born administrator who was willing to rely on Mayo to get on with the job so long as he was kept well in the picture, a situation which suited both of them very well.
After performing this function as soon as he got to the station, Mayo came down from the third floor to find
Kite returned from Pennybridge, waiting for him with the name of someone who could put him in touch with the relatives of the murdered woman so that they could get a positive identification. Her name, he said, was Freeman, Dr Madeleine Freeman.
Kite didnât look as though his own sleep had done him much good; there were pouches under his eyes, but he was full of nervous energy, unable to keep still, and it soon became evident why. He was jubilant with the news that one of his informers had contacted him with a possible lead on the whereabouts of the disappearing witness in the child pornography case. It would mean, he remarked, a drive down to Essex for someone that morning, would mean taking two off the strength just when manpower was needed most. It was a statement made partly in query, partly in hope.
âBetter get off then, hadnât you, Martin? Itâs your case and weâre not letting them slip through the net at this stage.â
Mayo would be glad to see the end of it himself, for more reasons than one. It had been an emotionally slanted affair and a successful outcome would give a fillip to every man and woman on the strength.
Kite could hardly conceal his satisfaction at the hoped-for-reply, but he tried. âCouldnât have come at a worse time, I know, but we canât let up until weâve got these bastards.â
Mayo hoped Kite wasnât letting this one get to him. His normal, cheerful insouciance had been remarkable for its absence since heâd been dealing with this admittedly depressing inquiry. It was understandable â he had two boys of his own and an investigation of this sort was the pits, but Kite was a police officer and the rotten, mucky things of life were his business â heâd better snap out of it if he thought otherwise. You couldnât afford to become involved to the point where your efficiency and sense of judgement were impaired. And yet, without it, without the pity and the rage, what was the point?
âKeep at it, Martin,â he said.
All available manpower would now be called upon for the murder investigation, but the possibility of letting up on the case which had occupied the time and skills of the department for so long was a non-starter. Mayo was used to handling half a dozen cases at once, as they all were. It was simply a question of who now did what, how much routine work he himself could delegate to his inspector, the mature and unflappable Atkins. He mentally surveyed the rest of his team, most of whose strengths and weaknesses he could gauge to a millimetre.
âSergeant Moon,â he said, âIâll keep Abigail Moon with me for the most part of this one and leave you free to concentrate on Billen. You take Farrar with you today.â
He wasnât displeased with this strategy. He felt it to be an adroit compensating move on his part, killing two birds with one stone, one that would give Abigail the experience she needed â without rubbing Farrarâs nose in it. Of all the team, he was the one who resented the woman detectiveâs presence most, as being about to achieve (without much effort, as he saw it) the promotion which continually escaped him. He wouldnât see why, for instance, he, rather than Abigail Moon, should have been sent with Kite, but tough. Thatâs the way we all had it once, lad.
Abigail, unlike Farrar, was delighted.
Her plans for her future were not going too badly. If only she had as much confidence in her personal life as in her professional one! Although her academic prowess at university hadnât been particularly brilliant, sheâd obtained a respectable degree and she knew, backed up by
After performing this function as soon as he got to the station, Mayo came down from the third floor to find
Kite returned from Pennybridge, waiting for him with the name of someone who could put him in touch with the relatives of the murdered woman so that they could get a positive identification. Her name, he said, was Freeman, Dr Madeleine Freeman.
Kite didnât look as though his own sleep had done him much good; there were pouches under his eyes, but he was full of nervous energy, unable to keep still, and it soon became evident why. He was jubilant with the news that one of his informers had contacted him with a possible lead on the whereabouts of the disappearing witness in the child pornography case. It would mean, he remarked, a drive down to Essex for someone that morning, would mean taking two off the strength just when manpower was needed most. It was a statement made partly in query, partly in hope.
âBetter get off then, hadnât you, Martin? Itâs your case and weâre not letting them slip through the net at this stage.â
Mayo would be glad to see the end of it himself, for more reasons than one. It had been an emotionally slanted affair and a successful outcome would give a fillip to every man and woman on the strength.
Kite could hardly conceal his satisfaction at the hoped-for-reply, but he tried. âCouldnât have come at a worse time, I know, but we canât let up until weâve got these bastards.â
Mayo hoped Kite wasnât letting this one get to him. His normal, cheerful insouciance had been remarkable for its absence since heâd been dealing with this admittedly depressing inquiry. It was understandable â he had two boys of his own and an investigation of this sort was the pits, but Kite was a police officer and the rotten, mucky things of life were his business â heâd better snap out of it if he thought otherwise. You couldnât afford to become involved to the point where your efficiency and sense of judgement were impaired. And yet, without it, without the pity and the rage, what was the point?
âKeep at it, Martin,â he said.
All available manpower would now be called upon for the murder investigation, but the possibility of letting up on the case which had occupied the time and skills of the department for so long was a non-starter. Mayo was used to handling half a dozen cases at once, as they all were. It was simply a question of who now did what, how much routine work he himself could delegate to his inspector, the mature and unflappable Atkins. He mentally surveyed the rest of his team, most of whose strengths and weaknesses he could gauge to a millimetre.
âSergeant Moon,â he said, âIâll keep Abigail Moon with me for the most part of this one and leave you free to concentrate on Billen. You take Farrar with you today.â
He wasnât displeased with this strategy. He felt it to be an adroit compensating move on his part, killing two birds with one stone, one that would give Abigail the experience she needed â without rubbing Farrarâs nose in it. Of all the team, he was the one who resented the woman detectiveâs presence most, as being about to achieve (without much effort, as he saw it) the promotion which continually escaped him. He wouldnât see why, for instance, he, rather than Abigail Moon, should have been sent with Kite, but tough. Thatâs the way we all had it once, lad.
Abigail, unlike Farrar, was delighted.
Her plans for her future were not going too badly. If only she had as much confidence in her personal life as in her professional one! Although her academic prowess at university hadnât been particularly brilliant, sheâd obtained a respectable degree and she knew, backed up by
Similar Books
![The Rogue Hunter's Mate [Paranormal Protection Unit 10] (Siren Publishing Classic)](https://fs.collectorofbookboyfriends.com/557979/thumbs/152x264/the-rogue-hunters-mate-paranormal-protection-unit-10-siren-publishing-classic.png)
