The Armada Boy Read Online Free PDF Page A

it as a come-on. Steve Carstairs considered himself
irresistible to women, but he was too obvious for Rachel's taste. And Steve's attitude
to Wesley - the racist wisecracks he'd made when the
sergeant first arrived - had hardly endeared him to her.
     
    'I think we should ask around in the
pub this evening. There might be some regulars we haven't spoken to in the
house-to-house ... ones that live further afield.'
     
    Rachel had never rated Steve's deductive
abilities very highly, sometimes asking herself how he had ever made it into
CID. But she realised this suggestion was a good one ... as long as she wasn't
going to be the one forced to spend an evening in his company. She had other
things planned ... a quiet evening in Dave's flat with a takeaway and a bottle
of wine would be the preferred option. But police work had the habit of mining
the most
carefully laid plans.
     
    'I'll suggest to the boss that we go
for a drink tonight, then ...chat up a few locals. How about it. Rach?' He
winked at her knowingly. Rachel turned and marched off down the path, trying hard
not to limp.
     
    It was going to be a long day. There
were statements to take from all the veterans and their wives: someone might be
able to throw some light on Norman Openheim's movements. Wesley had just taken
Dorinda Openheim back to the hotel. She had identified her husband's neatly laid
out body without a hint of emotion. Wesley had never seen a newly bereaved
widow so coolly self-possessed.
     
    Heffernan told him to take a break
and get something to eat He drove the six miles back to Tradmouth and home. He
would check on Pam... see if she was all right. With the baby due in ten weeks -
their much-longed-for, much-tried-for first-born - he felt the
impulse to ensure that no disaster had occurred in his absence.
     
    It was a quarter to five. Pam's VW
was parked in the drive. As Wesley opened the front door he heard voices, one
distressed, the other comforting. He felt a stab of irritation. He had come
home for a respite from the pressure of the day. What he didn't need was
aggravation.
     
    Wesley opened the living-room door.
Pam was sitting on the settee, her arm placed comfortingly round the shoulders
of a sobbing young woman. A baby, about a year old. crawled dangerously near
the dried flower arrangement in the fireplace; they would have to do something about
rearranging the room when their own was born.
     
    Sue, their next-door neighbour,
looked up when she heard Wesley come in and tugged a tissue out of her sleeve
to dry her eye.
     
    'What's up?' asked Wesley.
     
    'Those bastards at the building
society,' Pam pronounced angrily.
     
    Wesley knew that the small
engineering works owned by his neighbour, Jim, had gone into liquidation some
months back. Jim had looked for work but to no avail. Now Sue and Jim had come to
the end of the road ... they were to lose their heavily mortgaged
    home. There were no words that
Wesley could find. 'Sorry' seemed inadequate.
     
    Sue gathered her baby up as it began
to investigate the dried flowers and it screamed loudly. She took her leave
bravely. She would have to feed the baby ... life went on.
     
    When Sue had gone Wesley took Pam in
his arms and kissed the top of her head.
    'I feel so useless,' she said
bitterly.
     
    "They can't just evict them,
surely. Where will they go?'
     
    'Bed and breakfast in Morbay ... go
on the waiting list for a council house.'
     
    'Shit First the works and now
this....'
     
    'It's time they had some good luck.
Poor Sue . .. Short of winning the lottery and paying off their mortgage
arrears there's nothing we can do to help them.'
     
    Wesley felt as bad as Pam did about
their neighbours' plight, but he had a job to do if they were to keep a roof
over their heads.
     
    'Sorry, love, I've only got an hour
to grab myself something to eat. I've got to go back to Bereton. There's been
an American tourist found murdered... war veteran over here for a reunion.'
     
    'Bereton? Was he