Dead Pretty: The 5th DS McAvoy Novel (DS Aector McAvoy) Read Online Free PDF Page A

blend in. Teddy does this very well. He’s a bulky man, but with his receding hairline, double chin and unremarkable clothes, he rarely attracts attention. He’s wearing a pale shirt with market jeans and a pair of service-station sunglasses. He urged Foley to do the same, but the younger man had been convinced that the weather up north would be intolerable, and dressed for an Arctic winter.
    ‘Take the picture,’ says Foley, as the front door of the house slams and the older one with the dark hair starts punching the steering wheel. ‘Let him know we’re here.’
    ‘Will do,’ says Teddy, and snaps a couple of images with his mobile phone. He checks his messages. ‘Nothing new. We’re still to hang on until we hear more.’
    Foley shakes his head, pissed off and bored. ‘Can’t we just do it now? We’re here. She’s just sitting there. And that lass had a decent rack on her. So does the mum. A scare, he said. Why wait?’
    Teddy shrugs. He’s seen it all before. Has more patience than his young companion. Knows he’s on to a good thing. He puts ‘debt collector’ down on forms when he’s forced to explain his occupation. It’s a title that covers a multitude of sins.
    ‘He’s going to call her himself,’ says Teddy. ‘Explain things, and then we’ll see. She’s an important woman. Near enough to being the boss of CID. This has to be done right. Finesse, my young friend – that’s what we need here.’
    Foley broods. Teddy knows he doesn’t like finesse. He likes hitting people over the head with a golf club and stamping on their faces until he can see the pavement through their eye sockets. But he’s getting paid well to employ restraint.
    Foley lifts the Lucozade and takes a swig. Belches loudly. In response to Teddy’s pained look, he opens his window a crack.
    ‘You done a copper before?’ Foley asks, staring at a wasp crawling up the windscreen. He leans over and flicks on the wipers, cursing as the wasp flies away before it can be pulped.
    ‘Years ago,’ says Teddy, nostalgically. ‘Undercover he was. Can’t remember which prison it was in. May have been Durham. He was trying to get some pervert to open up to him and tell him where he’d left this kid’s body. Me and a lad called Fleetwood didn’t know he was a copper. We bunged the guards a fifty to let us have half an hour with one of the nonces. This poor bastard was the one who drew the short straw. He fought like a fucking tiger. Didn’t help him though. Not in the end.’
    Foley nods appreciatively. Scratches at his groin, then slips his hand inside his jogging pants.
    ‘He get the other nonce to confess?’
    ‘Dunno, son,’ says Teddy. ‘He never came back from the hospital wing. I think he got a disability pension. Couldn’t be a copper after that. Say what you will about coppers, but one thing they all need is teeth.’
    Foley considers this. He nods at the woman getting out of the convertible and leers at her ample backside – enjoying the spectacle even more as she seems to change her mind and artfully lowers herself back inside.
    ‘This poor bitch had better start looking for a new career, then.’
    Teddy smiles affectionately at his partner. Looks at his phone and lets the anticipation build.
    ‘Oh yes,’ he says. ‘Oh yes indeed.’
     
    Fat bitch, fat bitch, fat bitch  . . .
    It had almost been lost, under the slam of the door and the tinny sound of shit music bleeding from her headphones, but there had been no mistaking the mumbled insult as Sophia grabbed her bag (condoms, cigarettes, tampons, a bra and the perfectly sensible knickers she’d been wearing when she left) and stomped towards the front door of the unremarkable semi-detached house on the Scartho estate in Grimsby.
    Detective Superintendent Trish Pharaoh sits for a moment in the driver’s seat of her sports car. Feels hot tears pricking at her eyes. She can’t decide whether she wants to run after her eldest daughter and slap her until