Condemned, R.C. Bridgestock [most romantic novels TXT] 📗

in your way to call on them and let them know that the Dixon’s images are going to be circulated again for elimination purposes, in connection with the recent murders at Crownest. I don’t want it to come as a shock for them to see the media coverage ramped up all of a sudden. If you’ll do that, then I’ll speak to Connie at the Press Office tomorrow; she’s on days according to the rota. It’ll be the evening crew on now. Only time will tell if the media can bring them to us.’

Chapter 23

‘Those two might have more service in than you and me, but God they need a rocket up their arse,’ Charley said to Mike about Ben and Terry, as she watched them leave the CID office in a sloth-like fashion. The SIO stood in the CID office with her hand on the back of Ricky-Lee’s chair.

‘You can’t deny they managed to lift a few good collars in their day,’ said Mike. ‘They just need a bit of motivation and strong leadership.’

‘Talking of which, where is he now?’ Charley said.

Mike looked shifty. ‘Ricky-Lee?’

Charley viewed Mike through suspicious eyes. ‘I know that look, DS Blake. You can’t pull the wool over my eyes.’ She raised an eyebrow at his silence, and cocked her head. ‘Well?’

Mike blushed, and as he did so he gave a little grimace. ‘He’s in the building somewhere. Or at least he was ten minutes ago,’ he said.

Charley eyes were wide. ‘How’d you know that?’

‘I saw him through the window of your office when he came in. When he clocked Ben and Terry with us, he was out of the door like a cat on hot bricks.’

‘You think there is still something going on there?’

Mike shrugged his shoulders. ‘He promised me he’d stopped gambling.’

‘Me too. You believe him?’

Again, Mike shrugged his shoulders.

‘Well, I don’t!’ Charley scowled. ‘You know something, don’t you? What is it that you’re not telling me?’

Mike put his hands up. ‘I know nothing!’ he said in a bad French accent.

An involuntary groan escaped Charley’s lips. ‘Hmm, why don’t I believe you?’ Raising her eyes to the ceiling, she shooed him away with the wave of her hand. ‘Go have a word with the surveillance team, and see what their diary is like for the next month or so, just in case we get a result on the whereabouts of the Dixons.’

Head down, Mike silently turned on his heels.

‘Oh, and find knob-head will you, and let him know they’re gone, and that I want to see him, pronto!’

At that very moment, Annie staggered into the CID office carrying a large cardboard box. Wilkie followed behind and held the door open for Mike. They nodded amiably to each other.

‘You haven’t seen Ricky-Lee on your travels, have you?’ Mike said.

Wilkie shook his head. The SIO thought she saw a look of concern on his face before he turned, and spoke to Mike in a hushed tone.

Charley rushed to help Annie to put the heavy container down on the nearest surface to the door. Out of breath from exertion, once the box was safe, Annie linked her fingers at the end of stretched arms and cracked the bones in her hand to relieve the pain. Her face was illuminated with enthusiasm. ‘Lily insisted we take them,’ said Annie apologetically.

Wilkie’s face showed he was feeling cynical. ‘I am in no doubt that that lot of old paperwork will be about as useful as a glass hammer!’

‘You don’t know that,’ said Annie, crossly, pulling her fingers so they clicked, one at a time.

‘I do, and can you stop doing that?’ he said wiping his hand over the leather bindings. ‘They’re clean, and dust free. Did you see a dust-free surface in her place?’

Annie scowled at her colleague.

With adrenalin rising, Charley ushered the fractious pair towards her office.

Wilkie sat opposite Charley, pointing sideways at Annie. ‘I thought she could natter, but bloody hell, that Pritchard woman, she could talk the hind legs off a donkey!’ Slowly he rose with a groan from the chair. ‘Excuse me, I’ll have to go for a leak.’

‘Don’t forget to wash your hands, and bring us back a drink will you?’ Annie shouted after the retreating detective. An arm appeared behind his back and he showed her his middle finger. She smiled, slowly shaking her head, but her smile quickly turned into a frown when she looked at Charley. ‘We haven’t had a thing to eat or drink all day,’ she said, nodding towards the paper carrier bag next to Wilkie’s chair that held food from the bakery.

Charley frowned. ‘That’s not very hospitable of Ms Pritchard not to offer you a drink,’ she said.

‘Oh, no, it wasn’t that. She offered us hot drinks, cold drinks, wine and God knows what else from those bottles on the shelf, while she drank that blood-red wine which she had a liking for the last time we were there, but…’ Annie retched, ‘you should have seen the inside of her mugs, and the dirt and grease on the glasses.’

‘Had she got her electricity fixed?’

‘Yes, thank goodness. There were no bare wires hanging from the plug on the kettle this visit.’

Annie seemed eager to share the news they brought from St Anne’s Church. Wilkie Connor was only too pleased to let her talk, whilst he tucked into a sandwich stacked high with chicken and salad filling. Mayonnaise dripped onto his shirt, and he wiped it away with a quick flick of a licked fingertip.

‘According to Lily, it depended on the priest at the time as to what records were kept at the church. All churches, including Roman Catholic churches keep their own records, though apparently very few found their way into the National Archives in 1837 and 1857 when the Registrar General called in the non-parochial registers as part of the process of establishing the new system of civil registration.’ Annie snapped open her notebook. ‘Let me give you some facts that Lily shared with me that might