Idle Hands: The Twisting Third Instalment In The DS Jamie Johansson Series by Morgan Greene

Author:Morgan Greene [Greene, Morgan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mercury Books
Published: 2020-10-30T22:00:00+00:00

Cake was standing outside when Jamie pulled in.

He waved her down as she bumped her hatchback up onto the curb and killed the engine.

The building was an old industrial brick slab set back off the road a little, surrounded by an electrical substation on one side, and a block of apartments on the other that faced away. The street was a narrow one that cut between two residential roads. Opposite the gym was a patch of scrubland before an overland railway line burst from the ground.

Inside you could barely hear the trains. But it was one more reason the rent was as low as it was.

Jamie opened the door and stepped into the cool morning air, her leather jacket squeaking as she walked. Things were quiet.

‘Cake,’ Jamie said, smiling at him. He looked distraught. Grave, even.

‘Jamie,’ he said, exhaling hard. He ran his hands through his hair. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s not your fault, Cake.’

He pulled his lips into a wide line and looked at the ground.

Jamie paused, knowing there was more to this than he was telling here. ‘What is it, Cake?’

‘I know what they took,’ he said quietly.

‘What, Cake?’ Jamie swallowed, that same feeling of dread creeping deeper into her. ‘Rowing machines? Your laptop?’ she said, almost hopefully.

‘No, they only took one thing,’ he practically mumbled. ‘Come inside, I’ll show you.’ He turned and stepped through the open door.

Jamie paused at the frame, looking for signs of forced entry. She couldn’t see any.

It was a fire door with a bolt-lock. But the bolt was pushed out of the body — like it had been locked with the door open.

The thing wouldn’t snap closed — just bang on the frame.

Jamie frowned, then went inside. She’d ask him about it.

‘In here,’ Cake said, going towards the office.

She didn’t like this.

‘Here,’ he said, stopping at the filing cabinet.

The top drawer was open.

Inside, a series of hanging files sat in a rough order.

At the back, she could see the word “Tax” written on a label sticking out of a file. And at the front were files with names on their tabs. “A. Benson”, “R. Clarke”, “T. Fraiser”, “J. Johansson.”

Members.

Jamie froze, her eyes falling on it.

Had cake opened the drawer?

‘What did they take, Cake?’ she asked, her voice low.

He reached into the cabinet and pulled out Jamie’s file. It was plain brown card.

‘Here,’ he said, handing it to her.

She took it, felt it light in her hands, and opened it, her heart picking up its pace.

‘It’s empty,’ she said, confused for a second, looking up. ‘This is what they took? What was in here?’

‘Just paperwork — not much. Two, three sheets was all. Your membership form, your insurance waiver. And a contact sheet.’

Jamie’s grip tightened around it. ‘A contact sheet?’ she said, teeth gritted suddenly. ‘With my contact information on it?’ She felt sick.

He nodded. ‘Yeah.’

Jamie exhaled, hoping, for once in his life, Cake hadn’t been efficient with his paperwork. He’d always been lax, ever since she’d known him. ‘Please tell me that you still had my old address down.

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