“Fling your coat over there, love,” said Cathy North, “Back of the armchair, that’s right. Now come and give your mum a hug.”
DC Sean North edged past the glass-topped coffee table, avoiding stubbing his toe on the ornate eagle-clawed feet, and wrapped his arms around his mother. He broke away and sat on the sofa, smiling as he did so. He always felt comfortable here, having spent his teen years in its unchanging surroundings.
“I was in the area and couldn’t leave without calling in,” said Sean.
“Are you involved with the doings down the road? At number twenty-six?”
“For now, yes, but probably not for much longer.”
“What’s it all about?”
Sean hesitated. “You know I shouldn’t talk to you about it, mum.”
“I thought we didn’t have secrets from each other?”
“Well…,” he began, “if it goes no further – and I mean that. Not even dad…”
“You know your father. If it’s not about snooker, the old goat isn’t interested. But you have my word. Whatever you tell me will be strictly between us.”
If Sean had been honest with himself he would have admitted that’s one of the reasons he had called in. Talking things through with his mother always seemed to clarify his thoughts. And events were moving quickly.
“Okay mum, so long as that’s clear.” He cleared his throat. “There’s been a murder.”
“Oh my God. Who? Not Diane?”
“You know her?”
“Not well. I sometimes see her in the corner shop. What happened?”
“They’re still working on the exact cause of death. But they’ve found enough to – and again, I have to stress that this is confidential – found enough to suggest that she’s the latest victim in a series of killings.”
“A serial killer?”
“Yeah. And that’s why they’re bringing in the big guns. One gun is the Serious Crimes Analysis Section from the National Crime Agency. They deal with behavioural analysis and have been involved with the previous killings.”
“What makes them think it’s a serial killer?”
“It’s to do with the teeth. Each victim has had their front two teeth removed – post mortem – and had them replaced with those belonging to the previous victim. Stuck in with super glue.”
“Oh Sean…”
“I know. They’re calling the killer ‘the Dentist’, but are keeping it hush-hush. The Press would undoubtedly pay for this sort of information and you know the greed of some people.”
“Shouldn’t people know?”
“Not my decision. As I say, I’m not likely to be working on this much longer. Scenes Of Crime Officers are moving out, but they’re keeping the house sealed for now. I have to go back to the station to give a final briefing, so I should make tracks.”
Sean stood and moved over to the window, looking towards his car.
“Oh, typical. Someone’s boxed me in.”
“White van?”
“Yeah.”
“It’ll be picking up Denis next door. You won’t have to wait long.”
“Right.” He looked back at his mother. “You say you didn’t know Diane Morris that well?”
“No, love. She didn’t leave her house much. Borderline agoraphobic. I once saw her come home in a taxi after she’d had to go to the town centre. She was in a terrible state.”
Sean frowned. “So it’s not likely she’d travel to London?”
“Oh God, no.”
“That’s odd. I wonder why she had a new Oyster card?”
The Dentist
was another "Scrabble challenge" where original narrative had to
include specified words - this time: fling, eagle, goat, _un, dentist, greed, tracks, boxed, wait, oyster.
