People who go to jail breed people who go to jail.

If you want to kill serious crime, you have to kill serious criminals!

Use your intuition. Picture how things happen, why they happen. Don’t stick rigidly to first impressions, and once you’ve read the rule book, throw it away. Better still, burn the bastard.

There was noise in the corridor outside Alice’s office; and though it was nothing of concern, they separated. Roger stood, fingers tucked into his waistcoat pockets, admiring prints on the wall that held no interest for him. The noise was Melanie, but her voice, a length of razor wire wrapped in a soufflé, eventually faded.

Yep,” Eddie said, “if you wanted a change from intelligence, then CID is the place to be.

Sometimes, hate bites so deep that killing someone else is the only way to prise the teeth out of your heart.

Eddie!” Miriam shouted. “Stop it. I’m trying to do my job, here. I’m asking for your help.”Eddie stared at her. She was almost pleading. Most gaffers didn’t want to hear your opinion outside of the crime scene. To them you were a necessary evil, an added extra; you were the heartburn after eating onions, and your opinions were never sought; your opinions were discouraged, drowned in Pepto Bismal.

Both eyes were open. They didn’t have fear in them, no terror. No scream. But they had something in them that Eddie recognised. They wore regret like an old overcoat, as if taking cover in the emotion… no, no, they wore regret like a comfy pair of slippers, like it was good to be home in them once more. This man lived with regret like it was his wife.

No one mentioned the sad piece of tinsel, naked in places, hanging across the chimneybreast, nor that Twelfth Night was a week ago. No one mentioned the two Christmas cards on the mantelpiece. No one mentioned them because inside they were blank.