Broken Fall: A D.I. Harland novella Read Free Page A

flickering across to Harland.
    ‘I know,’ she murmured to her husband. ‘But it’ll be all right.’
    Harland shuffled awkwardly as she stared at him, as though he was somehow trespassing on a private moment. He looked down and frowned, dismissing his discomfort by thinking of other things.
If they hadn’t known Albert was dead, what had brought them here so late?
He decided to approach the issue indirectly, with an oblique question.
    ‘Have you come far?’
    ‘No,’ Richard replied, straightening up and sniffing. ‘We live down on Spike Island.’
    There was no hesitation in his answer. Spike Island was just a couple of minutes away …
but what were they doing here now?
    Amanda extricated herself from her husband’s arms and drew herself up to address Harland.
    ‘The people from Help Line left us a message about the alarm being activated,’ she explained, then turned back to Richard. ‘But we were watching a DVD together; we didn’t hear the phone.’
    Richard stared at her, his expression stricken, then he bowed his head with a muffled sob.
    ‘It’s all right,’ Amanda soothed, as she patted his shoulder.
    Harland watched them thoughtfully. Was he seeing remorse? Regret, for words not said? Or was there something else?
    ‘Look,’ he sighed. ‘I appreciate this must have been a terrible shock for you both, but there’s really nothing more that you can do tonight …’
    Richard’s head snapped up.
    ‘I want to know what happened,’ he demanded. ‘I
have
to know …’
    ‘I understand.’ Harland nodded slowly. ‘Listen, I’ll try and pop round to see you tomorrow – or today, rather – and we can talk more then. Lawson will take down your address. Is that all right with you?’
    ‘Of course,’ Amanda replied. ‘And thank you.’
    Putting an arm around her husband, she gave him a gentle squeeze and began turning towards the gate. But Richard froze.
    ‘Oh
shit
, what about Jenny?’ He looked at his wife with new anguish.
    ‘Who’s Jenny?’ Harland asked.
    ‘Richard’s sister,’ Amanda replied. ‘Poor thing, has she been told?’
    Harland remembered the photograph, the boy and the girl – Richard and Jenny.
    ‘We haven’t contacted her yet. Would you like me to …?’ He left the question hanging.
    Richard glanced across at him with a flicker of hope, then sagged and shook his head.
    ‘No, better she hears it from family,’ he managed, then faltered and turned to his wife. ‘Dammit all, should we drive over there now? Or phone her? What are you meant to
do
in these situations?’
    Amanda took her husband’s arm and steered him towards the gate.
    ‘Call her from the car, Richard. I can drive …’ She glanced back over her shoulder. ‘Thank you, Inspector.’
    ‘I’ll be in touch,’ Harland replied. He watched them as they made their way back across the cobbled driveway, and gave the nod to Lawson, who stood aside to let them pass into the street. Then, allowing himself the yawn he’d been stifling, he turned to look at the house. It was a nice-looking property; the last sort of place you’d expect to discover a murder. But he was certain that Albert Errington’s death wasn’t an accident. And he was going to find out who was responsible.

Chapter 3
    Harland switched off the engine and peered out through the windscreen. Little Cross House was anything but little – a grey, sixteen-storey tower block, jutting up to loom over the cramped terraced houses of Southville. An open swathe of rough grass and concrete encircled it – like a huge impact crater, as though the enormous structure had been dropped from the sky.
    He put a hand over his mouth and yawned deeply. Last night had run late, but he’d woken early this morning, eager to advance the investigation. And this was a good place to begin. Getting out, he locked the car and started across the residents’ car park, counting the succession of ‘No Ball Games’ signs lining the way. He shook his head. In his