Ridpath waved goodbye to Sophia and slipped behind the wheel. ‘What did she say, Dave?’
‘Not a lot. Just said she wanted to show us something at her lab.’
‘Where is it?’
‘In Manchester Science Park, close to Oxford Road.’
‘I know it. I can be there in thirty minutes, I’m in Sale now.’
‘Can you pick me up from Stretford nick on the way?’
‘So I’m a bloody taxi driver, am I?’
‘You’ve been promoted, Ridpath. I’ll wait outside on Talbot Road for you. Holloway is still on the warpath, pissed Claire Trent refuses to release more resource to him.’
‘He’s right, Dave. We need more warm bodies. I’m meeting with her at noon to go over the case, I’ll see if we can get some help. Did DC Davis tell you about the post-mortem last night?’
‘Mr Goody-two-shoes presented a typed report to myself and Holloway at nine a.m. Holloway was as happy as a Bury black pudding on a bacon roll. That lad will go far if he can keep it up. I’ll give you a copy of his notes when you pick me up. But I have some bad news.’
‘Go on.’
‘Holloway has taken him off the case temporarily to look into a series of burglaries in Urmston.’
‘You’re joking.’
‘I wish I was. We’ll get him back tomorrow.’
Ridpath shook his head. No wonder Holloway was desperate for more resource. ‘Anything from the canvas of the local area?’
‘Nothing except the usual rumours and gossip. Apparently, it’s haunted by the ghost of a young boy who died there.’
‘Is that why the film crew went?’
‘Probably. Bloodsuckers, all of them. Anyway, other than a few complaints to the council about druggies using it, nobody saw anything.’
‘Shame. And the film crew?’
‘They’ve all signed statements. We checked up on them. None of them have records, all clean as whistle, except one is banned from driving for DUI.’
‘Which one?’
‘The presenter, Ian Rodgers, caught pissed as a newt driving on the A6.’
‘He’s obviously one for the spirits.’
‘Boom, boom. See you in ten minutes.’
The phone clicked off and Ridpath went through his messages. One from Mrs Challinor.
He typed using one index finger.
He always envied his daughter, whose texting was a blur of fingers and sometimes toes.
The next message was from Claire Trent.
He was about to text back saying the more time he spent texting the later he would be, but decided it would not be a good idea. Better to be on time.
The last text was from Eve.
Followed by three emojis: a dancing heart, a smiley face and an ape picking its nose. He checked the time. Seconds after he had dropped her off at school this morning.
He texted back.
He was hopeless at emojis so he just added a small smiley face as it was the easiest to do. She wouldn’t see the text till after school, but at least it would be waiting for her.
He checked the time on his phone. Time to pick up Dave Connor.
He needed twenty more hours in each day.