Richard Jury Mysteries 10: The Old Silent Read Online Free PDF Page A

the commissioner last
year. You surely didn't tell me to file—"
    "Take those papers and your jeweled talons" (Fiona was deeply into
nail art) "out of here. And see if that cat's roaming the halls and
walking across the forensics lab tables.
Do you hear me
?"
    With the weight of the papers, she still managed an indifferent
shrug. "Well, I still say anyone that's not had sick leave in fifteen
years deserves more consideration." Turning to go, she added, "I'll
just take these to the shredder." Fiona exited to the tiny tinkle of
glass on glass.
    Wiggins was still holding a copy of
Time Out
in one hand
and with the other pouring a dollop of vinegar into a glass of water to
which he then added a spoonful of honey.
    Jury just shook his head. That Wiggins had got to the point where he
could measure his medications without even looking up from his reading
was proof of a practiced hand indeed. "I'm not talking Fisherman's
Friends and charcoal biscuits, I'm talking
sick
, Wiggins."
Jury was yanking open the drawer of a filing cabinet. "The real thing,
official sickdom, sicko, down-for-the-count." Jury took one of the
forms from the drawer on his sergeant's desk. "Something only a week or
two in the country can fix. The damned things have enough copies, don't
they?" Jury fingered the multicolored form.
    Wiggins stopped tapping his honeyed spoon against the glass and
looked from
Time Out
to the form to Jury, frowning. "I don't
understand, sir."
    "Two weeks off, flat on my back. More or less." Jury scratched his
head over the wording of a question.
When was this illness first
evidenced
? He felt like answering,
My first meeting with
Chief Superintendent A. E. Racer. . .
. He glanced over at
Wiggins's desk. The sergeant was slightly pale. It was, Jury supposed,
one thing to be medicating oneself for a sore throat with honey and
vinegar while still at one's desk; it was quite another to have illness
stamped with the imprimatur of officialdom.
    Jury scratched away, half-conscious of the sergeant's rather ragged
breathing. Practicing for the doctor himself, perhaps? He looked up;
Wiggins was looking at Jury sadly. Across the corner of the
entertainment magazine he held was a banner saying,
The Last Wind
Blows
. Whatever that meant. The cover showed the face of a young
man, head thrown back, eyes closed, mouth open. Round his neck was a
strap holding a sleek white guitar. Across the picture of the guitarist
was written
SIROCCO
, the white cursive letters streaming
across the cover as if wind were blowing the letters away. "I need a
different climate. Warm. Sand, sea, warm breezes."
    Wiggins said, "My doctor suggested just that a while back. A year or
two ago."
    Jury smiled at the fact that now Wiggins sounded somewhat envious. "
What
are you putting down, sir? Not that you don't need time off—"
    Jury nodded toward the magazine. "Or Time Out. Nervous collapse,
how about that? He certainly looks as if he might have one."
    Wiggins flipped the magazine over, looked at the cover, said, "Well,
apparently he thinks he is. 'The Last Wind Blows.' It's his last
concert."
    "Whose?" Jury looked up. Where had he seen the face?
    "Charlie Raine's. He's lead guitarist for this rock group, Sirocco.
Surely you've heard of them."
    That was it. Posters tacked up around London. "Last
concert
?
God, he looks like he just started his last form in public school."
    "A shame, isn't it?"
    Jury penned in another answer to another inane question. "A
publicity stunt, more likely."
    "I don't know, sir. Actually, when you think of it, success is
pretty hard on a person."
    Putting aside his pen, Jury said, "We should know."
    "What sea and what sands are you going to?" His smile was like the
last tiny sliver of waning moon.
    "Yorkshire."
    The magazine fell to the desk; the pen dropped. They had been across
the North Yorkshire moors years ago. It was not the high point in
Sergeant Wiggins's career.
    "
West
Yorkshire, Wiggins. Wanner."
    Wiggins gave him a sickly smile.
    Jury