The Murder Wall Read Online Free PDF Page A

green and rust she’d bought on holiday years back. She
circled the drawing room, turning off lamps left burning from the previous night. She opened the curtains, replaced an abandoned decanter on the sideboard and lifted a half-full tumbler of whisky
from the floor beside the sofa.
    By the time she re-entered the hall it was empty.
    In the kitchen, Jo put on the kettle and sat down waiting for it to boil. It was a good-sized room with a four-oven Aga, a table large enough to seat eight, and all manner of paraphernalia
she’d accumulated over time. If she was honest with herself, the house was far too big for her needs since her sons had left home. She’d seriously considered downsizing but somehow
never managed to gather enough enthusiasm to pack up her stuff and move on. What would be the point? She didn’t need the money and could do without the hassle. Besides, the neighbours
were nice. She felt safe here. It was a proper home, providing a haven from the outside world at the end of a shitty day at the office. Once that solid front door was locked, nothing could touch
her.
    Jo skipped breakfast altogether. In the hallway, she slipped her feet into sensible court shoes, then instinctively reached up for her brown woollen overcoat. Finding it missing brought her
nightmare flooding back. She found it on the back of the sofa where she’d dumped it the night before and carried it to the cupboard under the stairs. Reaching inside, she drew out a roll of
black plastic bags, tore one off and placed the coat carefully inside. Then she gulped down a last mouthful of coffee, drew the telephone towards her and keyed a number.
    It had to be done . . .
    ‘This is Criminal Profiler, Jo Soulsby. Please put me through to DCI Daniels.’

5
    T here was frantic activity in the incident room. Telephones rang, computer screens danced, and there was a constant hum of voices as Gormley wandered in from Daniels’
office. He found her standing beside a table resembling a paper mountain, supervising the arrival of several important documents: action forms, forensic submission forms, house-to-house
questionnaires, various maps of the area. What wouldn’t fit neatly on the table was being unceremoniously dumped on the floor.
    Gormley put his hand to his ear as if holding a telephone. ‘Jo, line one,’ he said.
    Daniels sighed. ‘Later, I’m about to start the briefing.’
    ‘Finally!’ Bright was getting impatient.
    Daniels had almost forgotten he was sitting there waiting for proceedings to get underway. She was keen to move on too, hoping he’d go back to his own enquiry and leave her be. As she
called for order in the room, her squad paid attention. DC Carmichael was the last to put her own phone down, a worried look on her face.
    ‘Boss?’ she said. ‘There’s something you need to know.’
    ‘Yes, Lisa.’ Daniels pointed at the TV. ‘After we’ve watched the DVD.’
    Carmichael leapt from her seat, switching the TV on and the lights off before handing Daniels the remote. As the screen came to life, the mood in the room changed. Excited anticipation gave way
to calm professionalism as the murder investigation team watched the short transmission. Daniels studied their faces while they took in the crime scene for the first time: not just the blood and
gore, but the classy flat, Stephens’ expensive clothes and valuable jewellery, his untouched wallet.
    The television screen went blank. Carmichael switched it off again and turned the lights back on. Daniels thanked her and pointed to the victim’s photograph on the murder wall.
    ‘Nominal One is Alan Stephens,’ Daniels said. ‘What else do we know?’
    ‘You’re not going to like it,’ Carmichael said uncomfortably.
    ‘Something bothering you, Lisa?’ Bright said.
    ‘Stephens’ ex and the mother of his children is someone we all know personally.’
    ‘Does she have a name?’ Bright pushed.
    ‘It’s Jo . . . Soulsby.’
    Bright laughed. ‘Yeah, now