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

nothing more than a paper exercise, requiring Charley’s signature as head of CID, plus any additional observations to be noted before it was filed.

In her bold, neat handwriting she wrote:

NO FURTHER ACTION REQUIRED.

NO POSITIVE LINES OF ENQUIRY.

PLEASE FILE.

All she needed to do now was sign and date the report, and staple the paper to the file. Thereafter, it would be filed away to gather dust. Charley’s pen hovered over the paper. As she screwed off the lid to her fountain pen and was completing the first swirl of her signature which hadn’t changed over the years, her phone rang, and distracted her.

‘Force Control, boss, sorry to disturb you, but your attendance is being requested at Crownest. Mr Greenwood, the owner has informed us that work has ceased owing to two bodies, one more skeletal than the other apparently, being found entombed in the building.’

Charley’s eyebrows rose. ‘That sounds interesting, show me as attending,’ she said screwing the half-signed report into a ball and deftly binning it in the waste basket by the door. ‘GOAL!’ she declared, with feeling.

Thoughts flashed through her mind, as she picked up her coat. ‘Are the bodies the reason that Crownest was set alight? Are they the remains of the allusive Dixons?’

Chapter 3

‘Detective Constable Glover get y’coat, you’re coming with me,’ Charley shouted from behind her desk, loud enough to be overheard in the outer office where her team worked, despite the chit-chatter.

She scooped up her keys on the way out.

Annie was waiting for the computer programme that she had been working on to close, when she heard the sound of hurried footsteps coming her way. She turned to see Charley’s attention focused solely on her. ‘Today would be good, Glover!’

Sliding her feet into her plimsolls, Annie stumbled to her feet and grabbed her bag, whilst watching her boss’s coat billow out behind her with every step she took towards the exit; the way it snapped in the blast of air when she opened the door appeared to accentuate her urgency, as did her swift disappearance.

DC Wilkie Connor stopped typing. The bandage around his head was the first thing Annie saw as he peered from behind his screen on the desk opposite hers. Just a few months on from the Chronicle journalist Danny Ray’s attempt on his life in a hit and run traffic accident, which rendered the detective on a life support machine, no relapse had occurred. His fingers reached over and whipped a piece of toast from Annie’s plate on her desk. Annie raised an eyebrow, Wilkie grinned waiting for her retort. When she failed to react, he pushed her patience further. ‘Waste not want not! Choppity chop!’

‘Shut it Chrome Dome!’ she snapped as she grabbed the remaining piece of toast off the plate.

Wilkie’s tittering followed her as she darted from the room. As second in command to Charley, Detective Sergeant Mike Blake shook his head at Wilkie. ‘Why do you have to wind her up?’

‘She loves it really,’ Wilkie chuckled, licking the butter off his fingers one at a time.

Mike’s eyes were suddenly glued to his computer screen. ‘Whatever, looks like we might have a job on.’

The remainder of Annie’s breakfast dangled from her teeth, which enabled her to throw on her coat. She dashed along the corridor, rushing down the steps two at a time and at the bottom she slammed her hand on the door pad to release it, before breaking into a run across the backyard in Charley’s wake.

Nearing her car, Charley clicked the keys, and the lock disengaged. She looked up at the dark clouds overhead, then over the car roof towards the noise of the police station’s rear door closing behind Annie, who was hurrying towards her.

‘Where’re we off, ma’am?’ Annie asked breathlessly, tumbling into the passenger seat beside Charley.

‘Crownest.’

Annie, hand still on her seat belt, looked up at Charley somewhat puzzled. ‘You mean they haven’t dropped that yet?’

Charley shook her head, reversed out of her parking spot – a bespoke slot came with the privilege of rank – and tore out through the large metal gates. ‘Nope, and neither is it likely to be abandoned any time soon.’

Annie’s eyes were like saucers. ‘Why, what’s happened?’

‘They’ve found two bodies, human remains.’ Charley glanced across at Annie. ‘You don’t happen to have any experience with bones, do you?’ she asked.

Annie considered the question. ‘I’m partial to a barbecued spare rib, dipped in a chive sauce. Does that count?’

Charley cocked her eyebrow. ‘Not unless you’ve taken up cannibalism it doesn’t. Looks like this is going to be a learning curve for us both.’

‘Plastic skeletons scare the shit out of me. Are you sure these are real?’ Annie said, lunging forward at Charley’s sharp braking, at the temporary roadworks.

With her foot hard on the accelerator, Charley’s car left the others standing behind them at the traffic lights. ‘Better be, or somebody will get a rocket up their arse for calling me out.’

‘The last time I saw a skeleton was on the ghost train at Clacton Pier.’ Annie shuddered, and held tightly onto her seat. ‘Those spiders’ webs! Mind you, I was only fourteen, but I’ve never been on a ghost train since.’

‘It’s only bits of string and wool hanging down from the roof, you idiot!’ said Charley. Her eyes checked her mirrors, the last thing she needed was the traffic cops on her tail.

Sensing Charley’s need to process her thoughts, Annie stayed silent whilst Charley navigated the route through the busy town centre.

Out on the open road, Charley relaxed a little. She caught Annie smiling to herself. ‘Penny for them?’ she said.

‘I was thinking how good it is to have Wilkie back in the office. He’s come a long way in such a short time.’

‘I think maybe the job’s given him something to focus on since the accident. He tells me that he is hopeful the dressing will be off for good later this week. I’m in no doubt he’ll be on full duties before long. He’s a tough