Caring For Justice

By M. A. Comley

A Justice novella featuring the original cast members, yes, Pete is back!

DI Lorne Simpkins and her partner, Pete Childs have one of their toughest cases to crack in this fast paced novella. 

Someone is intent on attacking pensioners in their own homes. Can Lorne and Pete put an end to these heinous crimes? Or will someone else intervene to give the investigation a helping hand?

• Language: English
• Publisher: M A Comley
• Release date: Jul 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393536437

M. A. Comley

I am a British author. I moved to France around ten years ago, and that's when I turned my hobby into a career. I'm fortunate to be represented by New York agent Richard Curtis. I share my home with two crazy dogs that like nothing better than to drag their masterful leader (that's me) around the village. I hope you enjoy reading my books, especially the Justice series, Cruel Justice, Impeding Justice,Final Justice,Foul Justice and the newest addition, Guaranteed Justice. Ultimate Justice is due out in Feb 2013. If you'd like to keep up to date with new releases you can find me on facebook by following this link http://www.facebook.com/pages/Mel-Comley/264745836884860 If you fancy a lighter read, why not try one of my romances: A Time to Heal, and A Time for Change--Based on a TRUE story. I also have a selection of short stories and novelettes available which I know you'll enjoy. You can find out more about me at the following blogs. http://melcomley.blogspot.com http://melcomleyromances.blogspot.com  

Book preview

1

H ave a good evening, Ted.

He waved at Mick, his co-worker at the factory, and sighed a relieved breath to be going home after a long twelve-hour shift stuck on the production line. His vision was still blurry. His job entailed watching millions of bottles whizz by him at fifteen miles per hour. His role was to check for any imperfections or slight chips in the glass. No mean feat with the amount that hurtled past him every day.

Ted wound his way down the long road, walking towards his gran’s house. She was eighty-five and lived alone now that his grandfather had passed away. Ted tried to visit her regularly— he wished he could do more, but his low wages meant that he had to supplement his income either by doing long overtime shifts or working down at his local pub a few nights behind the bar.

Gran, I’m here.

Ted, Ted, is that you, dear? His gran’s croaky voice filtered into the hallway from the lounge at the rear of her bungalow.

He poked his head around the door of the lounge and smiled. It is. Want a cuppa?

That would be lovely. I can’t remember the last time I had a drink.

He shook his head, mortified that his gran’s memory appeared to be getting worse with each passing day. He’d toyed with the idea of moving in with her but was reluctant to give up his independence as much as she was with hers. He’d tentatively broached the subject with her a few months ago, but she’d waved away his concerns and after a while had agreed to accepting help from a carer.

Ted had sprung into action and organised a carer to visit his gran a couple of times a week. She seemed happy enough with the situation, as it meant she could stay in her own home, which was an extra bonus.

He poured the tea into the china cup and saucer she preferred to use and filled a mug he kept at her house for himself, then joined his gran in the lounge.

Here you go, petal. Just the way you like it, not too weak and not too strong, somewhere in between.

His gran smiled weakly and accepted her cup and saucer. The cup rattled noisily in her shaking hand. Ted took her drink from her again and placed it on the table beside her winged armchair. He knelt on the floor in front of her, grasping her hands in his. Gran, what’s wrong? You’re not your usual chirpy self today.

She avoided his eyes. I’m just tired, dear. Haven’t been sleeping well lately. Certain things on my mind, you know how it is.

No, I don’t. What things? Can I help?

She ignored him, her gaze cast down into her lap. Suddenly, tears dripped onto her cheeks and her woollen skirt.

His heart pounded, violently pummelling his ribcage. What is it, Gran? You can tell me.

He yanked a tissue from the box and dabbed at her tears.

I hate getting old, she complained.

Ted smiled and touched his palm to her wrinkled cheek. None of us are getting any younger, Gran. You’re doing well for your age. Is that all it is? You feeling sorry for yourself?

Her gaze met his, and she nodded, but there was something in her eyes that scared him. Oh crap, don’t say she’s ill.

Honestly? he pushed. His legs were cramping up, what with him squatting beside her chair. He stood and shook them out then sat in the chair next to her, reaching over to gather her shaking hand in his. He’d never seen her like this before. She’d always been a very confident lady. She’d been a headmistress at a girls’ school, a strict, but very fair one at that.

I’m just being silly, dear. I’m lonely and silly, that’s me nowadays.

He closed his eyes, guilt shooting through him. He did his best for her. Was it enough, though? I’m sorry, Gran. I wish I could visit more often…

Hush now. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything to you. I’m all right, most of the time.

You know you can ring me anytime, don’t you?

I do, Ted. It’s just that I don’t want to become a burden on you.

You could never be a burden.

His gran fell silent. She swallowed noisily and lifted her head to meet his gaze once more. I’m rapidly forgetting things, love. Not sure what I can do to combat that.

Forgetting what sort of things, Gran?

Like how much money I have in my purse. I went to the post office as usual on Tuesday to collect my pension—never go on Thursday, there’s always a large queue there. Sod waiting around in one of those just for a few bob.

Right, and?

Well, I nipped into the Co-op on the way home, got a few essentials to top up the cupboard to see me through, but I looked today and I only had twenty pounds left. Her brow wrinkled in her confusion.

Have you dropped your purse at all? Perhaps the money has gone down the back of the sofa or something. Do you want me to check?

No, she shouted. I haven’t dropped my purse or done anything of the sort, she stated more quietly.

Just trying to think what could have happened, Gran.

She nodded. I know you are, dear. Let’s not discuss it. I’m sure the money will come to light eventually. How was work today? Any new young ladies started there that have taken your fancy?

No, Gran.

She asked him the same question every time she saw him. He wasn’t interested in anyone from the opposite sex, never had been and never would. He was a loner, preferred living by himself. That way he didn’t have to bend over backwards to make a relationship work. What he loved doing was taking care of his gran when time permitted. She seemed really down today, and it hurt. She picked up her cup and saucer from the table. Her cuff rode up her arm to reveal a bruise on her wrist.

What’s that? He pointed.

She almost dropped her drink in the process of trying to hide the bruise. Nothing.

He relieved her of the cup and saucer, placed it back on the table and gently held her arm. She tried to tug it out of his grip, but he held firm and she winced. Guilt stabbed again.

Gran, please, let me see.

She gave up the fight and let him look at her injured wrist.

What the hell? What did you do? It was obvious to him what had happened, but he needed to hear her say the words.

I caught it getting out of the shower the other day. It’s nothing to worry about, dear. She shifted in her seat, trying to get her arm free of his hand.

Reluctantly, he let go. If someone has done this to you, Gran, I’ll have their guts for garters.

They haven’t. Don’t be concerned. I don’t want to make a fuss.

"So, someone has done this to you. Who was it? I demand to know."

His gran shook her head, and her lips turned into thin lines as she tightened them.

His voice softened, and he tried to coax the information from her. "Gran, please, I can’t help you if you won’t open