Michael Fowler - Cold Death

He had also spotted DCI Dawn Leggate at the court and taken her to one side to check on the prosecutions’ case. On this occasion she was far more amenable, telling him that the evidence against the pair was overwhelming. So much so that she was expecting the pair to enter a guilty plea at the last moment. She added that the Procurator Fiscal was requesting an indeterminate life sentence for both men: the likely hood was that they would die in prison.

After that they had gone on to Belshill, his father’s old home town, where he had been introduced to his dad’s cousins. It had been a weekend of celebrations resulting in very thick head’s for both of them. Since then he had witnessed a whole new mood change in his father’s demeanour and they had spent some very enjoyable sessions together, especially down at the gym.

The ringing telephone, back in the lounge, broke his reverie. He heard Beth answer it.

“Hunter it’s for you,” she shouted, walking towards him, holding out the handset. “It’s work.”

He held up his hands to her, indicating they were smeared with oil paint.

She switched it to speaker phone and turned it towards him.

“Hello.”

“DS Kerr?”

He recognised the voice of one of the duty group Inspectors. “Speaking.”

“Sorry to disturb you at home. I know it’s your long weekend off, but I’ve been asked to call you in. Some of my officers are at the scene of a derelict pub. A couple of builder’s there have found the remains of a body in the cellar.”