The room, like the reception foyer, was covered with photos of developments. Amongst these were framed certificates, citations and awards. Statuettes sat on a shelf over the filing cabinets, in front of photos of Balchunas shaking hands with politicians and celebrities. He looked the same in every photo – beamingly thrilled to be there; they looked the same in every photo – bemused and startled.Balchunas fidgeted. He couldn’t get comfortable, shuffling round on the seat, making the leather squeak. He picked things up off the desk, played with them, put them down again. He fiddled with cuffs, the edges of his shirt. In response, Mickey sat as still as possible. Waited.‘I can’t give you long, I’m afraid, Detective … I’m sorry, what was your name again?’‘Detective Sergeant Philips. That’s all right, Mr Balchunas, I won’t need long. Just a couple of questions.’‘Fire away.’ His smile was shaky, his voice resigned.‘You know about the discovery at the property at the bottom of East Hill?
What do You think about Philip Brennan 03-Cage Of Bones?
