DCI Isaac Cook Box Set 2

cameras in here?’
‘Only in reception.’
‘We’ll need the video.’
‘It hasn’t worked for six months, and it’s not me, it’s the management. They don’t want to waste the money.’
‘Someone came into this hotel and killed two people. Did you see anyone suspicious?’
‘There’s always one or two that look suspicious, but they come in with a local whore.’
‘These local women, where do they live, who are they? We’ll need to interview them, as well as the men they were with.’
‘Not much chance there, and they don’t sign in, just slip me the money.’
‘Your job after this becomes known?’
‘Non-existent. Yet again, a man trying to reform is forced back into crime by those upholding it.’
‘Work with me, and I’ll make sure you keep your job. How do I contact your management?’
‘To report me?’
‘No. To let them know that I’ll be giving you an assistant for a few nights and that you, as the concierge, have been more than helpful.’

Chapter 4
John Holden attempted to be busy, but he could not focus. Not only was there the distraction of his dead father, but there was also the increasing media interest in how he died, and how the man had been in bed with a woman younger than his daughter, a woman that the man’s son had come to love.
Not that there had ever been any physical contact with Helen. As she had freely admitted when John had pledged his desire to be with her, it was the father she loved, not the son.
There was a client Holden needed to deal with, a man who would require all of John Holden’s legal skills, yet he could not give the man what he wanted. He knew he should be upset over his father’s death, but he could only feel sadness for Helen, as well as the hurt he had felt when she had been found in bed with his father. James Holden, he knew, was a fraud. He had seduced his son’s one true love, even though John had confessed this love to him on more than one occasion.
Helen’s reply to John had always been the same: ‘My need of men has passed. They have only caused me problems.’ John knew it was only the talk of someone who had spent four years in jail. Helen Langdon was a woman who needed a man, a woman who needed him, but she had rejected him, discarded him as if he was an old sock.
John Holden was angry, and his anger could not be abated. He wanted to sit down and cry, he wanted to lash out, he wanted someone to pay, but the person responsible was dead. He had never been fooled by his father, an eccentric who went around preaching goodness and love and family values, yet couldn’t keep his trousers on if there was an attractive woman nearby. And it wasn’t as if the man was handsome, not like the son. Holden got up from where he was sitting and stood in front of a mirror in his office in Mayfair. He studied his features. ‘Perfection,’ he said out loud. So loud that his personal assistant in the other room knocked on his door. ‘Are you alright, Mr Holden?’
‘Fine, thank you,’ he replied. He straightened his tie, dabbed at the moistness around his eyes, and opened the door to the other room. ‘I’ll see my next client now,’ he said.
***
Seth Caddick did not like DCI Isaac Cook, the senior investigating officer in Homicide at Challis Street. He needed to remove him from his position and to bring in his man, someone who would respect him, the same way he respected Commissioner Davies.
Caddick, a realist, knew that Isaac was competent, but he was not his police officer, he was the former superintendent’s, the high and mighty Richard Goddard, a man who could play the political game as well as he could. A man who had succeeded because he had been friendly with the previous commissioner, Lord Shaw, and now Cook, Goddard, and Shaw were plotting to bring down Alwyn Davies. Caddick knew he had to do his part; he had to get rid of Cook.
‘Watch out for Cook, the man’s no fool,’ Alwyn Davies had said in his office at Scotland Yard the previous day. ‘Caddick, you’re my man, and I’ll protect you, but you’re not up to the standard required for a superintendent.’
‘I thought I was doing a good job,’ Caddick had protested.
‘You’re not listening. You’ve succeeded well enough by claiming credit for others’ work. No problem in itself, it happens all the time. Politicians claim they fixed the economy when the previous government had put in place the plans for recovery. I’ve claimed credit for the previous commissioner’s efforts, and you’ve claimed credit from Goddard and Cook.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘The honeymoon period’s over. It’s up to you to prove yourself. It’s for you to make your mark.’
‘And how am I meant to do that?’
‘You need Cook out and our man in. Cook’s good on his feet, and with an audience that’s listening, he’s believable. You’re good as well, but you don’t look as impressive as Cook. People instinctively are drawn to him.’
‘Is that an insult, sir?’ Caddick asked. He was not used to criticism, especially from Davies.
‘It’s a fact, and you’ve got to do something about it.’
‘I’m doing the best I can. We’re bringing in the results.’
‘You’re not, Cook is. Is our man ready to take over from Cook?’
‘He’s available.’
‘Then you need him, and soon. Goddard’s in the background, stirring the pot.’
‘Can’t you transfer him out?’
‘Goddard’s got powerful friends. Men who are looking for the opportunity to pounce and evict me from this office. I’ve no intention of giving them the satisfaction, and you’re not helping.’
‘If you can’t get rid of Goddard, then