The Gospel Makers by Anthea Fraser Read Free Book Online Page B

severe-looking. Still, if she’s as devoted and efficient as Susie says, that’s all that matters.’
    So the invasion had taken place. Dilys devoutly hoped it would have no inhibiting effect on her thought processes. ‘I’m going to the study,’ she said.
    *
    ‘Ken?’
    Sergeant Jackson straightened in his chair. ‘Yes, Guv?’
    ‘That sudden death at the King’s Head: Pringle’s not happy with it. I’ll meet you at the gate in five minutes. No point in taking the car.’
    ‘Right, Guv.’
    Jackson dropped the phone back on its stand and glanced out of the window. The sun was shining — a great day to be out of the office, even if it meant dealing with some poor stiff at the King’s Head.
    He was whistling as he strolled past the pond in the station forecourt. It was Vicky’s birthday at the end of the week — unbelievable to think she’d be eight. She’d set her heart on a video game, Millie said, but there was no way she was getting one. Jackson didn’t hold with them on various counts, not the least being cost. In any case he’d rather she played outdoors like kids always used to, instead of being cooped up all day in front of the telly.
    Quick footsteps behind him announced Webb’s arrival, and Jackson prepared to adjust his shorter stride to his chief’s long lope as they set off down Carrington Street.
    ‘So what have we got, Guv?’
    ‘The chambermaid found him when she went to do the bed. In his chair, apparently without a mark on him, but Pringle smells a rat, not least because they don’t know who he is. No identification at all: money in his wallet, but no credit cards, cheque-book, driving licence or diary and no clues in his overnight bag.’
    ‘He must have registered, surely?’
    ‘I’d have thought so. We’ll sort it out when we get there.’
    They had turned the corner into the busier thoroughfare of Duke Street and had to raise their voices to be heard over the heavy traffic.
    ‘And there’s no obvious cause of death?’ Jackson asked.
    ‘Seems not, but I’d back Pringle’s suspicions any day.’
    They walked on in silence until they reached Gloucester Circus, the busy centre of the town where, like spokes from a wheel, no fewer than five main roads radiated in all directions. Waiting for the lights to change, Webb eyed the hotel directly opposite them. It had been a landmark of the town for as long as he could remember, but had been closed for a year or so while major refurbishment took place. No different from the outside anyway; probably a preservation order on it, he reflected.
    The lights changed and they crossed to the other side and pushed their way through the swing doors.
    ‘Fair smartened the old place up, haven’t they?’ Jackson commented, noting with approval the pale wood panelling and thick carpet. ‘Don’t think they’d welcome us for a pie and a pint these days, Guv!’
    ‘It was never my scene,’ Webb returned shortly. He approached the reception desk. ‘DC Webb, Shillingham CID.’
    ‘Yes, sir, Mr Diccon is expecting you. He’ll show you up, if you’d like to come this way.’
    They were whisked smartly into an elaborately appointed office. A tall, thin man with over-long dark hair and a pale face rose from behind a desk.
    ‘Ah, good morning, gentlemen. This is terrible — terrible. And coming so soon on our reopening, too.’ He was almost wringing his hands.
    ‘If you could take us straight up, sir,’ Webb interposed smoothly, ‘we’d be glad of a word later.’
    ‘Yes, of course.’ Diccon led them down a short corridor to what was obviously the service lift, no doubt to protect the sensibilities of the other guests.
    ‘I understand there’s some question about the deceased’s identity?’ Webb said, as they waited for it to arrive. ‘Surely he checked in on arrival?’
    ‘Alas, no,’ Diccon replied. ‘He arrived yesterday around lunch-time, our busiest period. We have two conferences in progress and as you can imagine, the