Gillard's Sting by Margaret Duffy

Author:Margaret Duffy
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781448304356
Publisher: Severn House
Published: 2020-03-03T00:00:00+00:00

NINE

‘John,’ Patrick said softly. ‘What the hell have you been up to?’

There was a blaze of recognition in the brown eyes. ‘Patrick?’ he croaked. ‘For God’s sake … please … please, you’ve got to help me.’

He then started to shake violently and I turned to the constable who had accompanied us. ‘Tea, hot, sweet and quickly please.’

‘I shall have to lock the door. He’s been violent,’ the man said.

‘Lock it then. We know him. And tell the DCI.’

Amazingly, Sue Manning arrived with the tea. ‘Is this your man then?’ she enquired. ‘Brinkley, was it?’

Patrick told her it was, adding, ‘I do have to question your doctor’s findings. He’s seriously malnourished and still under the influence of drugs of some kind judging by his enlarged pupils. He ought to be admitted to hospital to enable a few checks to be done.’

‘No!’ Brinkley shouted, jumping to his feet. ‘They’ll find me there!’

Gently, but in a manner not to be argued with, Patrick sat him down again. ‘You’re safe,’ he assured him.

‘Not if you let me out of your sight.’

Whether by this he meant Patrick personally or the police in general was hard to tell but nobody asked and he was given his tea. It was quite shocking to see the way he cradled the hot drink, gazing down into it as though needing the warmth and security of holding such a homely thing.

Patrick sat beside him on the bunk. ‘Who’s “they”, John?’

‘Dunno. Blokes with their faces covered. What did you say my name was?’

‘John Brinkley. You’ll remember more when whatever someone gave you wears off. Please don’t worry about it.’ He smiled. ‘I’m really chuffed that you remembered mine.’

‘You told me I smelled like a knocking shop.’

‘You did.’

The man actually chuckled. Then he said, ‘My brain seems to be in a fog but I have an idea some cop wants to arrest me – but not here, nothing to do with you. Why are you here anyway?’

‘I was asked to look for you. You went off and no one knew where you were.’

‘Does it matter? Can’t a man go where he likes when he’s retired? Yes, that’s right, I’m retired. I think I used to work in London.’

Patrick patted his arm. ‘I need to talk to the DCI here. Rest.’

Brinkley looked up as Patrick rose and spotted me. ‘Ingrid! How lovely to see you. Still writing?’

I nodded and smiled.

We left the cell and went to Manning’s office.

‘Feed him and he’ll recover more quickly,’ Patrick said when the door had been closed.

‘This is getting a bit complicated,’ Manning said, having opened the door again to accede to his suggestion and ask for the prisoner to be given a meal.

I thought this a serious understatement but I kept quiet. When I get involved in what I shall call an inter-cop situation away from home ground, I tend to keep a low profile.

We seated ourselves and the DCI went on, ‘From what you’ve already told me I think I’ve built up an accurate picture. He’s

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