A Nuclear Reaction (An Antonia Conti Thriller) by David Beckler

Author:David Beckler [Beckler, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2023-05-23T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

Chapman stuck his head out into the main office. ‘Darren, we’re going in five, okay?’

Sanchez raised her eyebrows. ‘We’re still busy checking lorry thefts.’

‘We won’t be long. I’m seeing a potential witness to a shooting.’

‘And you need Darren because?’

He told her his destination.

‘Sensible idea, I’d take Darren.’

Chapman returned to his desk to collect his jacket. His phone vibrated, and he checked the caller. Smiling, he took the call.

‘I thought you’d be too grand for us now, after your TV appearances.’

‘Not you as well.’ Antonia sounded fed up. ‘Have you got a minute?’

‘What’s up?’ He sat.

‘You know we’re converting next door into our new offices?’

‘You inviting me to the opening?’

‘It could be a while.’ She told him about the accident.

‘You think this guy, Gareth Beynon, did it deliberately?’

‘Bloody coincidence if he didn’t. The joiners said there was something “hinky” about him—’

‘You spoken to them?’

‘Their boss, but I will, unless you . . .’

He remembered the warning Gunnerson’s replacement had given him. ‘I’m struggling at the moment . . .’

‘Of course. And I saw another guy on the site I recognised. I think he worked in the maintenance team at the GRM building when I worked there.’

Where Chapman had first met her. And where she’d knocked him on to his arse when he’d tried to arrest her. ‘Do you want me to run a check on Beynon?’

‘If you could.’

He wrote the name on the back of a receipt. ‘I’ll send you anything I find.’

‘Thanks, Russell.’

Baxter stuck his head in the door and Chapman signalled five minutes. ‘By the way, Antonia, Hughes is out.’

‘Great, have you got his contact details?’

‘He’s not answering his phone, so I’m going to pay him a visit.’

‘Can you let me know how you get on?’

‘Sure, do you want to meet for a drink later?’

‘Can I get back to you? There’s a lot happening today.’

He swallowed his disappointment. ‘Sure.’

‘This week, if you’re free.’

Cheered by the prospect, he ended the call and collected Baxter. His car’s suspension groaned when Baxter got in the passenger seat.

‘How much do you weigh, Darren?’

‘One thirty, boss. I’ve lost a bit.’

Chapman converted it. About twenty stone in old money. ‘What’s your BMI?’

‘Thirty-five. They told me I was morbidly obese.’

Chapman joined in his laughter. Baxter’s body fat levels were below ten per cent. About half a mile from their destination, Chapman pulled into the car park of a shopping centre.

He parked in sight of the security camera by the entrance. ‘We’ll walk the rest of the way.’

‘Good idea, boss.’

He opened the glove compartment and took out an extendible cosh. ‘You want one of these?’

‘Don’t believe in them.’ Baxter winked.

If he was the same size, he wouldn’t either. The properties they passed, already scruffy, grew more dilapidated. Graffiti tags covered any vertical surface and weathered plywood sheets covered broken windows. After five minutes, the flats Hughes gave as his address appeared. Low rise, with a staircase at each end leading to an open landing with the flats off it, they looked on their last legs. They approached a gaudy BMW with a bespoke paint job.

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