The Art Merchant by J.K. Flynn

Author:J.K. Flynn [Flynn, J.K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-11-09T16:00:00+00:00

14

Dusk was falling and the street lamps winking to life as Esther drove the last block to Yorkgate station, where she went straight to the sergeants’ office to find a spare computer.

There was a sergeant on duty, a young man with blonde hair and a cockney accent who introduced himself as Terry. Perhaps it was the combination of youth and rank, but there was an arrogance about Terry that made Esther instantly dislike him. Not half as attractive as young Dale from earlier, Terry clearly thought he was God’s gift, leering at her as he showed her around her new office. He pointed out the desk that was soon to be hers, once ‘Old Barney’ finally got around to clearing it out. Apparently Barney had been stationed here for almost twenty years, an amiable chap who was going to be sorely missed when he retired. Terry couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. Old guy spent half his shift snoozing, as far as he could see, and it would be good to have some fresh blood about the place. Listening to Terry’s description of ‘Old Barney’, Esther realised she was going to have her work cut out for her when she took over his team. There was likely to be a great deal of suspicion and resentment. Teams with lazy sergeants could go two ways—they either became lazy and demotivated themselves, or they became savvy at self-management. Which way Barney’s team had gone under his lax oversight would have to be seen, and both produced their own kind of challenge for a new supervisor.

Esther was doing her best to give Terry the coolly polite-but-not-interested-in-talking routine as she settled herself at Barney’s desk and logged in to her account on the computer. It took about five minutes, but Terry eventually got the message and fucked off back to his own desk. Esther clicked on the icon for the police database.

She ran the number plate of the Audi from the art gallery. The first result came from the Motor Insurance Database, telling Esther that the car was insured in the name of the company, Marigate Art Ltd. A little further digging unearthed a driver, stopped for a minor traffic offence two years back.

Peter Darren.

She ran his details next. She got that same traffic ticket from two years ago in the results, and nothing else. No other reported incidents, no linked associates and no intelligence reports. Esther didn’t buy the clean image. That envelope trade was a clear indication to her that whatever Gorman was up to with Darren, it was dodgy as hell. Dodgy enough to get two people killed. Most detectives would chide her for making leaps. Textbook police-work was based on the emotionless, neutral analysis of objective facts. But that was not how humans worked, and it certainly wasn’t how Esther worked. Emotions motivated. Opinions formed. For Esther, her hunches and gut-instincts made her follow the leaps, and she tended to be right in the end far more often than not.

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