Web of Lies, Sally Rigby [list of e readers .TXT] 📗

what they were? He didn’t want to play all his cards at once, in case he did have to go higher.

‘It seems to me that your cousin is clutching at straws because she’s finding it hard to deal with such a tragic situation. Tragic on so many levels.’

She wasn’t wrong. Even if his death turned out to be suspicious, it didn’t change the fact that he’d ruined so many lives in pursuit of a good life for himself.

‘Maybe she is,’ he admitted, allowing his uncertainty to show. ‘But, nevertheless, I promised to look into it for her. Will you help me or not?’

‘Give me your number and I’ll get back to you.’

‘When? I’m not staying long.’ What he didn’t want was for her to put his request to the bottom of the pile. He needed the information straight away … if not sooner.

‘Don’t push it just because you used to be inspector, and I’m a lowly DC.’

He coughed to hide the laugh which had erupted from his throat.

‘I have no rank to pull. And even if I did, it’s not the way I operate.’

‘I’ll check out a few things and phone you later this morning. Take it or leave it.’

‘Thank you,’ he said, giving her his number and ended the call.

He detected interest in her voice and that could only be a positive thing.

Whether she’d let him have the report, however, remained to be seen.

Birdie replaced the phone after her conversation with ex-Detective Inspector Clifford and stared at it. Was he really from the Met? He could be anyone. She wasn’t going to consider helping until she knew more about him.

She googled his name and her jaw dropped. Bloody hell. He was royalty. There were photos of his dad, a viscount, standing next to the Queen. There was also an article about his family which mentioned Sebastian being in the force. What the hell was the son of a viscount doing being a police officer, or even an ex-police officer?

She opened more of the results on the screen. This was interesting. He was part of a special squad, tasked with investigating fraud overseas, that had been disbanded after being compromised by one of its members. Was it him?

Was he fired, or did he resign?

Could he be trusted?

She was in enough trouble as it was, without adding to it.

Her gut told her that he was genuine. And it rarely let her down.

Should she show him the file? She was bored to death at the moment. The phone had hardly rung and the filing was up to date. She went over to the cabinet and pulled out a buff-coloured folder which contained everything there was on Donald Witherspoon’s suicide. She hadn’t been involved in the case as the body had been found on her day off. Except it could hardly be called a case, considering how little work it entailed.

The file was thin. A few scribbled notes. Copies of interviews with the wife, the family who found the body, and the suicide note. No witnesses? That would be most unusual at Foxton Locks.

Surely it wouldn’t hurt to let Clifford look at it. Then again, she didn’t want to get herself in trouble with Sarge, which she would if he found out. But why would he?

With Clifford’s experience, he wouldn’t take up the case unless he was convinced there was something not right.

Birdie pursed her lips as an idea popped into her head.

Could she get away with it? Yeah, of course she could.

She’d help Clifford with his investigation. That way, if it did turn out to be murder and she was involved in solving it, she could say goodbye to desk duty. If it did turn out to be nothing, then no one need know that she’d helped him. She had nothing to lose. It was a win-win situation.

She copied the contents of the file and then phoned him. First making sure that no one was around to hear.

‘Clifford,’ he answered almost immediately.

‘It’s DC Bird. I’ve decided to help you.’

There was a long pause. Had he hung up?

‘I don’t recall requesting your help, I asked for a file,’ he finally said.

She hadn’t expected this reaction. He should’ve jumped at the chance to have some assistance. Well he’d got it whether he wanted it or not.

‘The file and I come as a job lot. Take it or leave it.’

‘What about your work?’ he responded almost immediately.

‘I’ll fit it in around my shifts.’

Would that be possible? Sleep was overrated, anyway.

‘Can you get hold of the coroner’s report for me?’

‘I have a contact there who might be able to assist.’

To refer to him as a contact was a bit of a stretch. She’d had a drunken fumble in the pub car park where they’d held the police Christmas party last year, with a guy who worked there. She’d persuade him to let her see it.

‘Excellent. When can I have the documents?’

‘Meet me at seven tonight at the Red Lion pub in Little Bowden. The food’s good and you can shout me dinner.’

Did he just laugh? It would be a small price to pay for her help.

‘As you wish, DC Bird. I will meet you at the pub and dinner will be on me. What’s your first name? I can’t call you DC Bird all the time.’

‘Lucinda.’ She cringed at the sound of her name which she despised. ‘My name’s Lucinda. But use it even once and you’ll regret it forever.’

‘Noted. So what do I call you?’

‘Birdie’s just fine.’

‘In that case, Birdie, I look forward to meeting you this evening. And you may call me Seb.’

‘Yes, m’lord.’ Ooops. Did she just say that out loud?

‘Excuse me?’

‘Nothing. I’ll see you later. You’ll recognise me by the hair. It’s red and wild.’

She ended the call before insulting him further.

The day might have started off badly, but now things were looking up.

Chapter 8

6 May

Seb drove out to Little Bowden, which was on the outskirts of Market Harborough. He’d intended on bringing Elsa, thinking they could eat outside,