Angel Confidential Read Online Free PDF Page A

usually means paternal.’ If it’s for fun, they do it themselves, up and down Oxford Street, every day. ‘And runaways are one of London’s growth industries. But not many go to the expense of a private eye. That smacks of worried parents.’
    She leaned forward, closer to the glass partition at the back of my head.
    â€˜Hey, you won’t tell anyone I told you this, will you? I mean, it’s supposed to be client confidential , and that’s a number one rule in our business.’ She paused. ‘Just a minute. I didn’t tell you any of that. You just guessed.’
    â€˜Deduced. Simple deduction, my dear Watson,’ I said smugly.
    â€˜Who’s Watson?’
    â€˜Oh … nothing. It’s just something I say to my cat.’
    â€˜I like cats,’ she said instinctively.
    â€˜Not mine,’ I said under my breath.
    â€˜And cats really, really like me.’
    â€˜Not mine.’
    â€˜I’ve been on at Albert – Mr Block – to get an office cat. I’m sure I saw a rat in the back yard last week. Here we are, by the way.’
    She pushed a hand through the partition to wag a finger at a side road, and I had to cut across traffic to make the turn. In anything other than a black Austin taxi, I would have drawn hoots of anger from the rush-hour traffic.
    â€˜Down here, then right. It’s number 13.’
    It was hardly the sort of address to inspire confidence in the bona fides of a burglar, let alone a confidential enquiry agent. I wondered how the estate agent had sold it. Conveniently placed, between Shepherd’s Bush and Wood Lane, an area honeycombed by BBC production facilities and all the intrigue that implies. Well, no shortage of scandal and clients there. Or he could have hyped the mean streets angle. Just the place for a private eye, sir. One of the fastest rising rates of urban crime without the expense of a Los Angeles zip code. And the drive-bys aren’t actually that violent because the gangs don’t own guns yet. (No, they rent them from the villains in south London.) Or maybe just the purely aesthetic: offering sublime views, especially at sunset, over the old Central Line railway depot and repair yard.
    Veronica was still talking, though I’d stopped listening, ‘I really do owe you a big thank you, you know.’
    I knew, and I also knew that having her out of Armstrong and earshot would settle the bill.
    â€˜I suppose you could say you saved my bacon today. It’s just here, on the right. Now that’s what I call service; right to the door.’
    â€˜Does the door usually hang off its hinges like that?’ I asked.
    Â 
    â€˜So you’re not actually a relative of Mr Block, then, miss?’ the policeman asked for the third time.
    â€˜No, I’m his partner – sort of,’ Veronica sobbed, burying her face in a handkerchief.
    I was staggered. I thought all decent mascara was waterproof these days.
    â€˜So you lived with Mr Block? Is that it?’ The copper tried to hide the surprise in his voice. I was sure he’d heard and seen much worse in his career, but I thought I’d put him out of his misery.
    â€˜Er ... I don’t think she means partner as ... er ... other people do.’
    â€˜And you are who, sir?’
    Typical fuzz; turn an offer of help into an interrogation. If I’d told him the time, I’d probably have got stitched up for perverting the course of justice.
    â€˜He’s my …’
    â€˜Friend,’ I said quickly. ‘Just giving her a lift. That’s all.’
    Veronica looked up at me from the bottom stair where she had plonked herself down at the horror of it all. I thought she was upset because I had cut her off, but I didn’t want to give any of our wonderful policemen the idea that I was impersonating a real cab driver. That bit, of course, she hadn’t noticed.
    â€˜What do you mean, partner like other