Thick as Thieves (A DCI Thatcher Yorkshire Crimes Book 11) by Oliver Davies

Author:Oliver Davies [Davies, Oliver]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-01-23T16:00:00+00:00

Sixteen

Mills

I hadn’t given myself much to do in the evening, and so when Thatcher’s call came through, I was a little relieved. Relieved that I wouldn’t be sitting around the house on my own for yet another evening. Relieved that Jeannie had resurfaced and might actually be willing to get us somewhere with this case.

I doubted that she’d present her brother to us on a silver platter, but if she knew something, anything, it would be worth heading back into the station after our shift had ended.

So I grabbed my things and left the house. Hopping into the car, I stopped off at a drive-through burger place to grab some food before carrying on to the station. I’d not eaten either and had been standing in my kitchen debating between a lasagne in my freezer, which had been in there for an unknown length of time, or just making myself some eggs. Burgers were better, and the smell of them filled my car as I headed down the road.

Thatcher’s car was outside when I arrived, and I jumped out, bag of food in hand and headed into the building. The desk sergeant looked up as I walked in, eyes homing in on the bag in my hand. I’d been generous with my order and pulled out an extra portion of chips, sliding them over his desk. He grinned and winked, and I wandered past to the stairs, met by Thatcher at the top. He leant against the wall dressed in a pair of joggers, his usual boots and coat, and a chunky jumper, turning his phone in his hands. He turned as I approached, his attention either caught by the sound of my steps or the smell of the food and let out a relieved sigh.

“Thank God. I’m so hungry.”

“I got the usual,” I said, looking around. “Where’s Jeannie?”

“Bathroom.” He jerked his head to the door across from where we now stood. “She got a bit rain-drenched, so she’s drying off and changing. Letting a witness get pneumonia wouldn’t do much for our public image.” He sounded a bit miffed by that, but I didn’t doubt that his bad mood was mostly caused by hunger.

“So what happened, exactly?” I asked, leaning against the wall beside him, the bag hot against my chest.

“She just turned up,” he said, scratching his head. “Knocked on the door and said that someone was following her, that it was our fault for tipping them off about her, and that she wants to make a deal. We consider other suspects and keep her safe, but if Archie’s our guy, there’s only so much we can do.”

“She must really believe he’s innocent,” I said. “To come knocking on your door about it. Or she must really be scared.”

Jeannie’s work landed her in trouble once or twice before, occasionally even on our behalf, so if she thought she was being followed, I was inclined to believe her. Given that Thatcher had brought her here himself without bothering to change made me think that he thought the same.

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