Taste of Fury by M Comley (dar e dil novel online reading .txt) 📕

to this article written at the back end of last year, Nowak is an award-winning restaurant owner in the area.”

“He is?” Charlie frowned and queried.

Katy glanced up at the clock, it was already ten-thirty. She reached for the phone, dialled the number of the restaurant and held her crossed fingers up in the air as she waited for her call to be answered.

“Hello, Toskas. Can I help you?” A young female voice with a slight foreign accent filtered down the line.

“Oh hi, yes, I hope so. Is Nikodem there, please? If so, I’d like to have a brief chat with him.”

“Who are you?”

“Sorry, I should have introduced myself. I’m DI Katy Foster of the Met Police. Is he there?”

“No. I don’t know where he is. It’s a mystery, he usually shows up just after we open, at around seven, but tonight, he nowhere to be seen. I tried calling him, but his phone just rings and rings and then goes into voicemail. I’ve given up trying to contact him now. He must be out having nice time with a girl. Sorry, ignore me, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I won’t tell him what you said. So, am I to understand he’s not married then?”

The girl let out a real belly laugh. “Him? No way. No woman would ever be able to tie him down, many have tried over the years, or so I’ve been told. He goes out with a woman for a maximum of six months before he dumps her. He prefers life alone rather than be tied down, is that how you say it?”

“It is. Perhaps you can give me an address where I can contact him?”

“Why? Me no like handing over personal information to someone over the phone. You could be trying to trick me.”

“I’m not. I promise. My concern is genuine for Nikodem.”

“I still not sure. You come here in person, let me see your ID before I hand over information. How about that?”

“I could do that, but it’s only going to prove a waste of time. Please, just give me his address.”

Silence filled the line for what seemed like eons. The girl tutted on the other end. “Wait a minute. I wouldn’t do this usually, but I must admit I’m worried about not being able to get in touch with him. He’s always available twenty-four hours a day. He loves this place and finds it difficult to let go.”

“I understand. His address, if you will?” Katy prompted.

“Just a moment. I need to get my mobile, it’s in my contacts.” She dropped the phone on a desk, so Katy presumed, and returned less than a minute later. “Here it is. Forty-one Turnpike Close. Do you know it? It’s not far from the restaurant. He insists it would be a better idea to be on hand, just round the corner, in case of emergencies.”

“I’ll look it up on the map. Thanks for your help.”

“It’s okay. I hope he doesn’t have a go at me for giving out his address.”

“I’ll make sure you don’t get into trouble, you have my word.” Katy ended the call and looked at Charlie who had raised an expectant eyebrow. “Well, according to the young lady, he hasn’t shown up for work this evening, which is a rarity. I have his address, but it’s not going to be any use, he hasn’t got a girlfriend or partner. Sounds like a Polish Casanova to me, or he was. From what she told me, I’m making the deduction this is him, our third victim. I’ll try and ring Patti.” She reached for the phone.

“Umm… you think that’s wise at this time of night? She’ll hang, draw and quarter you if you wake her up. By the sounds of it, she doesn’t really get a lot of sleep as it is.”

“See, I told you, you’re a wise officer. In that case, maybe I’ll leave it until the morning. How have you got on? Any luck?”

“Ethan Romero is an IT consultant with Dorett Bytes. That’s all I have on him really, except reading through that article he was the driver of the vehicle.”

“Was he now? Let me take another read through the editorial before we decide what to do next.”

Charlie left her to read and bought them both another cup of coffee. “You read my mind, thanks, hon. Jesus, considering these guys were joy riding and the devastation they caused, they sure did get off lightly. Maximum term served was by Ethan, he got four years. The others ended up doing three years each.”

“Shameful. Why is it driving offences tend to carry a lesser sentence than a murder conviction when it amounts to the same thing? In the wrong hands, i.e., joy riders, a vehicle can be classed as a lethal weapon, can’t it? Why don’t judges see it that way?”

Katy blew out a large breath that puffed out her cheeks and she tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. “Your guess is as good as mine. It’s always been the same as far as I can remember.”

“It’s disgusting. Those poor kids weren’t taken into consideration at all, not in my eyes.”

Katy found herself nodding in agreement. “The courts were far more lenient eighteen years ago. Thinking about it, I’m not sure hit and runs or joy riding accidents are taken any more seriously nowadays.” She paused and mulled over something which flicked through her mind. “There was that case recently where a mother and toddler were killed outright when that young driver swerved to avoid hitting a dog. He climbed the pavement instead and knocked them down. If I recall rightly, the driver pleaded his innocence in court only to be handed down a five-year sentence for manslaughter. Two lives snuffed out in an instant, and that warranted five years sitting behind bars?” She sighed and shook her head in dismay. “He could be out in two and a half years, what kind of message is that sending out to the general public?” Her heart