Dead Wrong: Lukas Boston - Private Investigator Book One by Logan May

Author:Logan May [May, Logan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-01-29T23:00:00+00:00

*****

Again, when he arrived back at his flat Lukas was already standing in front of the door and seeing the bullet hole as a reminder, before he realised just what an easy target he was presenting any sniper.

‘Damn,’ he said, ducking down and inserting his key in the door by reaching up.

‘Are you okay, Mr Boston?’ Irene called from her flat.

For God’s sake, did she live behind her curtains just waiting for him to come home?

‘I’ve dropped something, that’s all thank you, Irene.’

Go back inside and mind your own damned business.

‘Do you need any help?’ Plainly, she meant perhaps psychiatric or counseling, or maybe alcoholics anonymous.

‘No, I’m fine thank you, Irene.’

Lukas was really thinking that, what the hell, it might be worth asking Irene to help search for a fictitious dropped contact lens or some bloody thing. Surely no self-respecting sniper could miss such a large target?

He crawled through the door and slammed it after him.

Inside, Lukas set himself up for some heavy reading. A fresh pot of coffee held enough for several cups. The ashtray was emptied and placed close to hand. The mobile was switched off.

Trawling through all the case files and information, some of it jogged his memory, while other parts were tedious crime scene data that was tempting to ignore, but Lukas forced himself to keep reading.

Two hours later, when the coffee was failing to hold an edge and the ashtray was overflowing, Lukas stumbled across something that made him think twice. He back-tracked, checking earlier files, then figured where he needed to look further to confirm his suspicions. He felt an old familiar tingling that said he’d discovered something important. Another thirty minutes of cross-referencing and sorting out the connections and Lukas was certain.

Gavin Hucknall was a police informant.

It was a shock, and it made sense of everything. That was why Hucknall never said a word to Lukas during the interviews. Hucknall knew that in many ways he was untouchable, immune to any real prosecution and with an escape plan, if things got too crazy.

Hucknall’s contact in the police had been a veteran detective that everyone called Meatball, because he ate a fatty concoction of meatballs and cheese pasta for lunch every day, prepared by his wife. The food filled the entire building with its smells. There was never any doubt when Meatball was having his lunch.

No one was surprised when Meatball died of a massive heart attack a few years earlier. His wife’s cooking had been slowly building up a congealing layer of grease on the office walls, so it wasn’t difficult to imagine what it did to Meatball’s arteries.

Meatball was old-school and no doubt fiercely protected Hucknall as a personal asset. Which meant it was possible that after Meatball died, Hucknall would have been left all alone, even unaware for some time that his police contact was dead. Maybe Hucknall never found out until he finally emerged from wherever he’d been hiding these five years?

‘So, who are you going to turn to next?’ Lukas asked himself, tapping his teeth with a pen, staring at the screen.

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