Tag - You're Dead by Douglas Skelton

Author:Douglas Skelton [Skelton, Douglas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Detective
Publisher: Saraband
Published: 2017-04-26T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

I spent another two hours with Alicia – she’d explain her lengthy lunch to the desk by saying she was talking to a source, which was the truth – and then swung by Ginty’s salon in the East End. I knew I shouldn’t do it – I wasn’t in the habit of popping in – but couldn’t help myself. The Nightcaller had me rattled and I needed to make sure she was okay.

She was fine, she had another two stylists with her and they each had customers. She looked at the welt, frowned, but said nothing. That wouldn’t last.

The address Alicia gave me was on Allison Street, near Queen’s Park, and on my way home, so I called in. It was a third-floor flat in a tenement block made of sandstone stained almost black by generations of dirt and smoke. I knocked at the door, pressed the bell and knocked the door again, but no-one answered. Scribbled a note with my phone number and dropped it through the letterbox. I hoped I’d catch the would-be Sondheim sometime soon.

As I drove to Battlefield, I passed the gates to Queen’s Park at the top of Victoria Road and considered wandering up to the flagpole where Paula’s body was found, but decided against it. It wouldn’t help me and, anyway, it was a steep hill. To be honest, that was the clincher. Give me a break, I hadn’t slept well the night before, a big palooka had just used my face as a punchbag and I was tired.

It was dark by the time I reached my street. There was no convenient parking space near the opening to my building and I had to walk back from the corner. It had been sunny and dry all day, not warm but not exactly chilly. Now that sun was gone there was a noticeable nip in the air, and I hunched into my leather jacket.

I didn’t see them waiting for me in the parked car, but I heard the window being wound down and an instantly recognisable voice reached out as if it was feeling my collar.

‘Queste.’

I leaned down and saw Nick Cornwell’s big boxer face staring out at me. He wasn’t smiling. He seldom does. Well, not at me. At home he could smile like a politician on the stump, for all I knew.

‘Get in,’ he said, before I could greet him with one of my usual witticisms. Truth be told, I was so tired and sore, I was tapped out. Still, a please would’ve been nice.

The back door swung open and I saw Theresa Cohan waiting for me. I gave her a smile. She gave me one back. She took in the lump on my face as I ducked in but didn’t say anything. Then as I settled, I saw there was another person in the car grinning at me over the passenger seat.

‘Val,’ I said, genuinely pleased, ‘good to see you again.’

‘And you, Dom,’ said DCI Roach, toasting me with the cup from her Thermos.

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