NO AGE TO DIE: The release of a dangerous prisoner leads to murder (DCI John Blizzard Book 9) by John Dean (free ebook reader for android .TXT) 📗

in some way or another – by the promises they had made to their faith, by the decisions they had taken, and the lies they had told to themselves and others. Perhaps, he thought, it was time for the truth to come out. Sweep away the lies.

Getting out of the car outside St John’s, he noticed that the television camera crew were still there and gave a slight smile. Noticing his arrival, the cameraman and the reporter walked over to him.

‘Chief Inspector,’ said the reporter as the cameraman began to film. ‘Do you have any comment about what has happened here?’

‘Not at this stage,’ said Blizzard. He kept walking towards the church.

‘But you must have an opinion about the community’s concerns surrounding the hostel, surely?’ she said.

Blizzard stopped walking and turned to face the camera.

‘All I would say,’ he replied, ‘is that there is a case for a review of the decision-making that went into granting the hostel’s approval to operate.’

A cheer went up from the protestors and, ignoring further questions, Blizzard strode into the church, knowing immediately that he had broken Ronald’s rule about venturing into politics. The interview was broadcast twenty-five minutes later during the hourly news bulletin and the call to Blizzard’s mobile came soon after. Within half an hour, he was sitting in Arthur Ronald’s office, watched by an uncomfortable chief superintendent as the detectives were confronted by the furious Chair of the city council’s social services committee.

Blizzard and Rory Gill knew each other well; they had frequently clashed in the past and the councillor viewed the inspector as someone whose views were outdated. Young for the Chair of such an influential committee, Gill was a professional sociologist, university-educated, full of ideas and ambitious; the city council leader was widely expected to step down at the next election and Gill had his eye on the top job. A slim man with a thin face, short brown hair and a neatly trimmed brown beard, he sat in the office in his normal attire of brown cords and jacket with patched elbows, over a black T-shirt with the words ‘judge others as you would wish to be judged yourself’. He had watched the inspector’s television interview with a mixture of anger and delight, infuriated by the comments but immediately recognising in them the chance to rid himself of a persistent thorn in his flesh. The disagreement had long since turned personal for the councillor.

‘I am here to demand,’ he said, ‘that this officer be immediately removed from this inquiry. It is clear that–’

‘It is clear,’ interrupted Ronald, ‘that we need an experienced police officer to deal with a serious situation like this.’

‘Maybe we do.’ Gill pointed at Blizzard. ‘But not this clown, I would suggest.’

‘Chief Inspector Blizzard is a highly competent officer,’ snapped Ronald, ‘and I will thank you not to tell me how to run my inquiries. I don’t tell you how to run social services.’

The moment he had uttered the words, Ronald realised his mistake. Gill’s eyes gleamed and the superintendent tried not to show that he knew that he had slipped up.

‘But he does,’ said the councillor. He gestured at Blizzard. ‘He’s quite happy telling the world how he thinks I should be running social services. Did he not say on national television that we were wrong to let the hostel go ahead, or did my ears deceive me?’

‘Actually,’ said Blizzard. He was speaking for the first time and made little effort to conceal his distaste for the councillor. ‘What I said was that a review was required. I suspect a lot of people would agree with that statement, Councillor.’

‘Yes, but those kinds of decisions are for the experts and not a police officer. From what I hear from Mr Rose-Harvey, you have made no secret of your desire to see the hostel closed down, Chief Inspector. From where I stand, it looks like you have sided with Margaret Hatton and her followers.’

‘Hardly,’ said Blizzard.

‘Perhaps we can agree,’ said Ronald before Gill could reply, ‘that DCI Blizzard’s comments were slightly misguided.’

‘Misguided!’ exclaimed Gill. ‘He directly criticised a council decision! One that I personally recommended.’

‘I was asked an honest question,’ said Blizzard, ‘and I gave an honest answer.’

‘Yes, well I am sure your chief constable will not like that,’ said Gill. ‘He has worked hard to develop a good relationship with the council and things like this do not help.’

Ronald sighed. Mention of the Chief always meant trouble and the ramifications from his uncomfortable experience at the Community Forum had continued to rumble on. Inwardly, Ronald cursed Blizzard for his bullishness, although, if the superintendent were honest with himself, he agreed with his views. Sometimes, Arthur Ronald detested his well-earned reputation as a person who was adept at playing politics. Sometimes, he wished that he could just say exactly what he thought. And if the superintendent was honest with himself, sometimes he was happy that Blizzard said these things. It was one of the many reasons Ronald watched his friend’s back.

‘So is your chief inspector going to apologise?’ asked Gill.

‘I will not apologise for questioning some of the things that have happened at St John’s,’ said Blizzard before Ronald could reply. The inspector thought of Tom Raine lying in his hospital bed as he recovered from concussion, and he thought of Glenda Rutherford on the mortuary slab. And he thought of Jamie Holdsworth and his devastated mother. ‘I can’t do that, nor will I.’

‘However, I am sure that in future he will be more circumspect in his comments to the media,’ said Ronald quickly. He looked hopefully at his friend. ‘Isn’t that right, Chief Inspector?’

Noting his discomfort, Blizzard decided to play the game and nodded.

‘I’ll be more careful,’ he said.

‘But what about an apology?’ demanded Gill.

‘You shouldn’t push your luck,’ said Ronald. He silenced the councillor with