Free Murder of a Dead Man by Katherine John

off Anna’s desk and paced to the window. ‘You think this Tony was wearing Anthony George’s face?’
    ‘It’s an interesting theory, and one the team holding the open file on the George face-theft case are considering,’ Dan said.
    ‘Science fiction,’ Peter scoffed.
    ‘Science fact, once articles like these are published. You can bet your last pound that before publication there’d been one or two cases where the technique had been tried and tested. Right, early start tomorrow.’ Dan looked to Trevor. ‘First thing in the morning you and I will visit Patrick to see if he’s come up with anything new on our victim, and also run this,’ he held up the report, ‘by him. Then we go to the police laboratory. Peter, you and Anna drive to Crawley Woods and interview as many of these informants as you can and, if you have time, check with the hospital Anthony George died in.’
    ‘After two years, what do you expect us to find?’ Peter asked.
    ‘You might be Drug Squad, but you’re experienced enough to know it when you see it.’
    ‘I thought I’d been drafted in to check out Tony’s drug pushing activities,’ Peter didn’t expect an answer to his complaint.
    ‘Will this warrant an overnight?’ Anna asked.
    ‘If you’ve leads to follow. Best pack a bag.’
    ‘Goody.’
    ‘This is work.’ Dan looked sternly from Anna to Peter.
    ‘I can’t speak for Anna but my intentions are strictly honourable,’ Peter protested. ‘Besides, by the time the force has finished with me I’m only good for sleeping.’
    ‘All sleeping time cancelled until this case is solved. Pick you up at eight tomorrow, Trevor?’
    ‘No one rang in from Jubilee Street?’ Trevor abandoned what was left of his coffee on the windowsill.
    ‘No one has a living room down there, let alone a television,’ Peter reminded.
    ‘There’s one last job you can do today, Trevor.
    Call on the retired policeman, Inspector Edwards.
    He lives on the marina, just across the road from your place.’
    ‘It’s midnight.’
    ‘He’s an ex-copper, he knows the score, he’s expecting you.’
    ‘Serves you right for leaving me to hold the fort all alone,’ Peter grinned.
    ‘Peter, you and Anna come with me to Jubilee Street. We’ll take a hostel each and interview the inmates who weren’t there last night.’
    ‘You weren’t joking about cancelling sleeping time were you, Inspector?’
    ‘The one thing you’ll learn, Anna, is that there are no jokes on Serious Crimes except the ones played by the punters on us.’ Dan shooed them out of the door.
     
    Inspector Edwards lived on the third floor of a luxury block of flats facing the open sea. It was a five minute walk from Trevor’s house, and he was tempted to see Lyn first. Then he remembered Dan.
    The Inspector knew where he was going. If anything cropped up he was quite capable of phoning him and if he hadn’t spoken to Inspector Edwards there’d be hell to pay.
    Turning the wheel left instead of right, he pulled up in the “Residents Only” parking bay of Grenville Court and cut his engine. He stepped out of his car, locked it and looked at the sea, and the renovated Victorian terrace that fronted it. His house was the third in the row. All the windows were shrouded in darkness. There was no point in rushing the interview. Lyn was in bed.
    Pocketing his keys, he walked up to the foyer.
    The night porter had locked the internal doors, but he could see him, peaked cap pushed to the back of his head, sitting behind a desk reading the Sun . He pressed the buzzer. Without bothering to use the intercom, the porter rose from his chair and unlocked the door.
    ‘Sergeant Joseph?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Mr Edwards is expecting you. Third floor, apartment seven.’
    Trevor took the stairs. Six months ago he hadn’t been able to take a step unaided. He’d only discarded his walking stick three weeks ago, and he still missed it. Multiple fractures of the legs didn’t heal easily, but exercise