A Long Time Dead (The Dead Trilogy) by Andrew Barrett Read Free Book Online

found one yet he liked the look of. “Your call.”
    “Don’t mess with me. She was dead. Alright?”
    Roger folded his arms, “If you say she was dead, then she was dead.” He didn’t give Weston the chance of a retort before saying, “I’ll go make some notes about the scene as I found it, and then I’ll get to work. If you don’t mind.”
    Weston turned and stormed away. “You’re on my list,” he called over his shoulder. He aimed a finger gun and pulled the thumb hammer.
    “Bit late for a Christmas card,” he yelled, “but I appreciate the sentiment.” And then Roger turned away, and swallowed. He felt unwell, and successfully ignored the tremor in his fingers as he dialled home to leave a message for Yvonne to wake up to, just in case she was worried for him.
     
* * *
     
    At two-thirty, the rain had turned to snow flurries, and the wind blew in from the north, cold and icy. The blue strobes still flashed. Micky stood at the victim’s gate, a clipboard in his damp hands ready to note the names of people who would enter and leave the scene. So far, it was a very short list, but it was about to grow.
    The police surgeon, an on-call doctor, arrived at 02.40, the same time as DI Shelby. And ten minutes later, the doctor, dressed in a scene suit and overshoes, came out of the house and discreetly nodded. Detective Inspector Edward Shelby recorded ‘life extinct’ at 02.55.
     “Right, Roger,” said Shelby, a pleasantly rotund man with large ears and flabby cheeks, and with a neck that cascaded over his collar; he had the presence of a truck served up with typical Yorkshire brusqueness, “progress report, if you please.”
    Roger took the scene suit from the doctor, thanked him and bade him goodbye. He turned to Shelby. “Not much to tell. Give me another half an hour and we’ll get you started.” Roger pushed the doctor’s scene suit into an exhibit bag with ‘Police Evidence’ written across it in large blue letters. Wearing the suit and overshoes helped prevent inadvertent introduction of anything foreign; losing or disturbing as little evidence as possible.
    “Make that fifteen minutes,” insisted Shelby. “Where’s the coffee?”
    “Coffee? No time for a break yet, you’ve officers to order around and… and whatever else it is you do.” He smiled at Shelby’s crumpled face.
    “Coffee first, orders second, and whatever else can wait until I’ve thought of it.” Shelby reached deeper into his pockets, trying to keep the chill away. “You called a Supervisor out yet?”
    Roger taped a yellow Criminal Justice Act exhibit identity label to the bag, initialled over the tape and the bag’s seals, and threw it into the back of the van. “He’s on his way, Graham. And he’ll have coffee with him.”
    “Good. Who is it?”
    “Chris Hutchinson.”
    “The Professor? Your Supervisor ?”
    “Acting Supervisor; he’s on four weeks’ trial.”
    “You got some real competition there.”
    “Don’t remind me.” Roger paused by the van door, shielding himself from the wind. “I miss Lanky, Graham. Things are going to change radically at Wood Street SOCO now.”
    “You enjoy your month of playing God? I hardly saw you.”
    “Different. It’s all paperwork, stats and shift rotas. And just when you think you’ve caught up, they call you out to a major scene.” He smiled, nodding, “It was a challenge.”
    “I thought it’d be right up your alley.”
    “I ain’t out of the race yet,” Roger swept water from his glasses with a numb finger. “But I don’t have as much going for me as Chris does.”
    “You’ll be fine.” Shelby moved closer and whispered, “You know, Roger, I have a bit of sway with Denis Bell. I could always lean on him a bit.”
    Roger slammed the van door, eyes squinting against the wind. “Well, I appreciate the offer, Graham, I really do. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to see if I can get there on my own. No offence.”
    “None taken,” Shelby