Ultimate Dilemma (Justice Again Book 2) by M Comley (poetry books to read .txt) 📗

such hatred to turn on her father after all this time, right?”

“Yep, you’re not wrong. How the hell I’m supposed to work out what that trigger is, well, I fear it’s beyond me. During the conversations we’ve had, she’s not been as forthcoming as I would’ve preferred.”

“What about relatives, can’t you ask them?”

“There’s only her sister, and she’s up in Scotland.” Katy chewed her lip and then clicked her thumb and finger together. “Her sister suggested that her father might have abused her. She left home at the age of sixteen, but Nadia chose to stay in the family home with her dad.”

“Why? Did he abuse both girls or just one?”

Katy was enjoying this back and forth with Patti, who wasn’t usually one for getting involved in the investigation side of things.

“I suppose I need to ask the right questions and see what trees I shake to get the answers.”

“What about the mother?”

“Ah, yes, she died when the girls were both very young, three and four.”

“Ouch, so he brought them up by himself? Not every father would do that, he was to be admired.”

“I’m unsure about that. Maybe if he did abuse the kids, he didn’t want the likes of anyone else hanging around. It’s all supposition until the true facts emerge. Maybe I need to call her in for an interview at the station.”

“That’ll shit her up appropriately. Failing that, do as I suggested and put a tail on her for now. We’ll hurry the PM and tests through for you on this and the other murders.”

“Thanks, Patti, you’re a goodun. I don’t care what other officers say about you.”

Patti slapped her arm. “Now, if you’re finished, I’m going to tell you to piss off and let me get this man prepared for his journey to the mortuary.”

“Speak soon, once you have the results back.” Katy left the scene and removed her suit, dumping it in the awaiting black bag close to the cordon.

The drive to the station was performed on autopilot as Katy summarised things in her mind. Patti was spot on, it was imperative they put Nadia under surveillance, immediately. Her first job would be to arrange that then sort out a next of kin to break the news about Robin Hewitt. The clock on the dashboard said it was now nearing seven-thirty. Her stomach grumbled. She made a quick detour and drew up outside the café around the corner from the station. “A bacon roll to go, thanks.”

The chubby woman behind the counter smiled and took the money from her. “No drink, love?”

“No, I’ll get one at work.”

“Very well. It’ll be five minutes or so if you want to take a seat.”

“Okay.” Katy picked up a Daily Mail from the nearest table. She sat and whizzed through it, pausing to read the odd article of interest. The investigation into Bruce Crawford’s death took up half a column on page fifteen. There was no blaming the police, and the fact that the paper had given the number for the station pleased her.

“Here you go, love. It’s all ready for you. Help yourself to any sauce you might want.”

“I’ll take a sachet of ketchup and be on my way. I’m looking forward to this. See you again soon.”

“Take care. Enjoy.”

Katy slipped behind the steering wheel and pondered whether to eat the roll there and then but decided to continue on to the station instead.

She met up with Charlie in the car park.

“Hey, I’m going to tell AJ. What’s up, isn’t he feeding you enough?” Charlie laughed and pointed at the greasy paper bag Katy was holding.

“Ssh…actually, I’ve been at work for a while. Patti required my attendance at a murder scene, so I had to skip breakfast. For your cheek, you can buy your boss a cup of coffee.”

“Ouch! Sorry you got called out, you should have given me a shout.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s fine, no point in both of us walking around like the half-dead all day.”

“Why you? Does Patti suspect the cases are connected?”

“Yep, so do I. You’re never going to believe this…no, it can wait until the others arrive. My bacon roll, on the other hand, can’t.”

After bidding the grinning Mick a cheery good morning, they ascended the stairs to the incident room. They were the first to arrive. Charlie bought two cups of the Met’s finest Colombian coffee—well, maybe that was stretching the truth a little too much.

“Come on, don’t keep me dangling,” Charlie said, handing her a cup of steaming coffee.

“All right. Take a seat. If you don’t mind me speaking while I eat, I’ll tell you. I’m glad it wasn’t too gruesome. Saying that, it was bad enough.”

“Go on,” Charlie encouraged. She blew on her drink and then took a sip.

She went over the case and her thoughts as, one by one, the team arrived to join in the conversation.

“Did I hear right, you’ve been at another murder scene this morning, boss?” Patrick asked.

“You did. Thought I’d treat myself to a bacon roll as a reward.” She half-grinned. “Seriously, we’re going to need to start putting our heads together, thinking outside the box on this one, because up here,” she tapped her temple, “none of this is making any bloody sense to me at all.”

“We’re doing our best with the clues we’ve been given,” Karen replied. She seemed downbeat, as if all the fight in her had dissipated overnight.

“I know, that’s the frustrating part, Karen. Listen up, I’m not blaming you guys, I’m just saying we’re going to need to be clever about our thinking, see where that leads us.”

Karen and the others present nodded. Katy glanced up at the clock. It was almost nine, and they were only waiting on Graham to arrive. It was unusual for him to be late.

He burst through the door with a minute to spare. “Shit! Sorry, boss, I had a flat tyre.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re here now, get yourself a coffee and join us. We’re discussing yet another murder that’s been added to the investigation, Graham.”

“Holy