The Dog Collar Murders Read Free Page B

patrolmen ran to their cars.
    Angel dived into his pocket and pulled out a mobile phone. He tapped a number into it. It was soon answered.
    ‘PC Ahmed Ahaz, sir.’
    ‘Ahmed. I’m in a private car park on Almsgate. It’s empty. It was all locked up. Had to force open outside doors. The offices are unoccupied . It’s that narrow little twisty lane at the back of Western Avenue … a sort of service road. I want some transport urgently to take two men to hospital. Phone Transport. Speak to Sergeant Mallin. Also, I want you to contact Don Taylor in the SOCO office and tell him I want him down here pronto, to look at a security van that’s been hijacked. All right?’
    ‘Right, sir.’
    Angel closed the phone and shoved it in his pocket. He glanced at the sad excuse for a van. There was very little bodywork that was unmarked. All the windows were shattered. The front wheels were at unseemly angles. Wisps of smoke were still filtering out of the black hole in the back. A trickle of water was running down the car park from its radiator.
    He went back up to the two FSDS men.
    ‘The van safe is empty. How much was in there?’ he said.
    ‘Over four million,’ the driver replied.
    Angel frowned then shook his head. After a moment, he said, ‘It’s a lot of money to be dragging around the streets. Was it all paper money?’
    ‘Yes. All sterling paper currency, fifties, twenties, tens and fivers. All used notes. No coins,’ the driver said. ‘It’s not usually that much. It’s because people have spent their Christmas money and because of the sales, I expect.’
    ‘No chance of finding out any numbers on any of the notes?’
    The driver shook his head. ‘Sorry. It was all used notes.’
    Angel wrinkled his nose. ‘Yes. Mmm,’ he said. He went quiet for a few moments, then he said, ‘Did you hear any of the villains speak?’
    ‘One of them told us to come into this corner, to take off our helmets and lie on the ground,’ the driver said.
    ‘Did you recognize any accent?’
    ‘I never noticed. I had a lot on my mind. It all happened faster than it takes to tell it.’
    ‘Must have been local or Yorkshire anyway. You would have noticed if it was Cockney or Irish or something like that, wouldn’t you?’
    ‘I suppose I would.’
    His mate said, ‘I heard one man call out instructions to the others to fill a case. I suppose he meant them to put the money in it.’
    Angel’s face brightened. ‘You mean in a suitcase?’
    ‘I don’t know. Could have been.’
    Angel’s eyes narrowed and he rubbed his chin. ‘A suitcase,’ he said. Then, suddenly, he reached into his pocket, took out his mobile, ran down his directory, found the name PC John Weightman and clicked on it.
    A few seconds later, a voice answered, ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘John. Where are you?’
    ‘Bus station, sir. Nothing suspicious to report.’
    ‘Witness says one of the men could be carrying a suitcase, John.’
    ‘A suitcase?’ Weightman said.
    ‘Take a look at the rail station next door. A suitcase might blend better in a railway station.’

TWO
    Detective Inspector Angel’s office, Police Station, Bromersley, South Yorkshire, UK. 3 p.m., Monday, 11 January 2010
    T here was a knock at the door.
    ‘Come in,’ Angel called.
    It was DS Carter, one of Angel’s two sergeants. She had joined his team six months earlier. He much preferred men on his team but Flora Carter had proved herself to be both intelligent and brave, so he forgave her for smelling sweetly of soap, frequently wearing a smile and for being invariably optimistic.
    ‘You wanted me, sir?’ she said.
    ‘Aye. Where’s Trevor Crisp?’
    ‘Don’t know, sir. Haven’t seen him.’
    Angel wasn’t pleased. DS Crisp, his other sergeant, always seemed to be missing when there was an emergency. He was also remarkably good at providing excuses.
    ‘The patrolmen I sent out round the town looking for the robbers are now phoning in,’ Angel said. ‘Not
one
of them has seen