The Dark Web Murders

CHAPTER FIVE

Tuesday, 14th August. Morning 

"Pull over there, Stewart," Sheehan ordered. 

"Double yellow line, Chief?" 

Sheehan reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a rectangular plastic placard which bore the message, POLICE ON DUTY,and threw it on the windscreen shelf. "Let's go," he said, door already opening before Stewart had finished parking the car. 

Striding across the footpath, Sheehan was soon on the walkway leading to the Royal Courts of Justice, Stewart almost running to catch up with him.Neither took time to admire the impressive building, with its imposing façade and giant Corinthian columns, as they hurried to the large entrance and went into the central hall. Stewart had been here a few times before but she never failed to experience a degree of awe as she traversed the long interior hall, thirty feet high, with its floor-to-ceiling panelling of Travertine marble. 

Sheehan paused briefly. "Which floor?" 

"Second, sir." 

Sheehan strode off again, heading for the stairs. He couldn't be bothered waiting for a lift that would probably be too full to admit them anyway. He climbed the first flight of steps with ease before an abrupt reminder from the sciatic nerve in his right hip caused him to wince.Dammit! He strove to show no sign of the sudden pain, pausing casually as =if deciding to wait for his sergeant who was several steps behind him.Keeping his voice as level as he could, he said, "Where exactly is the judge's office?" 

"On the next floor, sir. If my laptop check was accurate, it should be the third door on the right."

 "Okay, Stewart. You lead. Here's me rushing on and I haven't a clue where I'm going." 

Stewart remained straight-faced as she went on ahead. Sheehan stared after her, still waiting for the spasm to pass, wondering if she knew about his sciatic hip. It was, to him, a weakness, and he hated that. He figured she had probably seen enough winces, heard enough soft gasps, to have alerted her to his problem. But if she did know, she gave him no sign. His mind flashed briefly to Allen, but he shook his head imperceptibly. No, she stays.Loyalty like that? You keep it close. He made it to the second floor with gritted teeth, but by the time he got to the office of Judge Kenneth Adams,the pain had subsided. 

Judge Adams was a slight man, almost emaciated. The wrist that appeared from his jacket sleeve as he reached out to shake hands with the two detectives was almost skeletal. He had a full head of grey hair and heavy sideburns almost halfway down the side of his cheeks, but these did little to hide the narrowness of his face or the thin, aquiline nose. The eyes that peered out from beneath shaggy, grey eyebrows, however, were as sharp as a hunting hawk's.His voice too, when he gestured to a couple of chairs in front of his desk and invited them to sit, was surprisingly crisp. When they were settled,he said, "And how can I be of help to you, Chief Inspector?" 

"Thank you for seeing us, Judge," Sheehan said, "and please accept our condolences on the loss of your colleague, Judge Neeson." 

Judge Adams nodded solemnly and said, "Thank you." 

"In fact," Sheehan went on, while Stewart placed her notebook on her knee, with ballpoint pen in readiness, "I'm afraid it's your colleague's death that has brought us here today. I understand that you were at his house on the evening of his demise?" 

The judge sat back on his chair and gave the detective a long and penetrating stare before replying, "Yes, I was there that evening, but both myself and several colleagues were long gone before anything ... ah ...untoward occurred." 

"I understand, Judge," Sheehan said, his tone conciliatory, "but you will doubtless appreciate that we are obliged to interview everyone who was there and ask a few basic questions ... for the purpose of elimination from suspicion, if nothing else."