Blind to the Bones by Stephen Booth Read Free Book Online

impatiently until he put the phone down.
    â€˜And I’ll complain to the Chief Constable about you too, madam,’ he said to the empty air. Then he looked up and grinned at Fry. ‘We’re not providing the high quality of customer service the lady expects for her Council Tax.’
    â€˜I hope you were polite, Gavin,’ said Fry.
    â€˜Polite? I charmed her so much that she’s coming round straight away to have sex with me.’
    But Fry wasn’t in the mood for Murfin’s brand of humour.
    â€˜Gavin, what are you doing at the moment?’
    â€˜Eh?’
    â€˜Nothing much, by the look of it.’
    â€˜I’m just having a minute, like.’
    â€˜Well, your minute’s up. There are crimes to be detected.’
    â€˜I’ve already detected one this year, Diane.’
    â€˜Well, it’s time to get your average up. Let’s see if we can make it one point five.’
    Murfin sighed. ‘I’ll just finish this sarnie.’
    Fry looked at his sandwich more closely. ‘Gavin, is that what I think it is?’
    â€˜Bacon and sausage.’ Murfin licked a bit of the grease off his fingers, then wiped the rest of it on a forensics report.
    â€˜There’s half an inch of fat on that bacon, Gavin. Have you never heard of cholesterol?’
    â€˜Yes, of course I have. Me and the wife went there for two weeks’ holiday last summer.’
    Fry breathed in slowly, suppressing an urge to begin screaming. She knew it came from the fear, not from anger at Murfin. It was something she would have to deal with later.
    â€˜Get the jokes out of your system now, Gavin,’ she said. ‘We’ve got a couple called Renshaw coming in.’
    Murfin gave a muffled groan from behind a mouthful of sausage. ‘You’re kidding! Not Emma Renshaw’s parents?’
    â€˜Do you remember the case?’
    â€˜ Everyone remembers it. What have they been doing now?’
    â€˜Who?’
    â€˜The Renshaws, of course.’
    â€˜Why should they have been doing anything?’
    â€˜Well, they’re regulars. Ask Traffic.’
    â€˜Gavin, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
    â€˜Then you ought to pull some of the files on the Renshaws before you talk to them. It might reduce the shock, like.’
    Murfin answered the phone and pulled a face at Fry.
    â€˜Too late. They’re here already.’
    â€˜Bring them up then, Gavin. No, hold on a minute. Come here.’
    Murfin stopped at Fry’s desk on his way out of the CID room. She opened a drawer and pulled a Kleenex tissue out of a box. She carefully wiped the tomato sauce off his chin, screwed up the tissue and threw it in the bin.
    â€˜OK. Now you look a bit less like an overweight vampire. You won’t scare the Renshaws so much.’
    â€˜You’re kidding. It’s me you ought to be worrying about, Diane. Those two are scarier than any vampire. They’re like something straight out of Night of the Living Dead .’
    â€˜You’re watching the wrong videos again, Gavin. Try something a bit more sensitive.’
    â€˜I don’t do sensitive,’ said Murfin, as he went to meet the Renshaws.
    Fry sat down, took another breath and looked across the room. Opposite Gavin Murfin’s chaotic, paper-strewn desk was another that looked empty, almost abandoned. It had been cleared by its occupant before a secondment to the Rural Crime Team. The sight of the empty desk made Fry wonder if there would come a time when there was nowhere she could go for support when she needed it.

4
    B y full light, black-headed gulls had been drifting up from the reservoirs in the valley, scavenging for the previous night’s roadkill.
    Every day, on his way into Edendale from Bridge End Farm, Ben Cooper had got used to seeing the squashed and bloodied remains of the wildlife slaughtered by traffic during the hours of darkness. Dead foxes and badgers, rabbits