{"id":121,"date":"2011-01-30T01:11:11","date_gmt":"2011-01-30T01:11:11","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/geraldhornsby.wordpress.com\/?p=121"},"modified":"2011-01-30T01:11:11","modified_gmt":"2011-01-30T01:11:11","slug":"samplesunday-30th-january-2011","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/gerald-hornsby.com\/blog\/2011\/01\/30\/samplesunday-30th-january-2011\/","title":{"rendered":"#SampleSunday – 30th January 2011"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

TWELVE DAYS (– First draft –)<\/p>\n

Chapter 1 – 6:38pm, Monday 14th December<\/p>\n

The long-awaited and well-predicted fall of snow had finally arrived, and Detective Chief Inspector Danny McGregor turned up the collar on his overcoat, and jammed his hands back into his pockets. He hated winter \u2013 he hated the cold, he hated the rain, and he especially hated the snow. And he hated being called out on a cold, rainy, snowy night.<\/p>\n

Behind him, buses idled noisily at bus stops, steam rising lazily from their exhausts, and beyond that, cars on the dual carriageway created slooshing white noise as they dashed home, oblivious of the dramas being played out on the quiet back street.<\/p>\n

Head down, he passed several other similarly-hunched pedestrians, walking away from the station, and presumably back to the warmth and comfort of their houses. It would be several hours before McGregor would be able to get home tonight, if at all. Christmas was a time of contrasts, but most of McGregor\u2019s Christmases had been far from happy.<\/p>\n

Up ahead, he could see the flashing blue lights bouncing off the tall buildings and reflecting off the settling snow in the quiet back street. He stepped into the road, and cold, wet slush rose over his shoes and soaked through his socks.<\/p>\n

\u201cShit.\u201d<\/p>\n

He hurried across the road, and in the limited light he made out the silhouette of Detective Sergeant Pauline Bennett.<\/p>\n

\u201cBennett\u201d, he called out.<\/p>\n

The silhouette turned, and moved. \u201cGlad you got here OK, guv. I was beginning to get worried.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSometimes, I hate Christmas. What have we got?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDead body.\u201d She referred to a small, black notepad. \u201cStudent. Maria Stama. Nasty slit throat. Almost took her head off. She\u2019s over here.\u201d<\/p>\n

Bennett led the way past uniformed officers, stamping their feet, awaiting further instructions, trying to keep warm as the evening turned into night. The two detectives ducked under striped blue-and-white tape, and they turned into an alleyway between a bar and an empty department store.<\/p>\n

Maria Stama was lying face down amongst some cardboard boxes and litter. It almost looked like she was sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of the enormous police activity going on around her. Her head rested against a cardboard box, a manufacturer\u2019s name partially hidden by a growing dark shadow. She wore jeans and a thin top, totally unsuited to the weather. To one side, a handbag lay open, some of the contents spilling out.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaria \u2026?\u201d McGregor asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cStama,\u201d Bennett completed. \u201cItalian. Been over here two years.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSOCO?\u201d McGregor asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou mean the Crime Scene Examiner? About ten minutes away, guv. Caught up in traffic.\u201d<\/p>\n

McGregor tutted at the continual redefinition of titles and roles within the police service. \u201cHow come do<\/del> they take so long?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know these Scene of Crime people, boss. A case like this, the figure the deceased isn\u2019t going anywhere, and it\u2019s likely they\u2019re going to spend most of the night here, anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGet on the radio to them. See if you can\u2019t get them to hurry up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve already done that. They say they\u2019re doing the best they can. And then they asked if I realised it was Christmas.\u201d<\/p>\n

McGregor muttered something obscene under his breath, and moved back out of the alleyway, Bennett behind him, as always.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho found her, Pauline?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOne of her friends.\u201d She looked at her notebook. \u201cLaura Chapin. There were a bunch of them, out celebrating in the pub just over there.\u201d Bennett nodded across the road, and McGregor saw a brightly-lit, modern bar, where a number of people were standing around, beer bottles in hand, watching what was going on. Each of them was dressed just in trousers and shirts, no coats, and not for the first time in his life, McGregor wondered what it was about the younger generation that made them impervious to this freezing weather.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere\u2019s Chapin now?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIn one of the squad cars. I figured you\u2019d want to speak to her as soon as you could.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCheers. I\u2019ll go and have a word.\u201d<\/p>\n

As he walked to the squad car Bennett had indicated, McGregor again looked at the small crowd of people outside the pub, being held back behind Scene of Crime tape by a couple of uniforms. One man, young, with an angular, clean-shaven face, lifted his bottle towards McGregor, and nudged the man standing next to them. The two watched McGregor with interest.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s going on?\u201d one of them shouted across.<\/p>\n

McGregor ignored him, and also the larger piles of slush to get to the lime green striped Vauxhall, where he could see a young girl with her head down, and a female officer sitting next to her on the back seat, arm around the young girl\u2019s shoulders. McGregor nodded to the officer stamping his feet by the car, and he got into the front passenger seat.<\/p>\n

\u201cHi, Laura,\u201d he said. \u201cMy name\u2019s Detective Chief Inspector McGregor. I\u2019m in charge of the investigation, for the moment. My associate tells me you found your poor friend?\u2019<\/p>\n

