STORM LOG-0505: A Gripping, Supernatural Crime Thriller (The First Detective Deans Novel) by James D Mortain Read Free Book Online

But I need you to understand that any formal evidence you provide needs to be the truth and if you knowingly make a false declaration you could be prosecuted or even end up in prison.’ Deans smiled broadly. ‘Is that all right?’
    Groves did just enough to nod.
    ‘So, shall I catch up with you again tomorrow with a typed statement?’
    Groves nodded again and let himself out of the room.

Chapter 8
    Deans watched Groves leave the building, then made his way quickly up to the office and looked out of the window to the council car park below. It was dark outside but the domed streetlamps did a reasonable job of lighting up the parking bays.
    Headlight beams in the far corner grabbed his attention. A vehicle was coming up the ramp. He tracked the car and as it passed below his window, he confirmed it was an orange Citroen Saxo, complete with black bonnet. He also noticed two yellow stickers on either side of the windscreen and a familiar Bath rugby club sticker on the back window. Although he could not see Groves from this angle, he had no doubt this was his car.
    The office was empty. The clock on the wall showed 9:10 p.m. A Post-it on his computer screen informed him of two missed calls from Janet Poole.
    He took a deep breath, held the phone to his ear and dialled the number.
    ‘Hello,’ she answered after the first ring.
    ‘Hello, Mrs Poole?’
    ‘Yes,’ she replied hurriedly.
    ‘Mrs Poole, this is DC Deans. I am very sorry for the lateness of the call. Is it convenient to speak?’
    ‘Yes. Do you have some news?’ Her voice was brittle.
    ‘No… I’m afraid there’s no update. I’m sorry I missed your calls. Was there something specific I can help—’
    ‘Have you spoken to Scotty?’
    ‘Scotty?’
    ‘Amy was meeting Scotty on Saturday night.’
    Deans sat upright. ‘No. Who is Scotty?’
    ‘Amy’s best friend.’
    ‘Do you know where they were meeting?’ he said, turning over a fresh page.
    ‘Um, Torworthy, I assume.’
    Deans scribbled Torworthy in his daybook.
    ‘And Scotty’s last name, please?’
    ‘Parsons. Scott Parsons.’
    Deans wrote the name in capitals further down the page and circled it several times.
    ‘And his address?’
    ‘Oh, I’m afraid I don’t know. He moved, but is still in the area.’
    ‘Phone number?’
    ‘Sorry.’
    Deans circled his name a few more times.
    ‘Can you think of anyone else who may know his address or contact number?’
    ‘Sorry.’ There was a pause.
    ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Poole. There are other ways I can find out.’
    She did not answer.
    ‘Am I right in thinking Amy drives a yellow VW Beetle?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Do you happen to know the registration number?’
    ‘Oh, gosh! Um… I’m sure I could have it for you tomorrow.’
    Deans hoped he could short cut the process by striking lucky on the Intel database.
    ‘Would you happen to know if Amy’s car is still parked at the house?’
    ‘Oh, no, it wouldn’t be at the house as we only have a small driveway. Amy usually parks on the road at the front.’
    ‘Thank you, Mrs Poole. I’m unfamiliar with the area. If I requested a local officer to attend that road, do you think Amy’s car would be easy to locate?’
    ‘Oh, yes. Parking is only allowed on one side because the road is so narrow.’
    Deans’ mind drifted and he imagined Amy’s Beetle neatly parked beside a slim pavement in front of a row of semi-detached houses.
    Amy’s car might present a forensic Nirvana: traces of blood, semen or other bodily fluids. Maybe signs of a struggle or fight. Foreign fibres of clothing. Even a body in the boot, although that would be unlikely – the local critters would be paying more than a passing interest after this number of days.
    ‘Do you know if there are any spare car keys at the house?’
    ‘I’m afraid I don’t know, but Amy would normally hang her keys from the hook in the hallway.’
    Deans nodded knowingly. That was standard practice for people inexperienced at home security.