DNA and fingerprints
from the cans recovered from the area around the stolen
car.
"Not a hell of
a lot then is it Bridger, looks like you have an uphill climb on
this one. He said, with a neutral tone. "I'll take care of the
press release, and get someone to liaise with the family...I’m
going to promise them the world Bridger, don't make me a liar".
Matthews
dismissed him with a wave of his meaty hand.
The
Inspector had actually surprised him though, by not uttering a
single expletive in his whole speech.
A first for
everything, he thought.
He stood
for a second in the hallway outside of Matthews’s office and shook
his head, unsure of how to take Matthews new approach. He had not
mentioned the assault on Jonas Crompton that had plagued the Marion
Watson investigation, he was sure he would have had at least had a
disciplinary hearing under the code of conduct. You cannot just
assault prisoners and expect to get away with it, but it seemed
that someone had swept it under the carpet. If they let him off the
hook for this assault, he was damn sure he would be on someone's
hook when it came to calling in the favour. Bridger pushed the
thought to the back of his mind; it was not something he wanted to
dwell on.
Returning to
his office, he found a message waiting for him taped to his
computer monitor, Julie Downie's handwriting with her trademark
smiley face at the bottom.
Julie
was a civilian employee whose job description seemed to change
regularly to accommodate whatever new initiative the bosses had
decreed that week. She was a friendly and affable person who took
each new change in her stride, happy to be involved. This week it
seemed that she was taking messages.
The note read
simply; 'Fingerprint result from robbery, please call ext
44467.'
That was fast,
Bridger thought, a surge of adrenalin spiking in his bloodstream. A
suspect at this early stage would be the magic pill to possibly
solving the case. Picking up the phone, he dialled the numbers.
"The
suspect is Tama Wilson, twenty year old male, lives in Corstaphine.
We found his fingerprints on some empty cider cans littered around
where we recovered the stolen car at Unity Park. He has an
extensive history of dishonesty and he loves stealing cars so it
makes sense he could be involved with this stolen car". Bridger was
looking around the room as he addressed the staff. The office was
full; Bridger almost found it hard to breath. His Detectives and
the members of the Armed Offender Squad had squeezed into whatever
space they could find.
The last
time he had anything to do with the AOS he had not acquitted
himself very well, beating a suspect in an irrational rage, so he
felt slightly uncomfortable in their presence.
"We
still don't know if the car is actually connected to the robbery
just yet though do we", a police officer dressed in his black AOS
jumpsuit said from the rear of the room. Ken Moore, second in
command of the Armed Offender Squad, made the statement.
Everybody in the station knew that Ken was someone who had
little time for him. He unconsciously rubbed the spot on his
forehead that had felt the stock end of Ken's AOS rifle. Ken had
apparently ‘mistaken’ him for the bad guy when in the midst of a
fast moving situation; he was not so sure that was a true
account.
"You’re
quite right Ken, but it’s too much of a coincidence to ignore",
Bridger replied, ignoring the negative inflection in Ken's voice,
"That's why we are going to kick his door in and ask him what he
knows".
Brian
Johnson spoke up from the side of the room. "I've dealt with him a
few times in the past; he has never had a
Similar Books
