The Hero's Fall (DCI Cook Thriller Series Book 14) by Phillip Strang (classic books for 10 year olds TXT) 📕

if he considered it, which he won’t, it needs others more capable of carrying it out. Jaden’s not taking this personally, and nor should you.’

‘Someone shot at Simmons. We don’t know the reason.’

‘Don’t we?’

‘Are you saying…?’

‘I’m not saying anything. The truth is out there, and I’ll publish it first, let the police have the evidence afterwards, and Jerome, enough time to issue a statement.’

‘If I’m not going to sway you?’

‘It’ll take more than a night of passion.’

‘If not that, would you be open to a counteroffer?’

‘Of what? Money?’

‘It’s possible.’

‘It’s not money I want. It’s the prestige, being respected as a serious journalist, never again having to interview head-up-their-arse talentless actors and singers. That’s what I want. Would you take some advice from someone older than you?’

‘If you like.’

‘Jerome Jaden is going broke. He won’t say it openly, but he’s in debt, and Tricia Warburton’s not going to cut the mustard. Sure, she looks good, but she doesn’t have the depth of Simmons nor the credibility, and as for heights, she would shake at the top of a ladder.’

‘Tonight?’ Tom said.

‘Eat your fish, and go home to Alison, tell her you lucked out. No doubt, she’ll be pleased, put you out of your misery.’

Chapter 19

Angus Simmons’s parents parted company after spending two weeks together. She, back to Scotland, to resume her solitary life, and for him, his mistress and his life of mild eccentricity.

Maddox Timberley, her relationship with Brett Valentine a matter of social interest, continued to find solace in his arms.

By his own admission, Valentine’s future as a model would only last as long as the demand for chisel-jawed, flat-bellied and slightly effeminate men lasted. Being an adjunct to Maddox didn’t make him a murderer.

Karen Majors beavered away, realised that she was losing the battle and that the advertisers were looking for a discount, something she couldn’t give, not beyond a certain point.

Bob Babbage continued to look out for other opportunities, aware that the financials don’t lie.

The young Cook, the first-born of Isaac and Jenny, was now taking tentative steps around the house, becoming more adventurous, banging into things, crying until either parent came to soothe.

Isaac was not enjoying himself; the hours were long, and when he got home, invariably late at night, he wanted peace, the sort that Jenny had given him, but now there were issues to discuss. Which school would be best? So intelligent, so beautiful, from Jenny. He had to agree, but it was sleep he needed, and he knew he was irritable, likely to snap at his wife, something he didn’t want to do.

Apart from Homicide, there was nothing he would have preferred than spend time at home with his wife and his young son, to see the world through their eyes, the simple pleasures, the contentment, the joy. But it was not to be for him, not yet, probably never as long as people committed crimes and killed.

A Thursday night, close to midnight, Isaac was in bed, Jenny by his side, their son in the other room. He had worked every day for the last twenty-two. Tomorrow, he intended to lie in, arrive at Challis Street Police Station at midday.

The phone rang; Isaac ignored it. Others could deal with whatever drama it was, he thought.

It rang again. ‘You can’t ignore it,’ Jenny said.

Isaac put the phone to his ear. ‘Yes, what is it?’ he said.

‘Sorry to disturb you, and usually I wouldn’t bother you, but…’ Larry Hill said.

‘Is it important?’

‘Maddox Timberley’s attempted suicide. She’s in the hospital.’

‘Will she live?’

‘It appears that it was a half-hearted attempt, sleeping pills washed down with vodka.’

‘Even so. Which hospital?’

‘Praed Street, St Mary’s. Just up from Paddington Station.’

‘I know where it is. I’ll be there in thirty minutes, maybe thirty-five. Uniform?’

‘I’ve got one outside her room.’

‘Tell him to be vigilant.’

‘Sorry about the hour.’

‘You were right to call, and besides, Jenny’s already running the shower for me.’

Isaac arrived forty-one minutes later; at Jenny’s insistence, he wore a clean shirt, knowing that he wouldn’t be back until late that day once he left the house.

‘Make sure your inspector takes you for breakfast,’ she said as she kissed him goodbye.

‘I’ll make it up.’

‘You won’t. Besides, I signed up for this. I knew what it was going to be like.’

Isaac found Larry propping up a vending machine, a paper cup in one hand, a bar of chocolate in the other.

‘Milk, no sugar,’ Isaac said.

‘Here, take this one.’ Larry handed over the cup. ‘I saw you parking your car.’

‘Maddox?’ Isaac said as he drank his coffee, the taste of the paper cup.

‘They’ve pumped her stomach. We can see her in a few minutes. Don’t expect much from her.’

‘Any idea?’

‘Not yet. Valentine found her after he came back from a night out with friends.’

‘Drunk?’

‘Drunk and drugged. I’ve left a uniform there. Once he’s conscious, we’ll go and talk to him.’

Inside the hospital room, Maddox Timberley revived, a nurse giving her a drink, an intravenous drip in her arm.

‘Not so smart,’ Isaac said when the woman looked at him. He thought that asking her how she was wasn’t the best approach. He knew how she felt – sick as a dog and aware of her stupidity.

‘I suppose it wasn’t, but you wouldn’t understand,’ Maddox said.

‘Try me,’ Isaac said. Larry had left, gone to visit Brett Valentine, as the uniform had phoned to say that the man was stumbling around the kitchen, looking for something to eat, burning his hand on the hob as he attempted to fry bacon.

‘It just got too much, this pretending, a new love, the world at my feet.’

‘Whereas you’re a decent person from a stable background, seduced by the bright lights,