No Greater Love

Stephanie Cole is a girl who loves the spotlight. She will do anything to get it, anything at all. But when suspicions arise about her life and her being the cause for a former teachers suicide she is all too quick to run from her love of the light. But when she is reported missing it falls to Detective Inspector Henry Quinton and his DC Wilson Drake to find her before something terrible happens. Soon St. Grandorf's school for girls is back to normal and Stephanie is home again yet when she is found murdered there are a number of suspects for Quinton to look at before he can find the true perpetrator of this terrible crime....


17. We find out where Quinton actually went…

Chapter Seventeen:

We find out where Quinton actually went…


It was a great shock to the Detective to hear of his best friend’s intentions of leaving for Edinburgh. It was also a disappointment, he had realised that Drake had in fact been lying to him for a number of weeks now. About three weeks previously Drake had been persuaded by Quinton to try and become a Detective Sergeant. However, what Quinton didn’t know was that when Drake had gone to Portsmouth for his training he was actually enrolling onto a course of becoming a Detective Inspector. He had then come back claiming that the course had been too difficult for him and that he wouldn’t be suited to try and go for the promotion that was on offer. Of course it now became clear to Quinton that his Constable had said this because he was already applying for the job in Edinburgh. Yes, he was disappointed. He would have rather had Drake tell him straight off about his intentions rather than keep it secret. But then again, it would have probably been that Quinton wasn’t exactly in the mood for talking at that time. It had only been within a week or so of Chief Superintendent Cencock’s funeral. So Quinton could see perhaps why Drake wouldn’t have wanted to talk about it at that point. But still it remained that Quinton was saddened by what he had just learned. But then again, there wasn’t much that he could do about it was there? No, Drake was his own man and of course was entitled to do whatever he should want to do without having to take to Quinton for approval.


He sat in the pub for another hour. He had already drunk two pints and a whisky before realising that that was probably enough to have had in a normal working day, more than enough for today, he had important business to attend to. But he needed some help. But who from? Drake? Probably not today. Was there anybody else? Not really, so today it was down to him and him alone.

He had never particularly enjoyed the snow. However, now as an adult he had began to see how beautiful even the smoggiest and dirtiest city could look when it was wrapped in a blanket of crisp white snow. He now enjoyed peering through his window on an evening to watch some of the young children as they ran and slid and throw snowballs at one another across the frozen cobbles; it was always something that made him smile. But as he walked up towards the large grey building he realised that perhaps there were indeed some areas of a large, smoggy and dirty city that couldn’t be ever deemed as beautiful even at the best efforts of the aforementioned soft white blanket of snow.


It was nice to be in the slightly warmer corridors of the building; however they weren’t so warm that the Inspector could remove his coat and scarf. He waited for what felt like an age before finally hearing the ear-drum bursting screech of a large, heavy iron door being opened. He saw two men on the “horizon” that was the length of the corridor. One man stood with great pride and his footsteps echoed throughout the empty grey corridor. The other man however seemed to shuffle, he had a slight limp and he kept his head downwards so as to face the grey concrete floor. The iron shackles covering his ankles and his wrists. He seemed skinny, skinnier than the last time that Quinton had seen him. At had been at the identity parade about one month ago when Stephanie Cole had accused the man of…well, you know what of. Soon the two men came into full view and Quinton felt obliged to stand. The prison warden shoved the skinny man forward before shaking Quinton rather roughly by the hand.

“This is the one you want Inspector.” He had a thick Lancashire accent, much like that of Dr. Bradley Horseman, Quinton’s “friend” and local pathologist.

“Thank you officer.” Quinton smiled.

“There’s a room just to the left that you can use if you want?” The officer pointed towards the rather obvious bright yellow door, the only speck of colour in the entire building as far as Quinton was aware of.


“I’ll get straight to the point Mister Grahams.” Said Quinton.

“What now, has she managed to pull the strings to get me to the gallows?” mumbled Scruffy.

“I don’t think that you did anything.” Quinton smiled.

The skinny shackled man looked up in amazement. Quinton knew that the man was a man of God, as he had seen him holding his bible so desperately at the identity parade. However, the Inspector seemed to believe that the man was beginning perhaps to lose his faith. But of course he couldn’t be sure.

“I’ve met the type of people to which you have been branded under before. You don’t seem to me as that type of person.” Quinton took off and cleaned his spectacles. The man shook a little in the cold.

“Why would she do such a thing?” The man asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve only met her the once, I haven’t even properly spoken to her.” Exclaimed the Inspector.

“All I wanted to do was to make sure that she was safe. That she didn’t fall into the wrong hands.” Scruffy once again looked down towards the cold, hard, concrete floor.

“I only need to know one thing.” Quinton sat down directly opposite to the scraggy, skinny man. The man starred straight into Quinton’s eyes.

“Are you a man of God Inspector?” He asked.


“I thought not. You can always tell, by the eyes. Yours are still clouded, unclear, not knowing what or who to trust in.”

“Believe me Mister Grahams. I did trust in a person once, even he through it into my face.” Quinton sighed.

“What do you want to know Inspector?” Asked Scruffy.

Quinton cleared his throat and straightened himself up; he starred straight at Mister Grahams. His eyes cold and merciless.

“Mister Grahams, What actually happened that day?” He asked.


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