Judgement Call

Judgement Call Read Free Page B

Book: Judgement Call Read Free
Author: Nick Oldham
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money and resources … and by the way, before you appear in public again, get yourself sorted out. You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.’
    After a hasty swill, brush up and tie replacement, Henry walked to the front office of the police station. It was a fairly small room, consisting of a radio console, a telephone switchboard, a teleprinter machine tucked away behind a clear Perspex screen, a narrow public enquiry desk with the foyer beyond, and little else. Not much room to manoeuvre for such an important location – the communications hub for the whole of the Rossendale Valley. It was staffed by a civilian phone/radio operator and a station duty constable who was presently having his refreshment break – refs – in the first-floor dining room. His job was being covered by Jo, the policewoman, whose eyes widened, then narrowed momentarily, as Henry entered.
    â€˜I’ve sat her down in the waiting room,’ she told him.
    Henry eyed her discreetly, a once-over. ‘How did she seem?’
    â€˜The usual.’
    â€˜She’s a regular?’
    â€˜Oh, yeah, seen her a few times … Is it true you flattened Vladimir?’ Her gaze played rather obviously over Henry.
    â€˜Uh, sort of.’
    â€˜He’s the cock of the town, you know?’
    â€˜Doesn’t mean he doesn’t get arrested,’ Henry said brazenly. ‘Maybe he needs locking up more often.’ He grinned at her, sidled past, catching a faint aroma of pleasant perfume on her. At the front desk Henry stood aside to allow the station duty PC to enter the room. He was returning from his refs having visited the staff toilet accessed through the secure doors on the other side of the public foyer. He winked conspiratorially at Henry, folding a
Daily Express
under his arm and refitting his clip-on tie. Henry knew this PC was a bit of a legend and it was one of his horrible habits to leave what he called a ‘baby’s arm’ in the toilet bowl for the benefit – and horror – of the next user who, invariably (as this loo was a shared sex one), would be one of the young ladies from the admin office. Screams of disgust were regularly heard throughout the station in the mornings and had generated frequent memos from the superintendent, most of which ended up defaced and stuck on the toilet wall.
    Henry ducked through the hatch and turned right into the waiting room. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a ferocious red-faced man entering the front door of the station, carrying a dog in his arms. A Jack Russell terrier. Henry recognized the nasty little canine as the one he’d brutally kicked out of the way after it had attacked him whilst chasing Kaminski. The dog saw him, made eye contact, must have recognized him, as it bristled, snarled, baring its teeth, then started yapping. Henry quickly went into the waiting room before the owner jumped to any conclusions.
    Miss Lee had taken a seat on which she perched with her hands clasped between her knees, her head drooping, tears streaming down her battered face. She glanced up as Henry came in, and gently wiped her swollen cheek dry with her fingertips. Henry noted that her nails were long, sharp and painted bright red.
    â€˜How are you feeling?’ He lowered himself onto the chair on the opposite side of the screwed-down table.
    She looked broken-heartedly at him. ‘Is he locked up?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    The news had an instant effect on her. ‘Brilliant.’ She sat upright. She was still wearing the low-cut T-shirt exposing the upper half, or more, of her breasts. They wobbled whitely in a bra that was clearly a tight size too small for the job. Henry saw a tattoo on the right one: ‘VLAD’. It looked home-inflicted. There was also an evil-looking discoloured love bite on the right side of her neck.
    â€˜Will he go on remand?’ she asked hopefully.
    Henry pouted. ‘That

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