Friday Feeling (1/8) By Nick Quantrill

(1/8), (2/8), (3/8), (4/8), (5/8), (6/8), (7/8), (8/8).

Friday 3pm It was building up to being another busy Friday afternoon shift. It was probably no busier than any other shift, but the extra tiredness that Detective Constable Maynard felt by this point made them feel that much longer. He had been sent to Young's general store in East Hull straight after attending a suspicious death over on the other side of the city. It was most definitely the lull before the storm, he thought as he received the shout to get himself across the city as soon as possible.

He switched the car engine off and removed the keys from the ignition. Tossing aside the various pieces of paper that were littering the passenger seat, he located his mobile. Confirming that he had no new messages that demanded immediate action, he stepped out of the car into the biting wind.

Having being caught in traffic on Castle Street as he crossed the city centre, Maynard had missed most of the forensic operation and arrived in an irritated mood. The Scenes of Crime Officer, Terry Hurley, was in residence, while a young PC stood at the shop entrance, guarding the police tape that had been erected to fence off the crime scene. Showing his identification, he entered the shop. It was poorly laid out with some shelves over-brimming with tins, while others stood practically empty. The shop floor was dirty from the accumulation of footprints and discarded till receipts.

'Any luck?' he asked, kneeling down to greet Hurley. 'Not a thing, so far.' Maynard noted that Hurley was dousing the doorframe with ninhydrin powder. The police only used this substance at the end of their forensic investigations, as it tended to destroy the more fragile forms of evidence that they would hope to find. 'Ok. I'll leave you to it'. Maynard eased himself up and said his farewells before moving towards the back of the store in search of the owner. The store was a throwback to the shops of his childhood.

Twenty years ago you could buy a whole range of groceries; tinned goods, fresh meat, refrigerated and frozen goods from these types of shops. It looked like the kind of place that time had forgotten, untouched by the retail revolution of large superstores and 24-hour convenience stores.

An old man appeared from the back of the store. Maynard produced his warrant card once again and introduced himself. 'Eddie Young. Owner of this last corner of resistance to the large supermarket.' Detective Sergeant Coleman sat at his desk, surrounded by mounds of paper piled upon it. He was under strict orders from Detective Inspector McCormack not to move until he had made a significant impression on the paper mountain. Lucky bastard, he thought as heard Maynard being told to make his way to Young's store, off Holderness Road.

Holderness Road was one of the major arteries into the city centre, but the new shopping complexes that were scattered around the city gave it a decaying atmosphere. It wasn't the most exciting of shouts, but it had to be better than this. He took another mouthful of coffee, and resisting the urge to log on to the Internet to pass a few minutes, he returned to analysing the data on a recent spate of car crime in the Willerby area. The pool of Intelligence Analysts was running on low at the present moment. Two analysts had recently left and suitable replacements had yet to be recruited.

That left one untrained junior member of staff in the office, while the rest were engaged in a major enquiry on the South Bank. As he expected to be called into court to give evidence in the next couple of days, he had been left to man the telephones and make some progress on the volume crime.

Continued... Next Page (2/8)

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