Catch Me Twice (Binge-worthy Crime Thrillers That Read Like True Crime. Book 4) by Catherine Yaffe

Author:Catherine Yaffe [Yaffe, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-05-24T00:00:00+00:00

27

‘What was all that about?’ asked Nick.

‘Seems we’re the favoured ones,’ Sadie said, pulling her chair up to her desk and wiggling the mouse to wake up her computer.

‘Makes a change,’ Angela muttered from behind her screen.

‘Come on, don’t keep me in suspenders,’ said Nick.

‘Before we go any further,’ said Ziggy. ‘I need some things clearing up,’ he said.

Three heads turned and looked at him.

‘What is “bottoming out”? Where the hell is Whip-ma-something Gate?’

‘Ah, once a Scouse, always a Scouse,’ Angela teased whilst Nick and Sadie laughed.

‘“Bottomed out” means to exhaust all leads, in this case. Make sure we’ve covered every angle, we’ve got to the bottom of a situation,’ said Nick, smiling.

‘Whip-ma-whop-ma Gate is a street in York,’ Sadie chipped in. ‘Allegedly, it originally meant “What a street”, but it’s changed over the years.’

‘Wait till you find out what we do with the fat off the Sunday joint of beef,’ Angela said, laughing.

‘I’m not sure I want to know,’ said Ziggy. He dragged a spare chair across the carpet and sat down, resting his aching ankle on it.

‘Where do you want to start?’ Sadie asked looking at Ziggy.

Ziggy checked his watch. ‘Let’s spend the rest of this shift going over what I know from Operation Wonderland, then we can start afresh with everything else tomorrow.’

Agreeing with the plan, the four gathered round and Ziggy relayed a part of his past working life that he would rather forget.

It was just after seven when Sadie dropped Ziggy at home that evening and they made arrangements for her to collect him at seven the next morning. As he hopped his way into the kitchen, he leant his crutch against the kitchen island and hopped over to the fridge. Rachel had kindly dropped off some meals she had prepared for him. Grateful they were still good friends, and that she was a fabulous cook, he pulled out a bowl of Rachel’s homemade stew from the fridge, loosened the lid and popped it in the microwave. Shuffling himself over to the sink, he retrieved a spoon from the drying rack, placed it on the counter and waited for the ping of microwave. As he waited, he looked around his kitchen. In the six months since the refurb, the death of his best friend and several intense cases in between he felt as though he hadn’t spent any time at home.

He was under no illusion that if he and Rachel were to rekindle any romance between them, it would take a considerable amount of effort and change from him, and he wasn’t sure if he was in the right headspace to do that yet. They had agreed they would go out on the occasional date, see where it took them, but no pressure from either side.

The microwave pinged, and using a tea towel, he grabbed the piping-hot bowl and shimmied his way over to the kitchen island and plonked himself down on a stool. He’d recently learnt that a slice of bread and butter in the bottom of the bowl was known as a ‘poor mans,’ as in a ‘poor man’s Yorkshire pudding.

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