Strike a Match (Book 1): Serious Crimes Read Online Free Page B

“You’ll have to dump your records somewhere else.” He spoke without lowering the newspaper from in front of his face, nor his feet from the one square foot of desk that wasn’t covered in a mountainous stack of folders. His accent was American. Different to Ruth’s mother’s East Coast twang, but similarly tempered from decades of living in Britain. From the stripes on the uniform jacket hanging on the back of his chair, she guessed he was the Sergeant Mitchell to whom her papers told her to report.
    “Cadet Ruth Deering reporting for duty, sir,” she said, snapping to attention.
    “Cadet?” the sergeant growled, dropping a corner of the newspaper just enough for a bloodshot eye to glare at her. “Reporting? What do you mean?”
    “Sir… to Serious Crimes,” she stammered. The eye continued its unwavering stare. Not sure what else to say, she thrust her orders out towards the man. The newspaper was lowered another inch, and now there were two baleful eyes giving her the most searching look she’d ever known. The sergeant folded the paper, slowly running his finger down each crease in turn, before gently placing it on top of a precariously balanced box. In one surprisingly swift movement, his feet came off the desk and his hand came out grabbing her orders.
    “Let me see that,” he said.
    No longer hidden behind the newspaper, and his attention no longer on her, Ruth was finally able to get a proper look at her new commanding officer. He had grey-flecked hair and a frost-pocked face, with a slight paunch around his waist that wasn’t helped by a shirt that looked a size too small. He was around forty, she guessed, and going by the bloodshot eyes and stained uniform, he was still living the lifestyle of a much younger man.
    “Well, that’s Commissioner Wallace’s signature,” the sergeant said. “So, they’ve really sent a cadet to Serious Crimes?”
    Ruth heard the inflection, but wasn’t sure what the actual question was. She was saved having to guess by a voice from behind her.
    “What did you do?” a woman asked.
    Ruth jumped in surprise and received a soft mocking laugh in return. She turned around to see a woman of around thirty, wearing the uniform of a detective constable, standing in the doorway.
    “Do?” Ruth asked. “I’m sorry, I don’t—”
    “The fact you’re here means that you’ve done something wrong,” the sergeant interrupted. “Or you failed to do something wrong when asked. Which is it?”
    “I… I…” Ruth stammered, completely at a loss.
    “Did you cheat on your exams?” the constable asked. “I bet that’s it, but your parents are too important for you to be kicked out.”
    “What? No. I didn’t—” Ruth stopped, remembered who she was, where she was, and to whom she was speaking. “I didn’t cheat,” she said, “and I resent the insinuation.”
    “You do, eh?” the sergeant said. “Then maybe there’s hope for you. I’m DS Mitchell, that’s Detective Constable Riley.” He glanced down at Ruth’s orders once more before handing them back. “Welcome to Serious Crimes.”
    Ruth took the slip of paper and waited for the sergeant to continue. She realised he’d finished.
    “Thank you, sir,” she said. There were no lights on in the small cabin though that wasn’t uncommon. There were no candles either, but since most of the room was full of boxes overflowing with paper, that was probably a blessing. Other than a few desks and chairs, and a row of cupboards against the far wall, the room was empty. There was no crime board, no sketches of suspects, no indication of any police work at all. If anything, the cabin looked like a dumping ground for forgotten files. “What is it that… I mean, what does Serious Crimes… um…” The sergeant gave her another look, shook his head, and picked up his paper. Ruth guessed that she’d failed some unknown test.
    “You want to know what Serious Crimes does?” he asked. “Well, so do we.” With a