Dead Old by Maureen Carter Read Free Book Online Page A

melt.”
    “You’re joking, aren’t you?” Davy tried a faltering smile but Jake was deadly serious. “Come on, Jake, you know I’d never –”
    “Never what?” Jake ran a finger along Davy’s cheek. “Smack an old girl round the face?”
    Kev and Robbie sat back, brawny arms crossed. They were enjoying the master-class; it was the closest they’d come to school for years. With their shaven heads and acne scars they looked
like the Brothers Grimm. With his blond hair and blue eyes, Davy was definitely not one of the family.
    Jake wrenched Davy’s arm one last time before finally releasing his grip. “Only joking. You wouldn’t hurt a fly, would you, Davy?”
    He smiled uncertainly. Was Jake winding him up? He could never tell. “I’m only saying that maybe we need to lie low. Keep our heads down for a bit.” Davy didn’t just want
to lie low; he never wanted to go near another wrinkly as long as he lived. Except his gran.
    Jake appeared to give it deep thought, nodding slightly with a finger pressed on his pursed lips. “Maybe you’re right, my old son.” Then he leaned in so close Davy could smell
the espresso on his breath. “Tell you what, though. For old times’ sake – there’s just one little job I’d like you to do.”
     
    4
    Detective Inspector Danny Shields.
    Daniella.
    Bev wanted the floor to open. She needed to disappear for a while. A couple of light years might do the trick. No. A miracle would be better. Dear God, raise me from the dead embarrassed. The
new DI wasn’t just a woman, she was the woman Bev had casually dismissed as Harry’s latest totty and – oh, shit – the woman she’d just blithely despatched to the
toilet. Talk about cringe. Bev’s toes were so curled they had cramp. She tried concentrating on the case – difficult with Danny Girl in the next seat.
    Byford was still running through the introductions. Reactions from the floor were predictable, with most of the men casting covert glances at the new DI’s legs. Bev pulled her skirt down
as far it would go, covered her lap with a clipboard. With the social niceties out of the way, the guv was in business. He took up position alongside the murder board, started outlining the
previous attacks and comparing them with the latest crime. The talk was illustrated; they’d all seen the police photographs on the board before. Three pairs of frightened eyes stared from
faces battered purple; grossly swollen bumps and coarse black sutures exacerbated the horror.
    Until today Bev had sensed that some of the team was growing inured to the sight, the shocking images losing their impact. She’d even caught a few sick granny jokes doing the rounds. But
now a new picture had been added to the gallery of shame. This morning’s still nameless victim was up there with Iris Collins, Joan Goddard and Ena Bolton. Were they linked? Bev was unsure;
there were glaring inconsistencies as well as apparent connections.
    The first three victims were widows in their late seventies. Ena and Joan lived within a couple of streets of each other in Kings Heath. Iris had a three-storey redbrick in
Moseley. Had being the operative word. She was too frightened now to live alone, let alone too frail. She’d moved in with her daughter.
    Iris Collins had been attacked first. Initially her daughter Angela believed that Iris had fallen downstairs. She’d driven over from Harborne to take Iris to the hairdresser’s. It
was a regular weekly appointment, thank God. The old woman had lain on the hall floor for only one night. Already enfeebled by a heart condition and mild dementia, Iris could barely speak by the
time her daughter arrived. It was three days before Angela discovered that Iris’s wedding ring was missing and the life savings her mother kept under the mattress had disappeared, and alerted
the police.
    Bev had read the interview notes. According to DC Carol Mansfield, the old woman had been vague, incoherent, kept blathering