Dead on Arrival (A DI Frank Lyle Mystery)

Prologue

Prologue

Martyn Taylor sighed deeply. His dark uniform was soaked through and he looked forward to the end of his shift, which was unfortunately about seven hours in the future. The rain beat down reflecting the bright moonlight. It was a cold heavy rain and offered no cheer to anyone caught in its cold fury. Martyn hated night shifts, despite the double time pay. Mid February nights dragged, especially when nothing ever happened. But he was the boy in the Ashbeck Division of Her Majesty's Customs & Excise so had drawn the short straw for all the unpopular shifts. He had been a member of the team for five months and sensed that his lack of a wife and family predisposed him more to night shifts than his relative inexperience. This new surveillance he was on was designed to root out bootlegging operations and had been named "Operation Cerberus." 

"Anything happening, Martyn?" his partner and mentor Charlie Harding asked. Charlie was an older thickset man in his late fifties. Recently widowed he was more than happy to take the night shift as it meant not having to be in the empty house he had shared for more than thirty years with his wife, Louisa. They had been unable to have children so the emptiness in his life seemed starker and lonelier than that of widowed friends on whom offspring doted.  

"Same as usual," Martyn rubbed his hands and stamped his feet in order to try and generate some warmth, "I don't know why they want us to patrol this area, nothing ever happens." 

"Orders," Charlie replied. 

"Charlie, is the operation named after that three-headed dog from Greek mythology, the one who guarded the Underworld?" 

"Yep, the very same and meeting just one ferocious dog of an evening might make things more interesting." 

"Why do you do it then?" 

"I don't like being at home right now," Charlie replied. 

"I'm sorry, I forgot." Martyn apologised. 

"No harm done," 

They were at a motorway services truck stop some ten miles outside of Ashbeck. The access road was poorly lit and sheltered by trees 

"What do you think happened to Katja Serinova?" Martyn asked. 

Katja Serinova, an eighteen-year-old Russian student had been seen on New Year's Day getting into a HGV driven by a rough looking man, she had not been seen since. Ashbeck Police's Missing Person's enquiry was shelved, as the trail seemed to have gone cold. 

Charlie shrugged. 

"I've no idea, Martyn. She could either be back home or dead in a ditch somewhere." 

They stiffened as they saw headlights penetrate the gloomy darkness. The moon had drifted behind thick clouds. They had two uniformed police officers with them as they had the authority to make a vehicle stop should anything be suspected. The two officers were younger than Charlie would have liked, but he had been assured that Police Sergeant Liam Sharp and Police Sergeant Steven Goodwin were experienced and knew their stuff. They seemed glad to be relieved of traffic duties 

The vehicle was a white LGV. It seemed to be veering from side to side a bit. 

Martyn and Charlie looked at each other. Was the driver drunk? If so they would have to detain him and call the police, by which time the alcohol would have passed from his system making them look foolish. 

"Leave it to me," Goodwin said. He held up his hands and the LGV screeched to a halt on the narrow wet road. 

Martyn, who was about five inches taller, reached up and tapped on the driver's window. They could faintly hear the mechanism as he wound down the window. A man with a seven o'clock shadow wound it down.