Psycho Alley Read Free Page B

… a saying which had often caused him to get into trouble in the past.
    â€˜Yeah, it’s me. Just sighted Uren. Where’ve you got to?’
    â€˜Almost at Poulton-le-Fylde.’
    Henry raised his eyebrows. To get so far in such a short time she must really have been motoring. He had obviously rattled her cage. ‘Can you start heading back? He’s currently sat in a car on Queen’s Terrace, more or less opposite the ferry terminal. In a dark-coloured Astra, blue, I think. Don’t have the registered number yet. One other person on board, male, no other details. Uren is in the driver’s seat. I’m parked further up the road, facing towards the North Euston Hotel.’
    â€˜Sure it’s him?’
    â€˜As eggs,’ Henry said.
    â€˜Be with you as quick as I can.’
    Henry sat back, hoping she’d be as speedy returning as she’d zoomed away.
    The two occupants in the car continued their discussion, head to head. Henry watched all the while, speculating what subject matter required such deep discussion. Whatever it was, he hoped it would go on and on, giving him and Jane time to get into a position from which they could nab the perv; however, Henry was acutely aware that situations like these were more often than not dictated by the actions of the suspect, not the cops.
    The passenger door of the Astra opened. Henry tensed up. The second guy climbed out on to the footpath, then leaned back into the car again, said a few words, then turned away, pulled the hood of his jacket well over his head and set off into Pharos Street, which ran towards the town centre. There was something strangely discomfiting about the hood thing, which Henry could not immediately interpret.
    He got himself ready to move, thinking that Uren would now be ready to roll. He was wrong. Uren stayed where he was.
    â€˜Where’ve you got to?’ Henry asked Jane over the radio.
    â€˜Just passing Morrisons.’
    â€˜Roger.’ Only a couple of minutes away, Henry thought. We might just get lucky here.
    Just then the dark hooded figure of Uren’s passenger reappeared from Pharos Street bearing the unmistakeable carrier bag which screamed ‘takeaway!’
    Henry snorted and allowed himself a wry smile, causing his facial swelling to twinge. Clearly he would not be belly-laughing for a while.
    The passenger got back into the Astra. Again, Henry got ready, but Uren and friend were going nowhere fast; they began to feast on their fast food, making Henry’s stomach grumble jealously at the thought. He hadn’t eaten a proper meal for days. Not that a doner kebab could ever have been classified as real food, but just at that point in time, it would have hit the mark for the ravenous detective.
    â€˜They’re eating a takeaway,’ he informed Jane. ‘We could be in luck here.’
    â€˜What do you mean? Confiscate the meals?’
    â€˜Yeah, that and arrest Uren. A double-whammy. Position?’
    â€˜Just passing Freeport,’ she said, referring to the massive riverside retail outlet on the outskirts of town.
    â€˜When you hit the roundabout, carry straight on, then as Dock Street bends into Queen’s Terrace, pull in. They’re parked just before Pharos Street. You know it?’
    â€˜Yeah, gotcha.’
    It seemed to take forever before the set of headlights belonging to Jane’s car appeared in Henry’s mirror, then stopped at the side of the road about seventy-five metres behind Uren, and were then doused. She had arrived.
    â€˜OK – what’s the plan now?’
    Always a good question, Henry thought. ‘Simple: pincer movement, sort of,’ he said. ‘You come up from behind, I’ll saunter down from here. Uren doesn’t know me, so we ought to be OK. By the time we meet up we should be at his car. You do the passenger door and I’ll slide across for the driver’s door and ignition keys.’
    â€˜Sounds