Free Deadly Focus by R. C. Bridgestock Page B

Daisy’s room. Enquiries at Daisy’s school - Harrowfield Middle School. Did she know her attacker? Dylan knew people wanted results, not words. His thought process was disturbed by the telephone ringing, and it made him jump.
    ‘Is that DI Dylan?’ asked the sharp-tongued voice at the other end of the phone. ‘This is Avril Summerfield-Preston, the Divisional Administrator.’
    ‘Yes,’ he replied absent-mindedly. He’d seen Avril flouncing about the upper floors of the station for as long as he could remember, but he didn’t know her or in fact what she did. She sat on her own in a corner at meetings and never offered her opinion, which he’d thought odd for her position. He’d never seen her talking to anyone socially, probably because everyone thought she was arrogant, abrupt and a joke as part of the senior management team. Avril appeared to be a loner and gave the impression she thought she was above everyone else. She was a strange woman. She tried with her appearance, he’d give her that, but even dressing in Chanel wouldn’t have given her style or stature. She was just one of the unfortunates of the world. ‘Beaky’ was her nickname around the station, due to the fact she had an enormous nose. Her ears protruded through mousy, thinning hair that always looked as if it was in need of a good wash. Her overpowering perfume arrived before she did, and Dylan couldn’t decide whether she used it to cover up a rather embarrassing perspiration problem or not.
    ‘My property store is full to capacity because of your murders.’ She broke his reverie, speaking as if Jack Dylan had committed the murders himself. ‘It’s a Health and Safety issue, Inspector, that I want sorting immediately. I don’t want any more exhibits going into the store.’ By this time, he had held the phone away from his ear and promptly hung up. He wasn’t going to be spoken to or dictated to by a jumped up administrator who never went out of her office and had no idea of real police work. The telephone rang, and he’d no doubt it was her trying again, so he ignored it.
    There’d been a rumour about her and Superintendent Walter Hugo-Watkins, he remembered. Allegedly, she’d been seen leaving his office and walking down the corridor to her own office unaware that her dress was tucked in her knickers. He smirked to himself. It takes all sorts, he thought, but what a boring pair they’d make. Then again, perhaps a match made in heaven. He smiled, then shook himself: he’d much more important things to think about. The Hinds wanted to know if they could plan the funerals. It was a fast decision for anyone to make, but then again he knew that everyone dealt with life and death differently and focusing their mind on something positive was a good thing. He spoke to the coroner stating that it may help the Hind family to come to terms, or give some closure to the deaths, if they could be buried as they wished. They had no immediate suspects and so far the enquiries were unyielding.
    The days rolled by, unnoticed due to the pace of work. He worked, he ate, and he slept but not always in that order.
     

 
    Chapter Nine
     
    Dylan opened the door. Max ran to greet him, nearly knocking Jen flying in the narrow hallway.
    ‘Hiya. Someone is pleased to see you,’ she laughed placing a kiss on Jack’s head as he bent to stroke Max. ‘Kettle’s on, you eaten?’ she asked as he followed her into the kitchen.
    Before Jack could reply, his mobile’s shrill tone made him jump. He pressed ‘receive’ and they looked at each other in anticipation.
    ‘Sir, I’ve been called out to a shooting at a flat on the Greenaway Estate. A friend of the occupant couldn’t gain entry and noticed a strange smell. Entry has now been forced and there’s a dead man in there with head injuries and a gun at his side.’
    ‘Are you at the scene?’ Dylan asked. Jen turned away before he could see the disappointment in her eyes. Busily she made him a warm