The DCI Warren Jones Series Books 1–3. Paul Gitsham

to risk slopping milk down his suit and tie, Warren settled for toast and marmalade and a slug of orange juice, tucking a tea towel into his lapel to catch any crumbs.

      Warren arrived at the station at the same time as Severino’s solicitor. In the early morning sun, Stock looked even younger to Warren. He drove a battered, twelve-year-old Vauxhall Corsa and his trousers weren’t an exact match for his suit jacket — the same suit jacket he had been wearing the day before when his client had vomited in his lap. The two men exchanged a cordial good morning, then separated as they entered the police station, Warren heading up to his office, the young solicitor to the reception desk to announce his presence and get a visitor’s pass.

      Warren’s office was pretty much as he had left it the previous night, with the exception of a number of scribbled messages, including several different ones from the numerous divisions within Welwyn’s forensic department that were assisting on the case. Warren decided to deal with them later in the morning after he and Sutton had their first go at cracking Severino. Besides which, it wasn’t even eight on a Sunday morning, he could spend hours playing voicemail tennis before tracking down what he wanted — he might as well just wait until a more civilised hour. The final note confirmed that CCTV from Tesco corroborated Clara Hemmingway’s alibi. Warren made a note to remove her from the suspects board.

      At eight a.m., Sutton poked his head around the door. “Morning, guv. Good night out with the in-laws?” Jones’ grunt said all that needed to be said.

      “How we going to play this, then?”

      “I’m not in the mood for pissing about this morning. Let’s just haul him in, give him a chance to confess if he wants to, then turn up the heat. The super wants to give a press conference at eleven. If Severino confesses first thing, we’ll charge him and announce it at the conference. Otherwise, we’ll just keep the press dangling. Regardless, I want him charged by this evening at the latest, and in front of the magistrate tomorrow morning.”

      Sutton nodded his approval. “Sounds like a plan, Chief. I’ll ring downstairs and get them to bring him in.”