Unlikely Graves (Detective Inspector Paul Amos Mystery series) by Rodney Hobson
Authors: Rodney Hobson
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vehemently.
Amos showed her a photograph of the victim, deftly evading Mrs Johnson’s outstretched hand trying to intercept it.
‘Do you recognize this man?’
Emma glanced nervously at her mother and said ‘no’ without looking at the picture.
‘Please take a good look at it, Emma,’ Amos said gently but firmly.
‘She said no,’ her mother intervened, taking the photograph from her daughter’s hand. ‘This is him, Randall, isn’t it?’ she asked. ‘I saw the picture on the local TV news. She’s already said she doesn’t know him.’
Amos doubted very much if any picture of Randall had been shown. The police had not released one. In fact, it occurred to the inspector, he could not recall seeing any photographs on display in Randall’s house. This one had been out of sight in a drawer, perhaps forgotten.
Amos retrieved the picture and to Mrs Johnson’s undisguised annoyance handed the photograph once more to the reluctant daughter.
‘Please look at it properly, Emma, and tell me if you recognize this man,’ Amos insisted.
This time Emma looked at the photograph without much enthusiasm and shook her head.
‘No,’ she said simply. ‘I don’t recognize him.’
‘I think that’s enough,’ Mrs Johnson told Amos. ‘I think we have tolerated this intrusion long enough. Emma doesn’t know him and why should she? Neither do I. So if that’s all you came to ask, I’ll show you out.’
The third house looked superficially more promising when it transpired that this time the daughter but not the mother was at home. Amos was, however, soon disabused of any optimism that he might have felt.
The girl was panic stricken. Despite pushing the issue as far as he felt he could, all Amos could elicit was a flustered, stammering denial of everything he asked.
Amos and Marie eventually abandoned the pointless interview as the girl looked wildly at the clock ticking away on the mantelpiece, no doubt counting down the minutes to the appearance of one parent or the other, Amos thought.
He and Marie made their way to the café that the team had agreed would be the meeting place at which they could compare notes. Juliet Swift was not there. After 15 minutes of waiting and stretching out the consumption of a coffee and iced bun as long as was seemly, they saw Juliet with her sidekick Detective Constable Michael Yates appear through the door.
‘Sorry, sir,’ she said as she collapsed into one of the wooden chairs with yellow plastic seats, ‘we got nowhere.’
Amos handed over a fiver to Yates.
‘Get a coffee and a bun for both of you and relax,’ he told the constable. ‘You’ve done no worse than we did.’
Chapter 14
DC Swift filled Amos in while DC Michael Yates was at the counter. There were no other customers in the café so there was no danger of letting incriminating information into the public domain.
‘First house, mother but no daughter. We asked her if she knew Randall just in case and showed her a photograph but she said she didn’t know him. I think she genuinely didn’t because she didn’t realize at first that he was the murder victim who had been splashed across Look North. It was only when she insisted on knowing what the inquiry was all about that she flipped her lid. Daughter’s at uni taking a master’s degree and doing very well, even allowing for parental exaggeration. She’s at University College London.Anyway, when I told her it was a murder inquiry that was it.
‘The second house we did was even worse. We saw a young woman of about the right age through a downstairs window as we approached but she stepped back when she spotted us. We must look like police or perhaps she’d heard about Randall and was taking no chances. We rang the bell and hammered at the door but got no response. I looked in the front downstairs window and Michael was able to get round the back but there was no sign of life. Finally we had to give up but whe n I glanced back I could
Amos showed her a photograph of the victim, deftly evading Mrs Johnson’s outstretched hand trying to intercept it.
‘Do you recognize this man?’
Emma glanced nervously at her mother and said ‘no’ without looking at the picture.
‘Please take a good look at it, Emma,’ Amos said gently but firmly.
‘She said no,’ her mother intervened, taking the photograph from her daughter’s hand. ‘This is him, Randall, isn’t it?’ she asked. ‘I saw the picture on the local TV news. She’s already said she doesn’t know him.’
Amos doubted very much if any picture of Randall had been shown. The police had not released one. In fact, it occurred to the inspector, he could not recall seeing any photographs on display in Randall’s house. This one had been out of sight in a drawer, perhaps forgotten.
Amos retrieved the picture and to Mrs Johnson’s undisguised annoyance handed the photograph once more to the reluctant daughter.
‘Please look at it properly, Emma, and tell me if you recognize this man,’ Amos insisted.
This time Emma looked at the photograph without much enthusiasm and shook her head.
‘No,’ she said simply. ‘I don’t recognize him.’
‘I think that’s enough,’ Mrs Johnson told Amos. ‘I think we have tolerated this intrusion long enough. Emma doesn’t know him and why should she? Neither do I. So if that’s all you came to ask, I’ll show you out.’
The third house looked superficially more promising when it transpired that this time the daughter but not the mother was at home. Amos was, however, soon disabused of any optimism that he might have felt.
The girl was panic stricken. Despite pushing the issue as far as he felt he could, all Amos could elicit was a flustered, stammering denial of everything he asked.
Amos and Marie eventually abandoned the pointless interview as the girl looked wildly at the clock ticking away on the mantelpiece, no doubt counting down the minutes to the appearance of one parent or the other, Amos thought.
He and Marie made their way to the café that the team had agreed would be the meeting place at which they could compare notes. Juliet Swift was not there. After 15 minutes of waiting and stretching out the consumption of a coffee and iced bun as long as was seemly, they saw Juliet with her sidekick Detective Constable Michael Yates appear through the door.
‘Sorry, sir,’ she said as she collapsed into one of the wooden chairs with yellow plastic seats, ‘we got nowhere.’
Amos handed over a fiver to Yates.
‘Get a coffee and a bun for both of you and relax,’ he told the constable. ‘You’ve done no worse than we did.’
Chapter 14
DC Swift filled Amos in while DC Michael Yates was at the counter. There were no other customers in the café so there was no danger of letting incriminating information into the public domain.
‘First house, mother but no daughter. We asked her if she knew Randall just in case and showed her a photograph but she said she didn’t know him. I think she genuinely didn’t because she didn’t realize at first that he was the murder victim who had been splashed across Look North. It was only when she insisted on knowing what the inquiry was all about that she flipped her lid. Daughter’s at uni taking a master’s degree and doing very well, even allowing for parental exaggeration. She’s at University College London.Anyway, when I told her it was a murder inquiry that was it.
‘The second house we did was even worse. We saw a young woman of about the right age through a downstairs window as we approached but she stepped back when she spotted us. We must look like police or perhaps she’d heard about Randall and was taking no chances. We rang the bell and hammered at the door but got no response. I looked in the front downstairs window and Michael was able to get round the back but there was no sign of life. Finally we had to give up but whe n I glanced back I could
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