The young girl looked up. She was attractive, or at least had been before her mascara had run from her eyes and down her cheeks. Short blonde hair, and somewhat hollow-cheeked, she looked like a small waif, completely out of place in this crime scene.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaria was a friend of mine. She was going back to Italy for Christmas tomorrow. This was a celebratory drink. Just a few of us.\u201d She looked down again. \u201cWho the fuck would do something like that? There are some sick fuckers around this crappy city.\u201d<\/p>\n

McGregor nodded. \u201cAnd you\u2019re not from round here, are you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCheltenham. That\u2019s where my parents live. I shared a flat up here with Maria and a couple of other mates. We all got on.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan you tell me what happened? Was she with you in the pub?\u201d<\/p>\n

Chapin sniffed. \u201cYes. We\u2019d been there since around six. Just drinking, you know?\u201d<\/p>\n

McGregor nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, anyway, Maria got this text message. On her phone. When she read it, she looked confused. Said she needed to go outside for a few minutes. She gave me some money for the next round.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you didn\u2019t see her after that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. Well, not until \u2026\u201d She looked out of the side window, before turning to McGregor again. \u201cAfter about five minutes, I bought the next round, but she hadn\u2019t returned. I left my drink on the table, and went outside to see where she was.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCould you see her?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. Not at first. I called out to her. She didn\u2019t answer. I walked up the road a bit. And that\u2019s when I found her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI see. Listen.\u201d MecGregor looked at his watch. Seven-forty, How\u2019d it get to be that time? \u201cI\u2019m afraid we\u2019re going to need to take a full statement from you. It\u2019s probably not what you want to do tonight \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I\u2019m due to be going home tomorrow. To Cheltenham,\u201d she added.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you want to do it tonight, then that\u2019s okay. But you\u2019ll need to come down to the police station. We need to write everything down. Do you feel up to that?\u201d
\nShe nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay, you just stay here for a moment. I\u2019ll get someone to pick you up, take your statement, and then drop you wherever you need to go tonight. Is that okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

She nodded, again, more slowly this time.<\/p>\n

McGregor looked at the female officer, who said: \u201cI\u2019ll stay with her for the moment.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks. I\u2019ll get a DC over as soon as I can.\u201d He put his hand on Chapin\u2019s arm, who flinched as if an electric shock had passed through her.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry,\u201d McGregor muttered, and climbed out of the car, to find Bennett waiting for him.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe need at least one DC here, female, to take her to the station for a statement.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTonight?\u201d Bennett asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. Tonight. Is that a problem?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Bennett said. \u201cIf you like, I\u2019ll do it now. Get it over with.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. I need you with me. Get someone else over to do it.\u201d<\/p>\n

He walked off, leaving Bennett to make the arrangements. Once again, he had to pass the crowd of young people outside the bar.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow long are we going to have to wait here? We\u2019ve got some serious drinking to do.\u201d There was a subdued cheer, and shouts of \u201cdead right\u201d.<\/p>\n

McGregor stopped his march towards the crime scene, and slowly approached the group.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019d better watch it, Carl,\u201d one of the group said. \u201cHe\u2019ll arrest you if you\u2019re not careful.\u201d More cheers.<\/p>\n

McGregor addressed the whole group. \u201cI\u2019m sorry you\u2019re having to wait around on a night like this. As you may, or may not know, a young girl has been brutally murdered a few yards from here, and all of you are potential witnesses to what went on.\u201d<\/p>\n

There were groans, and the one who shouted before, Carl, spoke up. \u201cSo what, we have to wait here to give a statement or something? This is ridiculous.\u201d There were more groans from the group.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry that you\u2019re being inconvenienced,\u201d McGregor went on. \u201cYou\u2019ll be seen as soon as we can get someone here to take your statements.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan\u2019t we wait inside the pub? At least we\u2019d be able to get a drink then. It was Carl\u2019s round.\u201d More cheers, answered by a \u201cfuck off\u201d.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m afraid not,\u201d said McGregor. He looked at the two uniformed officers keeping the group in check, but he didn\u2019t need to say anything. They knew their job. McGregor carried on towards the crime scene, and was caught up by Bennett.<\/p>\n

\u201cJulia Trent will be here in about two minutes, guv. She was on her way anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood. Make sure you get the rest of Stama\u2019s group identified and isolated from the rest of them.We\u2019ll need to get them interviewed tonight as well. Drag in as many as you think you need. I don\u2019t want to risk any potential witnesses leaving the scene.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked around, and up at the sky, where snow was once again falling.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy would anyone want to murder a student just before Christmas?\u201d He shook his head. \u201cSometimes, I hate my job.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

TWELVE DAYS (– First draft –) Chapter 1 – 6:38pm, Monday 14th December The long-awaited and well-predicted fall of snow had finally arrived, and Detective Chief Inspector Danny McGregor turned up the collar on his overcoat, and jammed his hands back into his pockets. He hated winter \u2013 he hated the cold, he hated the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-121","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-samplesunday"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p5y3CH-1X","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/gerald-hornsby.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/121","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/gerald-hornsby.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/gerald-hornsby.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gerald-hornsby.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gerald-hornsby.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=121"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/gerald-hornsby.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/121\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/gerald-hornsby.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=121"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gerald-hornsby.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=121"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gerald-hornsby.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=121"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}