The Holiday

‘DI West.’

‘Sorry to trouble you, Carl. I hope you haven’t had too many reds,’ the voice of Chief Inspector Rankin sounded in his ear.

‘Only the one, so far, Chief.’ If the Chief Inspector was calling him on a Saturday, when he was rostered off, something serious had happened. ‘I guess this isn’t a social call.’

‘Get your travel bag, Carl, and make sure you pack a toothbrush. I’m sending you on a little holiday up the river. Harry should be there to pick you up in about half an hour,’ said the Chief Inspector. ‘We have a body and what looks like a kidnapping.’

That sounded like standard fare to Carl. There had to be more to it than that.

‘Why can’t the local boys handle it?’

‘The body is Kieran Moore.’

‘Oh. And the kidnapping?’

‘Been listening to the radio or watching the TV today, Carl?’

‘No, I’ve been reading the paper.’

‘Yesterday’s news, Carl. We’ve been looking for Kieran’s great grandson since eleven o’clock this morning. Turns out he was with Kieran.’

‘And now he’s not.’

‘Good to see your head is clearing. Give me a call when you’ve spoken to the local boys.’ The Chief Inspector hung up.