Hope Road Read Online Free PDF

expression.
    Baron looks at his watch, then activates the tape recorder that sits at the end of the desk, right up to the wall.
    John hadn’t noticed the recorder. He tries to remain calm as Baron goes through the motions, identifying all three of them. He assumes he could smoke if he wanted, but Baron doesn’t get a packet out, and Steele doesn’t move a muscle. Plus, there’s no ashtray.
Plus
, he doesn’t have any himself.
    Jesus, I want a fag.
    Both he and Baron have placed copies of the
Yorkshire Post
on the desk in front of them.
    “Local celebrity,” says Baron, turning back to face John.
    “It comes to us all.”
    A pause. Baron makes a bit of a performance of scanning the article, as if he hasn’t read it already.
    “We never did get anyone for Joe, I’m sorry to say.”
    “I know.”
    Regret? Someone took half of Joe’s head off with a shotgun, right there in the old showroom. Baron’s only regret is that his first case as a DI was a bad on bad.
    “How’s
Tony Ray’s Motors
doing under new management?” Baron asks, tapping his newspaper with a finger. “Looks like a slick operation!”
    “It’s doing okay.”
    “Old establishment! When did the original showrooms open?”
    “Sixty-three.”
    It says so in the article.
    “Crikey! The stuff we must have on that place, from over the years. I mean, I bet there are files bulging with it!”
    “Yes, yes. I’m from a criminal family.” John looks as DC Steele. “In case you didn’t know, my father and brother were both crooks. And because of that, I am simply not allowed to run a successful business.”
    Steele is unconcerned, stares right at him, the derision so firmly wiped from his face you can see the marks it left behind.
    “Antonio Ray!” Baron says, ignoring John’s sarcasm. “Quite a name in these parts. How is the old man?”
    “He dribbles a lot, and he thinks I’m his Uncle Alfonso. Stopped speaking a couple of months back.”
    Baron’s face never slips.
    John continues: “Oakwell Nursing Home. It overlooks Roundhay Park. If you ever go, take cash. They charge for breathing.”
    “The things your dad never went down for, it beggars belief! He’s a legend in this building, you know.” Baron pauses. “Sorry to hear, you know, about, well, how he is.”
    “And my brother? Let’s cover that ground whilst we’re at it, shall we? Joe was even worse, a real nasty piece of work. Then again, you got him a couple of times, didn’t you?”
    Baron is trying not to look pleased with himself, having already got a rise out of Ray. He glances involuntarily at the door, knowing that DC Danson won’t be far away, desperate to know what’s going on. Poor Den, off the case, and suffering the indignity of being an alibi witness for Tony Ray’s son. It doesn’t seem fair. She was the first officer on the scene the night of the shooting over on Hope Road. She sponged the remains of Joe Ray’s brains off his brother’s face. Now she’s his fucking alibi. Poor Den.
    “I’m not interested in your family,” Baron says, shifting in his plastic seat, trying to get comfortable. “You’re the one we’re looking at.”
    He recites from memory:
    “John Ray, criminal family, breaks with tradition, does well at school, then Cambridge. Spends a number of years living in Spain, before returning to the UK to train as an accountant. Fifteen years at two high-ranking accountancy firms, first London, then Manchester. Two years ago gives it all up to run the family business. Wins a prize for selling secondhand cars. No criminal record. The end.”
    John smiles. “You make it sound so, I don’t know, dull.”
    “I have a way with words.”
    Both men smile.
    “Funny thing,” Baron adds, “all those years as an accountant, big firms too, and you never made junior partner?”
    “I’m not ambitious.”
    “No managerial position of any kind?”
    “Let’s just say I’m not good at taking orders.”
    Baron stretches his arms, then lets them