Catch as Catch Can (The Merseyside Crime Series Book 1), Malcolm Hollingdrake [best large ereader .TXT] 📗

off tea.’ He quickly pointed to the other officers. ‘You stay here until you’re called. Considering the couple’s age, I’m not expecting anything but initial politeness and co-operation, but then I’ve been wrong before.’ He smiled briefly and raised an eyebrow. Ringing the bell, they stood back from the door. It opened on a security chain.

‘Mrs Brinkman? DCI Lawn.’ He held out his ID. ‘May we have a chat?’

‘It’s not Arthur, is it?’ Anxiety was immediately etched on her face.

Bob shook his head. ‘May we come in?’

The door was closed and Bob heard the chain slide before being welcomed in. ‘Goodness, my heart was all a flutter. I do worry about him.’

‘Is your husband at home?’

‘No, he went out about, let me see,’ she looked at her watch, ‘must be over an hour ago. A walk and a coffee on the seafront. His morning constitutional he always calls it. He was then going to visit a friend of his. He told me he’d not be back till later this afternoon. May I offer you some tea?’

Bob smiled. ‘No thank you. What time would that be?’

‘About ten I suppose.’

‘Ten, right. Don’t think me rude but does your husband always begin his morning constitutional by climbing over the back fence?’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand ... Back fence? Whatever do you mean Inspector? He left by the same door you entered. Back fence? You know he’s over seventy?’

‘Indeed, I do. You see, Mrs Brinkman, this officer here has been positioned outside your home since six this morning, possibly earlier, and he can assure you that no one apart from us has used that door today.’

‘Mr Brinkman opened the door to take in the milk at,’ he checked his note book, ‘7.48, sir.’

Bob smiled. ‘Thank you. The bruising to your eye looks calmer. What about the ankle, and then there’s the crutches? You seem to be managing better without them than when I last saw you. You were in the process of leaving the ship.’

The look in her eyes reflected everything she was feeling, but mainly defeat. ‘You saw me?’ She brought a hand up to her mouth, flopped onto the settee before taking a deep breath. ‘I told him, the silly man, but he wouldn’t listen.’

‘Where is he or do I have to send this officer to look for him? We know he’s somewhere on the property.’

There was a long pause. ‘He’s in the garden shed. Sorry.’

‘While we go and get him, you put the kettle on, we’ll have some tea and you can both help yourselves by telling me all you know.’

Sadiq had left the car on Effingham Street. He was greeted by the lad watching the door. The building, once a busy, large brick warehouse was now empty. Most of the external windows were sealed with steel plates. Having six floors, it was spacious. The upper floor level was illuminated by natural light. Rows of north facing windows, set at angles, ran from one end to the other. The opaque wire glass was cracked and damaged in places but secure within the iron frames. Regularly placed cast iron columns supported the roof.

‘We need to be out of here as soon as.’ Sadiq’s voice echoed within the void as heads turned but no one spoke. Working on a stainless-steel table, dressed in a white coat, gloves, mask and goggles was Doc. He was the only one who remained focused. Digital scales sat to his right alongside a neatly stacked assortment of clear plastic bags. A large roll of what appeared to be clingfilm was held on a stand. Bikes and mopeds were leaning against one of the walls. Five cardboard boxes no more than twelve inches in depth, width and height were taped shut and stacked on a separate table. Each had a Greek letter written on the side. Sadiq went over and ran his hand along them.

‘Still using Abid’s system. Gone but not forgotten. That man was truly bloody weird. Fucking geek. A, B and fucking C would do just as well.’ Looking down he counted the boxes. ‘Tidy sum there, my friends.’

He approached Doc but stopped short. Buffing was, to the man in the white coat, an exact science. There was a maximum he could go to in ensuring a balance between the best profit margin and good quality. He prided himself in doing just that every time.

‘I’ll be done by tomorrow. I’ll finish this batch and they can go. Last one tomorrow. Once this natural light begins to fade, I can do no more. Has payment been received for yesterday’s delivery?’

Sadiq just nodded. ‘Payday for you boys will only be when the last lot is shipped. Hopefully a bonus too.’

‘There’d better be and it better be an improvement on what they gave Chelle.’ Doc’s tone was flat with little feeling. ‘If not, this’ll be the last time.’ His words were cold and direct.

Sadiq frowned. ‘Let’s all do what we’re paid to do.’ He quickly left.

Kelly was sitting on a bench by the Leeds–Liverpool Canal, her bags to one side. The large coffee cup was still warm and she wrapped both hands around it. She had found this place, this oasis of calm, after hearing someone mention it in the night shelter. It comprised a small, grassy park-like space with a few benches. It seemed quiet. She had been disappointed not to see Sharon, particularly as she had informed her she had booked for another night. She unwrapped the sandwich she had bought and nibbled it. Some ducks swam enthusiastically to the side and fluttered from the water and onto the bank, all noise, splashes and optimism. She admired the drakes’ coloured plumage and their selfish pecking as an attempt to achieve some kind of order. It reminded her of the gang. Throwing some morsels into the canal, the majority turned and raced in pursuit. The noise level rose. One fowl remained and looked at her. Breaking off another piece she tossed it on the ground