The Dead Tell Lies by Kirwan J. F

Author:Kirwan, J. F. [Kirwan, J. F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime, thriller
Amazon: B08CMXWF1X
Goodreads: 54520529
Publisher: Bloodhound Books - crime, thriller and mystery
Published: 2020-07-15T07:00:00+00:00

21

Finch didn’t usually touch the hard stuff until the evening, but here she was with a Scotch on the rocks and a plate of chicken-and-mushroom pie with chips that Matthews had shoved in front of her. His cheeseburger and extra chips had long vanished, and he was weeding her thick-cut chips away from her plate two at a time. It didn’t matter; she couldn’t eat. Not until she had a way forward.

Her grandfather had sat her down one day, after she’d won a chess competition at school, and told her that her mind was like a greyhound. ‘If you want a greyhound to run really fast, to catch something, you don’t feed it. You give it any food whatsoever, it won’t run.’

He had a lot to answer for. She’d been eternally thin.

Matthews sighed. ‘You know, a chicken died for that,’ he said, pointing a greasy fork at her pie. He pulled the plate across to his side. The waitress passed and picked up Finch’s cutlery and Matthews’ original, almost clean plate, and whisked them away. Finch considered that although Donaldson and Matthews both loved their food, Donaldson at least had some basic rules of engagement.

‘All yours,’ she said. She waited until he’d sawn off a big chunk of gooey suet-cum-pastry and it was about to go down the hatch, then said, ‘His ex is next.’

Matthews, to his credit, actually paused, but only a heartbeat. He spoke while chewing. She didn’t look away. She was used to it.

‘And you know that how?’

‘She’s gone. In the wind.’

‘Why her?’

‘She helped him on The Painter and The Surgeon cases.’

‘Oh.’ His fork hovered between plate and mouth. ‘Maybe he warned her. He had one phone call.’

‘He tried. I checked it out after Donaldson asked me to. We traced her number and accessed her call history. Greg phoned her and left a message. But she’d already vanished before he made the call. We checked with her neighbours. And she never accessed her voicemail.’

He met her eyes.

‘Guess who was the last person seen with her?’ she asked.

Matthews put down his fork. ‘Greg.’ He pushed the plate away, took a swig of bitter. ‘Who’s on the case?’

‘Birmingham Metro. It’s out of our jurisdiction for now, but I know someone there.’

‘Good. She’ll turn up,’ he said. He took another swig. ‘You look pissed off.’

‘Rickard gave me a bollocking after the interview with Greg. Said he didn’t want any more surprises. I also got a lecture on how he was looking after Greg’s interests, but also those of the Force, blah, blah, blah.’

‘If Rickard is his last hope, then Greg’s really up shit creek.’

She remembered why she put up with Matthews.

He added, ‘But we’re not going to feed Rickard more evidence to puff up his schizoid theory, are we?’

‘Schism,’ she corrected.

‘Po-tay-to, po-tart-oh,’ he said, and resumed stuffing his mouth.

‘One of us needs to find out if that call was suppressed. The one Raj told Greg about.’

‘That would be me,’ he said.

‘Could require… workarounds. Maybe bending a few rules. Peeking behind Yard firewalls.

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