Read Online Blood on the Cowley Road by Peter Tickler - Free Book Online Page B

hands down the front of his shirt, as if he was suddenly aware of its creases. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I can’t say everyone liked him all the time. It’s the nature of the work that you have to draw boundaries, and if people try to cross the boundaries you have to stand up to them, And then, of course, for a while at least, they don’t like you. Jake was quite a gentle man, tried to get on with people, but he didn’t shirk his responsibilities. When he had to be, he could be very unpleasant. I always felt safe when he was around.’
    â€˜Any recent incidents that you can think of? Anyone that he might have upset recently?’
    â€˜I’ve just had two weeks on holiday. So, the answer is no.’
    â€˜OK,’ Holden said with a shrug, as if deciding that there was nothing more to be gained. ‘But if anything occurs to you, when you’ve had time to reflect, do let me know.’
    â€˜Right,’ he said, and then stood up. But he didn’t turn towards the door. A frown emerged from behind his eyes. ‘Perhaps, I should mention one thing. He split up with his boyfriend a few days before I went on holiday. It was fairly acrimonious, I think. Not that I know much about it.’
    â€˜Do you know the boyfriend’s name?’ Holden was leaning forward now, her affected indifference now discarded.
    â€˜Les. Les Whiting, I think. Like the fish.’

    â€˜Boss,’ said Wilson, as soon as Wright had left the room. ‘That ties up with what Jake said.’
    â€˜Explain,’ Holden said tersely.
    â€˜When DS Fox was interviewing him, he asked him about the phone calls that Sarah Johnson had made to his mobile, and he asked how come he kept it turned off so much, and he said – that’s Jake said – that he kept it turned off because he had split from his boyfriend and he, Les, kept hassling him. So it all ties up.’
    â€˜Thank you, Wilson,’ Holden said, and she turned a smile upon her slightly flushed detective constable. ‘A brownie point for you!’
    Â 
    â€˜Jake was in the wrong job.’ Rachel Laing uttered this judgement as soon as she had sat down. ‘Nice guy, but he’d never have lasted.’
    If Holden was surprised by this blunt opening statement, she gave no sign. She was experienced enough to know that death, especially unexpected and violent death, affected people different ways. The morning after her own father had been obliterated in a three-car pile-up on the A34, her mother had gone to work as if nothing abnormal had happened, said nothing to anyone in the office, and only rang her, Susan, to tell her after she’d come home, watched the six o’clock news, and helped herself to a small sherry. Rachel Laing was big boned and broad hipped, wore clothes so nondescript you barely noticed them, and oozed matter-of-factness from the pores of her skin. ‘It’s not a happy-clappy world. The people who come here have pretty shitty lives and problems. Some cope, some don’t. Some survive, some end up dead. Like poor Sarah Johnson. You have to be tough if you’re going to last in this environment, and like I said, Jake just wasn’t cut out for it. Nice guy and all that, but—’
    â€˜A nice dead guy, Ms Laing,’ Holden interrupted, distaste apparent in every syllable she uttered. ‘Just to clarify things, we aren’t here to assess how well Jake Arnold was suited to working in the wonderful world of mental health. We’re here to find out who the hell killed him. So maybe we could stick to that.’
    â€˜So what do you want to know?’ Laing spoke without emotion, as if unaffected by Holden’s outburst, though the ghost of a smile drifted across her face. ‘If I know who the killer is?’
    Laing never received an answer. Even as she was saying ‘who the killer is?’, there came a sound of shouting from beyond the closed