Scarred for Life Read Free Page B

club, alongside a large photograph of Damon Potter in his rowing uniform. He had a physique much like Holden’s the night before – tall and lean but with strong shoulders. His dark hair was cut short, determined brown eyes staring out into the room atop a chiselled jawline.
    ‘Okay, so we have an official ID on the body of Damon Potter from last night,’ Jessica said. ‘We should have cause of death back later but there were no obvious bruises on his body and no signs he was attacked. Regardless, he didn’t just fall into the bin – so someone knows what happened to him. I’ve got things to do today, so I want you lot doing the digging here. Who does he hang around with? Does he have a girlfriend or boyfriend? Where does he live? Who are his family? Is he a cat or dog person? All that sort of stuff. The night boys have started but nothing was open.’ Jessica nodded towards DS Louise Cornish, a middle-aged, slightly frumpy woman who was staring past her towards the board. ‘Louise will sort things at this end. Damon was a member of the rowing club, so I want details on that too – who are the main people involved? What do they get up to when they’re not dinghy-racing, or whatever it is they do? Those of you with Iz already know what you’re doing; those on bin duty are already on site – everyone else with Louise.’
    Chairs scraped and tea was slurped as the assembled officers slowly started to move. Jessica nodded at Acting Detective Sergeant Izzy Diamond, indicating an unoccupied desk near the front of the room.
    Izzy looked tired, blinking rapidly and pushing a loose strand of long brown hair behind her ear. ‘I know what you’re doing,’ she said, peering at Jessica, eyebrows raised.
    Jessica tried to sound as if she didn’t know what her friend was talking about. ‘What?’
    Izzy’s half-laugh wasn’t convincing. ‘You should’ve pulled my people to investigate your body in the bin.’
    ‘We’ve got enough officers.’
    Izzy shook her head, not complaining. Jessica slid a photo out from under the keyboard on the desk. It was a still frame taken from a CCTV camera at an off-licence, showing a balaclava-wearing man pointing a serrated-edged knife in the direction of a cashier.
    ‘Any luck with the tattoo?’ Jessica asked, pointing at the complex shapes on the robber’s bare wrist.
    Izzy shook her head. ‘That picture from Monday is the clearest. The marks are distinctive but we’ve not had anyone coming forward to say they know someone with tattoos like that. We’ve been around the city’s tattoo places and identified them as some sort of African tribal patterns but if our guy got it done in Manchester then no one’s saying anything.’
    Four off-licences robbed after dark around the city, thousands of pounds taken, with the only clue being the tattoo. Jessica stared at the figure again. Not particularly fat or thin, dark short-sleeved top, jeans from George at Asda, size nine or ten workman’s boots, balaclava covering his face. It wasn’t an original outfit but it did the job.
    Izzy had recently been promoted from constable to sergeant on a temporary six-month basis. This was the first proper case she had been assigned. Jessica knew the fact she hadn’t solved it quickly was annoying her.
    ‘How’s Amber?’ Jessica asked, referring to the sergeant’s young daughter.
    ‘Growing,’ Izzy replied, not wanting the subject to be changed and lowering her voice to a whisper. ‘I really need to get the job permanently. Mal’s had his hours cut and the extra money . . .’
    ‘They’re not going to deny you that because there’s some tattoo we’ve not been able to find.’
    ‘It’s not going to help – especially if this guy keeps holding up shops.’
    Jessica couldn’t argue; if the attacks continued then someone higher up the chain would take over the case anyway – likely her. She was about to offer some sort of encouragement and head off when Izzy added: ‘Has the guv still