Trophies: a gripping detective thriller (The Wakefield Series Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

gesture of looking at his watch.
    “I’m calling at Lucy’s on the way. I’ve got some notes to copy,” she answered from the hallway.
    “And I want you to clean that room of yours when you get back, young lady,” Laura called after her, “it’s an absolute disgrace.” But it was too late, she’d already gone.
    He just shook his head.
    “Right, I best be off as well.” Laura slipped on her coat and grabbed her bag. She gave her husband a kiss as she passed. “See you tonight sometime. Don’t forget I’ve got the suits from the Local Authority coming in for a meeting at six, so I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”
    “Okay.”
    She turned at the door. “And hey,” she said in mock American accent, imitating the well-known line from Hill Street Blues, “let’s be careful out there.”
    “And don’t forget,” he joined in, “do it to them before they do it to you.”
    The front door closed and he was alone, apart from the radio. The familiar beat of a song took him back to 1979. Nottingham. That was when he had first met Laura. She was at teacher training college while he was studying English at the University. The dance floor in the Student Union was a good hunting ground for him and his mates back then. What was it that had first attracted him? Her waist-length blonde hair? The skin-hugging pink top that displayed her naked midriff? Was it, perhaps, the way she laughed with her friends, her sparkling eyes, so full of life and mischief? No, it was really her gorgeous arse in tight white jeans gyrating with Tina Turner to Nutbush City Limits.
    He finished his coffee and wandered over to the message board on the wall by the back door. All sorts of bits of paper were pinned to it, dental appointment cards, Jasper’s vet record. Catching his attention, a photograph of Amanda with a classmate taken during last summer’s school trip to France.
    He removed the picture and studied it for a few seconds. He could see Laura’s good looks in his daughter. She’d dyed her hair darker as a lot of her friends had done but the shape of her face, the high cheekbones, the smile, yes that was Laura twenty years ago. Her attitude came from him. Fortunately, the genes hadn’t developed the other way round. Amused at this thought, he pinned the photo back on the board, gathered up his things and set off for work.
     

 
     
    5
     
     
    Eileen Waterson stood in the car park and looked up despairingly at the multi-storey tower block. Drizzle had begun to fall. Her young assistant, six months out of school, stood beside her. She wondered how long he would last in the job.
    She locked the car and contemplated the climb to the tenth floor. Hardcastle House was one of a pair of identical drab, grey, multi-storey blocks of flats built in the 1960’s. It would be a miracle if the lifts were working. Even when they were, the stench of urine and other disgusting activities was overpowering.
    Eileen had been an environmental health officer for the council for over ten years. In that time, she’d witnessed some fairly revolting sights. The levels to which some humanity could descend no longer shocked her.
    Environmental Health had taken a phone call from an irate Mrs. Lockwood earlier in the day. No, they hadn’t any note of her previous complaint from yesterday. Yes, it was disgraceful the dozy young girl didn’t listen and, yes, they now had all the details and would send someone round to investigate today.
    When Eileen picked up the note to investigate the complaint of a foul smell at 106 Hardcastle House, she’d checked the Housing Department records for the tenancy of the flat. She didn’t have a good feeling about it. The rent was some eight weeks in arrears. That wasn’t unusual for Hardcastle House but previously on this flat, the rent had always been paid promptly.
    She had developed a keen sense of smell, so when they approached the flat’s door along the open corridor, the reason for the complaint was obvious to