Murder in Mind Read Online Free Page A

away, their departure confirming Sophie's demise.
    In due course, someone produced wire-cutters and made an opening in the fence beside the bridge, whilst another began rigging up lighting to illuminate the scene.
    A passing car slowed to view the spectacle, the driver winding down his window to call a query, only to be moved on by an officer who then took up traffic duty.
    Cocooned in the police car, with the multiple flashing lights having an almost hypnotic effect, Matt had a strange sensation of detachment, as if he were watching it all on TV.
    The female officer returned, sliding into the driver's seat with an accompanying rush of cold air and an apology for keeping him waiting. She introduced herself as WPC Deane and, producing a clipboard with a form attached, told him that she needed to ask him a few questions. She was about his own age – in her mid to late twenties, Matt judged by the soft glow of the car's inside light – her face boyish and her dark hair cut in short layers beneath the peaked cap. She ran through the basics of who he was, where he lived, and how he had come to be there, and then, under her sympathetic but thorough probing, he was obliged to relate the story of Jamie's row with Sophie. He felt like a traitor, but knew they would have the story soon enough, whatever he did or didn't say, and he had no wish to bring down any suspicion on his own head.
    The paramedic reappeared fairly quickly, and Deane excused herself to go and speak to him, but, on her return – to Matt's frustration – she refused to divulge any information as to the probable manner or cause of Sophie's death.
    Outside the vehicle, much urgent communication was carried out over radios and, as WPC Deane made notes on the form, Matt saw two more cars arrive, pause while their occupants spoke to officers already at the scene, and then race on in the direction of the club. He supposed they had been despatched to begin questioning the partygoers, and imagined the consternation that would break out as news of Sophie's death filtered through. The racing world would be humming with it for days to come.
    Moments later an unmarked BMW saloon arrived bearing a large man in civilian clothes, and it was immediately evident to Matt that the newcomer was significant. All heads turned his way and one or two of the officers hurried to meet him. The man looked up at the sky, reached into his car, and took out a mackintosh, which he put on whilst walking towards the taped-off area around the bridge. An instant later, Matt heard the first patter of rain on the roof of the car.
    After a few minutes, presumably briefed on the situation, the big man turned and came towards the vehicle that Matt occupied.
    WPC Deane stepped out of the car to meet him and, after they had exchanged a few words, during which Matt heard Jamie's name mentioned, the plain-clothed man bent down and his heavy-featured face appeared in the open doorway.
    'Mr Shepherd, I'm Detective Inspector Bartholomew of Charlborough CID. Can you tell me where Jamie Mullin is now?'
    Matt shook his head.
    'No, I'm sorry. I haven't seen him since he left the club. I was looking for him when I found Sophie.'
    'And he hasn't been in contact by mobile phone?'
    'No.'
    'Have you tried to contact him?'
    'Yes, but there's no answer.'
    'May I have a look at your mobile phone, please?'
    Silently, Matt reached into a pocket and handed it over.
    'Thank you.' The DI dropped it into an evidence bag held open by another officer. 'Do you have any idea where he might have gone?'
    Matt shook his head again.
    'Sorry.'
    'I understand that Mr Mullin lodges with you. Is there anyone at home now?'
    'The dogs. And my fiancée might be back by now. Why?'
    'We'll need to take a look round.'
    'What for?' Matt bridled at the thought of people – albeit police officers – rummaging through the contents of his home. 'Sophie's never been there.'
    'Nevertheless, I'm afraid it has to be done. If Jamie hasn't been back there