PC Jack Hobson cautiously made his way down the corridor towards the kitchen, ‘following the light’ he told himself. Even so, he held his torch tightly in his left hand, his ASP extendable collapsible baton in the other, but the kitchen was empty, clearly undisturbed, a layer of dust gathering on the worktops. Idly, he wrote his initials in the dust. ‘Hobson was here,’ he muttered to himself as a means of quelling his nervousness.
He quickly checked the other ground-floor rooms: dining room, lounge, TV room, library, and games room in which stood a snooker table protected by a heavy-duty vinyl cloth. He briefly considered racking up the balls and having a game, considering himself (unjustifiably) to be an expert player, but then quickly decided he wanted to spend as little time as possibl
