The Piggy Farmer (The Barrington Patch Book 3) Emmy Ellis (notion reading list TXT) đ
- Author: Emmy Ellis
Book online «The Piggy Farmer (The Barrington Patch Book 3) Emmy Ellis (notion reading list TXT) đ». Author Emmy Ellis
Today she had a meeting, one sheâd asked for in private, with those three detectives, the ones who led the case, useless prats that they were. DCI Robin Gorley, DC Simon Knight, and DS Lisa Codderidge. Bob Holworth was going to be there, too, seeing as he was a beat officer, supposedly with his twig-like finger on the pulse of the community, although he turned a blind eye to everything because of Lenny. Joe wasnât aware of what she was doingâshe didnât need him smoothing things over, accepting everything the police had to say, nodding, saying, âThank you for all youâve done.â
And what was that then? Nowt much as far as she was concerned. Officers had gone over Joeâs land and Sculptorâs Field, canvassed the residents, but other than thatâŠ
It wasnât enough.
Part of her thought Joe was amenable for a quiet life, or maybe coping with grief was enough for him to deal with at the minute, and owt more was tooâŠextra. He was probably holding on by the skin of his teeth, although he hid it well for her sake, God bless him. She could understand why he acted that way, but for her own peace of mind, she needed to know once and for all whether everything had been done that could be doneâbut she knew that answer already: it hadnât, not in her mind anyroad.
The lie in placeââIâm going to the market, Joe. I need some fresh air and time by myself. No, please donât come with meâŠââshe parked in town behind the high street and walked towards the nearby police station. She imagined theyâd be dreading her arrival, moaning amongst themselves about having to put up with some snivelling woman who couldnât let things go. The Family Liaison Officer, Dina Corsa, had been the only one whoâd seemed to give a proper shit, staying with Lou and Joe while their horrific new life played out, from the snatch right up until a week after the funeralâbut her being there was more to do with watching them, to see if owt slipped and their guilt became apparent.
It was usually the parents, Dina had said, without tact, but Lou preferred honesty.
âNot that I think itâs you, mind.â Dina had massaged her templesâit must be headache-inducing having to observe people so closely. âBut I have to stay here because of that line of enquiry. Youâre good people, I can see that, but those are the rules, and I apologise if itâs obvious Iâm listening in. Iâm not meant to tell you this sort of thing, by the way.â
Well, it was a good job Lou hadnât taken offence at that, wasnât it. Sheâd seen enough programmes on the box that showed a behind-the-scenes look at how the police worked. She remembered thinking they wouldnât find a speck of evidence against her and Joe: âYou carry on and do your job, Dina, but you wonât see or hear owt incriminating from us.â
She sighed, blotting out the memories.
Along the path that had a shortcut branching off it into town, people gave her funny looksâsome who might think Lou and Joe had something to do with the kidnap and murder, others clearly at a loss, not knowing what to do or say:
âDo I smile at her? No, thatâd be disrespectful.â
âDo I ask how she is? No, because I donât want her going on and on then crying; I canât deal with that, got too many of my own problems to deal with.â
Really, though? The biggest problem you could ever have was dying yourself or someone you loved carked it, but she got it, she did. Sheâd avoided grieving people herself in the past, unable to express her condolences without feeling fake or inappropriate. Like the flowers, platitudes were a waste of time. Nowt made death any better.
Unless it was murder for justice.
But maybe knowing the man in the back of the van had been caughtâŠthat would go some way to easing things a bit, to calming her tumultuous mind. Lenny had already killed The Mechanic, the man whoâd wielded the gun, but sheâd keep her mouth shut about that.
She entered the station, approaching the desk, telling the sergeant behind it who she was and why she was there, a stream of words sheâd rather not have uttered, but they were necessary all the same. To be honest, talking was a chore now.
Being a human trying to move on while emotionally stuck in place wore her out.
He gave her a sympathetic glance, his top lip hidden beneath a wiry, ginger-tipped moustache, the roots brown, and buzzed her through, his directions on where to go leaving her mind as quickly as theyâd entered it. She only ever retained information that was important these days, and all of it was to do with Jess.
The sergeant must have phoned through. DCI Gorley appeared in a doorway on the right, hanging out of the room, balanced on one foot as if he gripped the inside jamb, swinging there, a child in a manâs forty-something body. Hardly appropriate or respectful behaviour, was it, but sheâd let it slide no matter how much it poked at her nerves.
In the room, the other male officers sat on a sofa, the woman on one of two armchairs. Lou had been in here before, the âsoftâ interview room, one that was supposed to put people at ease and fool them into thinking they werenât being interrogated. Comfort, Gorley had said last time: âSo you donât feel overwhelmed with a table-and-chair setting, and we have video recording us instead of
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