TWENTY-ONE
A PLAN OF ACTION?
“You look bloody awful, if you don’t mind me saying so, sir.”
Detective Sergeant George Wright had walked into his inspector’s office just after eight a.m. to find Holland looking as dishevelled a sight as he’d ever seen his boss appear. Shafts of sunlight pouring through the plate glass window of the office served only to highlight the appearance of the inspector who sat bathed in the halo produced by the sunlight that diffused around him from behind his back.
The DI looked as though he’d slept in his clothes, which he had of course, and his chin showed traces of stubble that suggested a not too close encounter with his razor that morning. His hair, never his best feature due to its propensity for thinning and making him look older than his years, appeared
