Trophies: a gripping detective thriller (The Wakefield Series Book 1) by David Evans Page B

photographs obtained from the lab were displayed. “Yesterday afternoon, concealed in the victim’s wardrobe, we discovered this box,” she said, pointing to the relevant picture. “One possible motive for Williams’ murder may have been its recovery. So far, we’ve managed to identify Williams’ prints but we’re still trying for a match on some others we’ve found. The contents all appear to be items of ladies’ jewellery or items normally associated with women. Detailed descriptions of the eight pieces are in your notes, page four.”
    Paper was shuffled as notes were turned over to the relevant page.
    “Malcolm and I have been trawling the archives for any cases where women have been attacked and items may have been stolen. So far, we’ve come up with twelve examples of unsolved assaults on women in the north of England. These are on page five of your notes.” Stainmore held up the list. “They range from an attack on a prostitute, Norma Thurlow, in 1981 in Headingley, right up to seventeen year old Lorraine Popplewell eighteen months ago, including barmaid, Irene Nicholson, three years ago, here in Wakefield.”
    Kirkland interrupted, “Surely the Nicholson case is closed now, Sarge? Summers is serving a four stretch for it.”
    “For the time being, we’re looking at that again,” Strong said. “For one thing, Williams was interviewed in connection with the case at the time. Judging by the night-time reading we found below his bed, he had an unhealthy interest in women, or maybe a healthy interest, depending on your point of view. The thing is, did the box belong to Williams and, therefore by implication, was he responsible for these attacks? Or, if it wasn’t his, how come we found it in his flat with his prints all over it? Was he hiding it for someone else? Possible but unlikely. Or, a more probable option, did he steal it on one of his burglary excursions? In which case, let’s look more closely at the victims of these recent break-ins. Any luck tracking down current whereabouts of the women assaulted, Kelly?”
    “I’ve addresses for five so far, and one, Susannah Walker, assaulted in Sheffield in 1983, died in 1995.”
    “Any more possible matches for those items of jewellery, Malcolm?”
    “Just the two up to now but we hope to make progress on that when we start re-interviewing the victims.”
    “Carry on with that but start the process by having a little chat with Irene Nicholson. See if she recognises anything. Also, try the description of Williams again.” Strong turned and addressed the whole team. “Right, you all know what you’re doing! Let’s get on with it.”
    As they all rose, Ormerod approached Strong. “The DCI won’t be happy with you digging around Irene Nicholson again, guv,” he said, quietly.
    “Let me worry about that, Luke.”
    A young uniformed officer knocked and poked his head round the door. “Sir,” he spoke to Strong, “DCI Cunningham wants to see you.”
    “Bollocks,” Strong said, then turned to Luke Ormerod, “You sure he hasn’t installed a bloody web cam in here?”
    “I’ll let you worry about that, guv,” Ormerod quipped, a grin breaking out below his moustache.
     
    Detective Chief Inspector Jack Cunningham was known by all and sundry in CID as ‘The Enforcer’, ever since the former cabinet minister of the same name came to prominence. A big bull of a man, at six feet five and around seventeen stones, he was an imposing figure sitting behind his desk. He’d played rugby and cricket for many years, to a good standard too, and his office was littered with photos and mementos of games past. An old brown rugby ball stood on a display stand on the middle shelf of the bookcase, a crystal bowl on his filing cabinet and a number of statues of cricketers were lined up on the window cill behind his chair.
    Strong wondered what fate he had in store. He’d gone over all the recent cases in his mind. Had Cunningham heard about him wanting to