UNLAWFULLY AT LARGE
A DCI TYLER THRILLER
MARK ROMAIN
Copyright © 2020 MARK ROMAIN
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Edited by Yvonne Goldsworthy
Cover design by Woot Han
I’d like to say a special thank you to my brilliant little team of test readers, Clare, David, and Darren, for all the great feedback you provided while I was writing this story.
This book is dedicated to my mother, Sheila Rose Romain, who sadly passed away on 7th January 2020.
Rest in peace, mum. We love and miss you very much.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
JACK’S BACK
THE HUNT FOR CHEN
Glossary of terms used in the Jack Tyler books
Author’s note
About the author
Turf War
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Tuesday 4th January 2000
Detective Chief Inspector Jack Tyler of the Area Major Investigation Pool sat at his desk at Arbour Square in East London and stared blankly at the computer screen in front of him.
It was a cold, wet Tuesday morning in early January, and the sky outside his window was a depressing battleship grey, which pretty much matched his mood.
Heavy sleet was falling and a fierce wind was making the old building’s windows rattle. Despite the arctic temperatures that prevailed outside, the cast iron radiator inside his office was belting out so much heat that he was beginning to feel drowsy.
The little portable radio on his window sill was playing quietly in the background, and he had just listened to Bill Withers singing Lovely Day, which was somewhat ironic because it was anything but.
The hourly news bulletin came on, and the lead story was a regurgitated piece about the TV soap star who had strangled his supermodel girlfriend at their Chelsea flat during the early hours of New Year’s Day after a cocaine-fuelled night out on the town. Having killed her, he had promptly gone on the run.
“Craig Masters, who plays loveable rogue Steve Michaels on the popular soap, Docklands,was last seen driving his Bentley over Lambeth Bridge during the early hours of New Year’s Day,” the announcer was saying in his clipped monotone. “His current whereabouts remain unknown but police are following a number of leads. A spokesperson for the award-winning programme said…”
Tyler leaned over and switched the radio off. An AMIP Team from West London had taken the job, and it was their problem, not his. He leaned back in his chair and stretched expansively. This was his first day back at work since Christmas Eve when he’d broken up for the yuletide festivities, and he was finding it really hard to motivate himself and get back into the swing of things.
It had been such a wonderful break, and so desperately needed after the gruelling caseload he’d been carrying these past few months. Since wrapping up the high-profile Whitechapel murders case in early November, the team had taken three other jobs in quick succession, a householder who had been killed and then set on fire following a dispute with his builder, a domestic, and a gangland shooting.
In dire need of some time off, Jack had driven up to the Norfolk coastline to join his parents at their country retreat in Wells-Next-The-Sea straight after work on Christmas Eve.
Over the next three days, he had eaten and drunk far too much, enjoyed a couple of wonderfully lazy afternoons curled up on the couch watching festive films on TV, and played charades and board games with the assembled family during the evenings. His elder brother, Henry, had also been there, along with his gorgeous Italian wife, Sophia, who Jack secretly thought bore an uncanny resemblance to the ‘60s actress Claudia Cardinale. She certainly had the same come-to-bed-eyes.
To the surprise of everyone in the Tyler clan, Jack had – in a moment of spontaneity the day before – invited Kelly Flowers to accompany him on the trip. With their relationship still in its infancy, Kelly had been more than a little apprehensive about meeting his family, but she needn’t have worried. Everyone had taken to her immediately, so much so that when the visit came to an end on the twenty-seventh, his parents had gushed over Kelly in a way that they never had with his ex-wife, Jenny.
“Mark my words,” Jack’s father had whispered in his ear as they’d embraced prior to Jack setting off on the long drive back to Essex, “this one’s a keeper.”
The words had resonated strongly with Jack, who suspected that his wise old dad might well be right.
Instead of partying in the New Year, as had become the annual custom since his messy divorce five years ago, Jack had arranged a romantic getaway for the pair of them in a cosy four-star hotel in the heart of the New Forest. It was a picturesque, ivy fronted Edwardian building, surrounded on all sides by pretty meadows and sprawling forests. Their luxury room had contained a working fireplace and a fancy jacuzzi, and for the next three days they had only ventured out to take invigorating afternoon walks and to enjoy their evening meals in the hotel’s Michelin rated restaurant. But, as the saying went, all good things must come to an end, and now it was time for him to get back to the grind.
As much as Jack genuinely loved his job, he was finding today’s humdrum return to normality so incredibly boring that he
