The dangers of Smoking.
The dangers of smoking are widely known, by smokers and non smokers alike. Detective Sergeant James Hathaway knows them, accepts them and lives with them. Except one. No one thought to warn about that one did they?
Chapter 2
Laura Hobson waited as Lewis and Hathaway stepped into their paper suits, it was a week since their last suspicious crime scene. Laura's fill of the week had been calls to home deaths or accidents, alerted by over zealous coppers. Each and every one had been ruled accidental or natural. Hathaway and Lewis catching a couple that turned into nothing. This was different.
"I gather this is another homeless person?" Hathaway asked.
"Glad to see that Cambridge education isn't going to waste" she quipped, looking up from where they stood.
James read the sign that hung above her head 'The Charitable Homeless Shelter, Oxford'
"Could be a volunteer" James replied flatly.
"Well it's not" she returned "Room 3"
They stepped into a small room, four bunk beds took up most of the space, and what was left was littered with various kit and white suited scenes of crimes officers. A man lay on his back, eyes opaque in death staring at a dirty ceiling, on the top of one set of beds.
"This one wasn't whacked" she said "Few bruises here and there, but apart from the fact he's dead, nothing out of the ordinary"
"Found here?" Lewis frowned "Like this?"
"Paramedics turned the body over" Laura replied "But once they established death they pulled out and called your lot"
"And who found him?" James asked.
"The shelter manager" Laura replied "In her office now with uniform"
"Right" James nodded and stepped back to exit the room, nodding to Evie as he left.
"Morning" he said, receiving a likewise reply.
"Time of death?" Lewis asked, nosing around the body on tip toes to see more.
"Last night" Laura replied "Best guess right now, between 10 and midnight"
…...
"Good morning Ma'am" James tapped on the door emblazoned 'Manager' "Detective Sergeant James Hathaway, Oxfordshire Police"
"Please, come in" the middle aged woman looked at him with watery eyes and returned her tissue to her nose "Awful, just awful"
"I understand this is a shock for you" James said kindly "Are you up to answering some questions?"
"Of course" she waved him into a seat "Please, ignore me, silly old woman, you'd think this was the first body I've found here"
James took the seat, flipping open his notebook "There have been others?"
"Tea?" she said, shooting to her feet "We're English aren't we? Isn't that what we do in a crisis? Drink tea? Can we say English any more? I lose track!"
"I think the correct term is British" he eyed her carefully "And yes, tea is a good idea" he turned his head to the uniformed officer that stood awkwardly near by "Would you?"
"Sarge" the man nodded, and left.
"Kitchen's on your left!" the woman called after him.
"Sit down" James advised in a soft voice "Mrs...?"
"Graham" she supplied "How observant to notice the ring"
"Mrs Graham" James continued, or tried to.
"Barbara" she added.
"Barbara" he tried again "Do you know who the man is? In room three?"
"I only know him as fisherman Stan" the tissue and the tears returned "Such a kind man"
…...
Evie closed the van and headed back to the shelter for more kit, walking along the path she was hit with a craving as the smell of a freshly lit cigarette drifted under her nose. Peering around the corner she saw Hathaway, leaning against a wall, one foot raised and flat against the brickwork.
"Thought I smelled exile" she smiled, stepping fully around the corner.
"Could I tempt you?" he asked, one side of his mouth lifted in a smile.
He caught a look across her face, and then a blush creep into her cheeks and scrambled in his pocket for his cigarettes.
"To, er..." he thrust the packet towards her, flushing himself.
"Oh, yes" she took the packet and stared intently at it as she took one "Thank you, won't be missed for a minute I'm sure"
He coughed, and held his lighter out for her.
"Thanks" she muttered, and they lapsed into silence, both looking everywhere but each other.
"How's the manager?" Evie asked eventually "She was a bit of a mess when we arrived"
"Shaken" he replied "Sometimes we who see it often become immune to death"
"I wouldn't say immune" she pondered "Maybe hardened to it, through necessity"
"Yes" James nodded and chanced a look in her direction, now his face had stopped glowing so much. The curse of being fair, blushing was blatantly obvious "Does Dr Hobson have any ideas?"
"Nothing so far" she met his eyes for a second and he looked away "She said time of death between 10 and midnight, but that's about it. SOCO haven't found anything suspicious either"
"Second homeless person in a month James mused "Could be coincidence"
"I don't believe in coincidence" she smiled "Everything happens for a reason"
He looked at her, eyes slightly narrowed as he weighed up her comment.
"Unconnected then" he corrected himself.
"That's your job" she smiled at him, crushing her cigarette out under her heel "Thanks, I needed that" she added.
"Any time" he inclined his head.
…...
"James for God's sake!" Lewis exclaimed irritably.
"What?!" Hathaway looked up with a questioning expression from his stance, leaning down to scratch his ankle.
"Have ye got fleas or somethin'?" Lewis frowned from his place across the small pub table "You've done nothing but scratch since I picked you up!"
"My apologies, Sir" Hathaway thrust his trouser leg down "Though having spent the better part of the afternoon in homeless shelters, I fear it's a distinct possibility"
"Scratching will make them worse" Lewis advised.
"Thank you" Hathaway lip curled slightly as he picked up his drink.
Lewis huffed "Do you think there's a connection?" he asked "This one and the one in the woods?"
"Well our first victim, it would appear was a loner" James mused "This one, he's pretty well known"
"Why 'Fisherman' Stan?" Lewis frowned.
"According to the manager" Hathaway replied "He used to fish the river years ago, had a boat that was removed for as yet, unknown reasons, and from then on, lived on the street"
"Unknown reasons?"
"Julie is pulling the records" James answered him "But we have a large time scale, about 30 years"
"Hmmm" Lewis gave him a sly look "Julie does like to take the more mundane things off your hands doesn't she?"
"It's her job" James snapped.
Lewis smirked and picked up his pint, just as his mobile demanded to be answered, sighing he put it down again.
"Hello?"
James watched as he listened and replied, and then cut the call.
"Your better half?" James teased.
"Watch it" Lewis pointed at him and gave his untouched pint a longing look before leading the way out of the pub.