DETECTIVE HILLARY GREENE BOOKS 1–5 five absolutely gripping crime mysteries box set by Faith Martin

Author:Faith Martin [MARTIN, FAITH]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Books crime thrillers and suspense box sets
Published: 2021-02-13T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

Gregory Innes turned into a small cul-de-sac on Nuneaton’s northernmost boundary and cut the engine. Now this was more like it. Houses, shops, streets, gardens. No barbed wire fences, cowshit or railway embankments here. Even now it made him break out in a cold sweat when he remembered being chased by that mad farmer and that crazy female cop.

Detective Inspector Hillary Greene.

Since she’d chased him, almost into the path of an oncoming train, Gregory had been learning all about DI Greene, and what he’d learned hadn’t exactly filled him with joy and inner serenity. Word had it, around those in the know, that she had a good nose on her and all the leniency of a pit bull on downers. And a good copper’s nose was the last thing he wanted poking around in his business — especially now that he’d finally struck pay dirt.

He slid his lanky frame out of his rusting second-hand Volvo, and once again checked out the house. The first time he’d come here, nearly three months ago now, he hadn’t paid it all that much attention, except to ascertain that anyone living here could afford to pay for his services. Mock-Tudor in style. Good garden, clean windows. There had to be a reasonable amount of money here sure, but not, he supposed glumly, huge gobs of it. Which was just typical of his luck. A perfect blackmail opportunity had come his way, but how much would they really be good for?

Vivian Orne, the wife, was an aerobics and dance-class instructor as well as part-owner of a local gym. She brought in enough readies to help pay the mortgage on this place, run a nice new Mini and put her kids into a good school, but she was not exactly Rockefeller. Likewise her hubby was the proud owner of a garage that also sold second-hand cars. A nice little earner, no doubt. Perhaps he could ask for two thousand a month? They’d cough up that much, surely? After all, they had their own lives to think about — not to mention the happiness of their one remaining kid, the little girl he’d seen the last time he’d been here.

He could take a nice holiday for a change. Play the gee-gees maybe. Kick back and relax a bit. Wait a few months, then up it to three thousand. And there was still the doctor. He’d be good for another thousand a month easy. Probably more. He’d have to check around and see how much GPs earned. All his life, Gregory had been a grifter, with nothing coming easy. It was time he had a slice of the pie. Nervous, but determined, he walked up the garden path and rang the doorbell.

* * *

Tommy watched Max Finchley shrugging into his heavy black duffel coat. He was parked by the construction site of what was soon to provide both underground and high-level parking for the city of Oxford’s long-suffering motorists. At the moment, it looked more like a

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