Back-Slash Read Free Page B

way round?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’ Lisa grinned and jumped to attention.
    ‘Don’t take the piss. I understand you were thrown in at the deep end yesterday. Manage OK?’
    ‘I had no problem solving the theft that turned out not to be a crime. Had a few problems with the accident victim though.’ Lisa related her experiences. She’d just finished her tale when Nash’s phone rang. He picked it up. ‘Ruth? How are you? And more importantly, where are you?’
    He looked up and made a drinking motion with his hand. Lisa nodded and left his office. Binns was in the CID room staring at a computer screen that stayed stubbornly blank. ‘Bloody computer’s on the blink.’ He scowled at the monitor. ‘Third time this week it’s been out of action. I reckon it’s caught the flu bug.’
    ‘Do you want a coffee? I’m making Mike one, for when he comes off the phone.’
    ‘Talking to one of his lady friends, is he? Or is it work?’
    ‘Someone called Ruth, so probably not work.’
    Binns laughed. ‘Think again. That would be Superintendent Edwards. She was attached to us after Tom Pratt’s heart attack, before she joined the Inspectorate of Constabulary. The chief’s got her back on a temporary secondment.’ Binns paused. ‘She’s a top-class copper.’
    ‘How did the chief get her to agree to come back?’
    ‘Power of persuasion. When she sets her mind to it, not many would have the balls to refuse her.’

    The cottage felt cold, uninviting. As soon as he opened the frontdoor he could smell the closed-up atmosphere. The door opened directly into the lounge. The room was spartan in appearance. Along one wall was a small dresser, on another, a large bookcase whose shelves were crammed with a wide selection of books. There was no television, but there was a modern music centre and a vast collection of CDs in a rack alongside. For the rest there was only a single armchair, coffee table and a standard lamp. A solitary man’s room.
    Although the drive home by taxi had tested him, Myers ignored the armchair. His priority was the Aga. Without it the cottage would remain unheated. He’d seen a weather forecast on the TV in the hospital. It was threatening a hard frost. It would be pointless surviving the chainsaw massacre only to succumb to hypothermia. Cleaning out and relighting the stove normally took ten minutes. On this occasion it was over half an hour. He was sweating slightly and felt in urgent need of a cup of tea, but knew he’d have to wait.
    He remembered a distasteful task left over from the accident and walked slowly through to the bedroom. The sheet on the single bed had been ripped to provide a makeshift dressing. Myers picked up the remnants and carried them through to the kitchen for incineration.
    He heard the engine long before Barry Dickinson reached the cottage. He opened the front door as the gamekeeper’s vehicle pulled to a halt.
    ‘Now then, Andy, how’re you doing?’
    ‘Not too bad. Did today go OK?’
    ‘Ay, well enough.’ The gamekeeper opened the Land Rover’s tailgate. Myers stepped out of the doorway and the next second a black shape hurtled past him.
    ‘She doesn’t seem tired,’ Myers commented.
    ‘Not her. I hope her tea’s ready.’
    ‘No problem. Would you like a coffee?’
    ‘I would that. Here let me do it.’ He handed Myers a foil-topped plate. ‘Your supper,’ he said by way of explanation. ‘Shirley said to warm it through.’ Myers thanked him as Barry brewed them a drink.
    The Labrador had demolished her meal, wandered over to her bean bag and lain down, head on paws. ‘Nell did you proud today,’ Barry said. ‘Sir Maurice was capped with her, and I’d someone wanting to buy her. Sean Parker also had a couple during their shooting week. He told me one bloke refused to believe Nell wasn’t his to sell, got quite shitty about it.’
    Myers looked down at the Labrador. She twitched one eyebrow and gave a perfunctory wag of her tail. ‘She doesn’t seem to