Not Dead Yet

summoned to the headmaster’s study. He had only met the recently appointed Chief Constable, Tom Martinson, very fleetingly at a social event, and had not had the opportunity to talk at any length with him. He would need Martinson’s confidence and backing if he were to rise any further from his current rank of Detective Superintendent.
    The rank of Chief Superintendent was the next goal on his career ladder, but he had no ambition to rise beyond that into the Assistant Chief Constable realm, partly because he didn’t think he could play the required politics, but more importantly because it would make it almost impossible to do any frontline police work, which was what he loved. In those elevated roles you were predominantly desk-bound managers. True, in his current role he was deskbound to a large extent, but he always had the option to get out into the field – and took every opportunity to do so.
    In any event he was very content with his current position, as Head of Major Crime. It was a position he could only have dreamed of when he had first joined the police, and it was a job that gavehim so much satisfaction he would happily stay in this position for the rest of his career.
    If he had one regret in life, it was that his father, also a police officer, and his mother, had not lived to see his success.
    But at the moment he was preoccupied by a big concern, which was that nothing stayed still in life. As a result of recent government budget cuts, police forces were required to amalgamate divisions and share resources, and some had to implement compulsory retirement after thirty years’ service. Sussex Police was now having to share its Major Crime Branch with Surrey. Which meant he could no longer be sure of remaining in this job. And his fear at this moment was that this summons to see the Chief meant bad news. Police officers could not be made redundant before retirement age, but many were currently being shunted sideways.
    The security guard gave him a cheery wave and he drove through the open barrier, then turned right, passing the police driving school and parked in front of the modern glass and brick Comms building. As he switched off the engine his phone rang.
    The display showed BLOCKED NUMBER .
    He answered, and to his dismay he heard an all too familiar voice down a crackly line, accompanied by what sounded suspiciously like the roar of waves.
    ‘Detective Superintendent?’
    ‘That you, Spinella? Thought you were on holiday?’
    ‘I am – in the Maldives on honeymoon,’ the Chief Crime Reporter of the Brighton Argus said. ‘Flying back tomorrow.’
    Bloody hell, you actually found someone to marry you, Grace thought, and nearly said. Instead he replied flatly, ‘Congratulations. I’m afraid your wedding invite must have got lost in the post.’
    ‘Haha,’ Spinella said.
    ‘What’s so important that it takes you away from your bride?’ Grace asked.
    ‘I hear you’ve got another murder.’
    ‘Finding married life boring already, are you?’
    There was a brief silence followed by another ‘Haha’.
    ‘I’d return to your bride, if I were you, Kevin. Leave us to sortout whatever we have to deal with. I’m sure the city can cope in your absence.’
    ‘But you and I have a responsibility to the citizens of Brighton and Hove, don’t we, Detective Superintendent – especially when it involves a headless human torso?’
    How the hell, Grace wondered, as he did every time Spinella called him, did the reporter have this information already? ‘I think our responsibilities are a bit different, actually,’ he replied.
    ‘Is there anything you can tell me about the body at Stonery Farm?’
    Grace did not answer him immediately. It had been decided that the information that the torso was missing its head and limbs would be withheld from the press for the time being. ‘Why do you suppose it is headless?’ he asked.
    ‘Well, it’s got no arms or legs, so it probably hasn’t got a head either. Not much point leaving the head on if you’re going to that much trouble, is there?’ Spinella said. ‘Not like he’s going to be much use as a football player.’
    Every time during this past year that there had been a murder in the city, Spinella had the information way before anyone else. Any Sussex police computer would instantly have access to the log of the incident – which meant the leak could be coming from anyone inside Sussex Police.
    The moment he had time, he was determined to