Dead Pretty: The 5th DS McAvoy Novel (DS Aector McAvoy) by David Mark Page A

impressive prisoner at HMP Full Sutton. He was sent down for armed robbery, though the charge sounds more glamorous than it was. The gun with which he held up the post office on Sculcoates Lane was plastic and came free with a magazine for primary-age kids. He ended up in the jail for violent and dangerous prisoners because he defended himself when somebody went for him in HMP Doncaster. Half throttled a prison guard who came to break up the fight. Spent the last four weeks of his sentence among killers and rapists before spilling out on parole at the tail end of last year.
    ‘Ava,’ says Gavan, lighting his cigarette and recovering some degree of composure. He looks at the ceiling as if ruminating. ‘Not sure that rings a bell. Can you give me a bit more?’
    Pharaoh gives a little laugh and turns to Jez’s other half. ‘Do you want to give his head a bang or should I?’
    Something passes between husband and wife. She gives him a look that suggests she will back him whatever he decides but that in her humble opinion, it would be wise to help.
    ‘Dead, yeah?’ Gavan asks resignedly. He purses his lips and blows out a cloud of smoke. ‘Fuck, that’s a shame. Pretty girl.’
    Pharaoh turns to McAvoy, who is staring at the small boy in front of the TV with his finger up his nose. He doesn’t even appear to have registered the newcomers in his home.
    ‘Shall we send the little lad to bed?’ asks McAvoy, softly. ‘Not ideal for young ears.’
    Mr and Mrs Gavan appear to register the presence of the youngster. ‘Bed now, Dylan,’ says his mum. ‘I’ll be up to say goodnight.’
    The little boy unpeels himself from the floor. His pyjamas are clean and he has been sitting on a newspaper. He gives both parents a small smile and says, ‘Love you,’ as he closes the door. McAvoy watches him go.
    ‘So, Ava Delaney,’ says Pharaoh brightly. ‘And can you roll me a cigarette please? I’m out.’
    McAvoy sits quietly on the chair as his boss does what she’s good at. She takes a thin cigarette from Gavan’s hands as if she is receiving a communion wafer. It’s a gesture of appreciation and acceptance. It shows Gavan that she’s not so very different from him and that she does not want to cause him any headaches. It also gives him a view down her cleavage, and a couple of other reasons to want to make her happy.
    ‘She really dead?’ he asks, lighting her cigarette with a cheap lighter. ‘You’re a DSU. Can’t be a car crash. Can’t be overdose. Somebody must have killed her. Fuck, poor cow.’
    Pharaoh nods. Picks a piece of tobacco from her lip. Settles back in the plastic chair and makes herself comfortable. Turns to Jez with a smile.
    ‘Ava. How did you know her?’
    Jez isn’t paying attention. He’s looking up again at the stain on the ceiling. Seems to be picturing the small, dark-haired girl. He shakes his head and turns his attention to McAvoy.
    ‘You find out who did it, you rip their fucking head off, yeah? She was a stroppy cow but a nice enough lass. Didn’t deserve that.’
    ‘Could you answer my colleague’s question, Mr Gavan,’ says McAvoy, staring through the short, ratty man’s face and focusing on a spot 100 yards behind the back wall.
    ‘Aye, aye,’ mutters Gavan, turning back to the warm, open face of Pharaoh. She seems happy enough, smoking her cigarette with her legs crossed and a swoop of dark hair snagged in the hoops of her earrings. Could just as well be reclining in a rocking chair at a big country house after a dinner party.
    ‘I live over the water,’ she says. ‘Grimsby way. Long way from here. I’ve got daughters. It’s a bit of a trek, to be honest, and it’s getting on for ten p.m. already. So, Jez, if you could just give us the basics I can get home and into my pyjamas and try and get a few hours before this all starts getting horribly intense and shitty in the morning. Be a darling and help us out.’
    Jez looks between the two officers and seems to decide