PI Kate Brannigan Series Books 1-3: Dead Beat, Kick Back, Crack Down

That’s not the kind of message you argue with. Not if your boss is a foot taller than you.

Chapter 21 (#ulink_9605016c-9689-5968-8cca-e6b58c445fc6)

I made it back to the office in record time. The driver of the traffic car I’d zipped past at 110 m.p.h. had clearly been convinced he’d been hallucinating since he didn’t get on my tail with sirens blasting. I dumped the car on a single yellow outside the chemist’s shop, left the note that says, ‘picking up urgent prescription’ on the dashboard and hit the stairs running.

I burst through the outer door, red-faced and sweating. Very chic. Shelley looked me up and down and shook her head in a mockery of disapproving motherhood. ‘Three deep breaths,’ she told me. ‘Then you’re wanted in there.’ She gestured with her head at Bill’s closed office door.

‘What’s going on?’ I demanded in a stage whisper. I know just how thin the walls in this place are.

‘The cops raided Billy Smart’s warehouse this morning. The place was clean as a whistle,’ Shelley replied, her voice so low I had to lean close and risk my crowns on her Rasta beads.

‘Oh shit,’ I sighed. ‘So who … ?’

‘Bill’s having a post-mortem with Clive Abercrombie from the jewellers’ group and DI Redfern. He’s been stalling them till you got here.’

Some days I wish I did something simple for a living. Like brain surgery. I flashed a hopeless smile at Shelley, made a throat-cutting gesture and headed for the Spanish Inquisition.

Tony Redfern was sitting on the broad window sill, looking more like a depressed golden retriever than ever. Wavy blond hair, soulful brown eyes, drooping mouth. For all I knew, a wet nose too. He nodded gloomily as I entered. Clive Abercrombie leapt smartly to his feet and inclined his head towards me, every inch the Eton and New College gentleman. You’d never have guessed he was actually educated at a secondary modern in Blackpool followed by Salford Tech.

‘Sorry to drag you back, Kate,’ Bill said. ‘But we really did need your expertise here.’ Translation: Someone’s going to come out of this looking like a prize asshole, and it’s not going to be us.

‘I was only down the road. Just routine,’ I said.

Tony grinned. ‘Giving Cliff Jackson a headache, so I hear.’

‘The feeling’s mutual, Tony,’ I replied, returning the grin. I’ve known Tony since he was a DS on the burglary squad. He’s one of the few coppers I have any professional respect for. ‘Is there some kind of a problem with the Smarts?’

‘That would be one way of putting it,’ said Clive, stuffy as ever. ‘It would appear that when Inspector Redfern and his colleagues from the Trading Standards department executed their warrant on Mr Smart’s warehouse premises, they drew a blank.’ See what I mean? You’d never guess.

I looked questioningly at Tony. He nodded, looking as if he’d just lost the five closest members of his family. ‘He’s not wrong. We’d had a team watching the place all day, and not a sausage came out that front door. There’s no back entrance, no side entrance. The place was clean, Kate. Billy and Gary stood there watching us with a grin on their faces like a pair of Cheshire cats. I don’t know where you got your info, but it’s a duffy.’