The Murder House Read Online Free PDF Page B

supreme self-control I kept my face impassive as he slipped into the seat opposite again.
    â€˜Enjoy your beauty sleep?’ There was an edge in his voice that was far from pleasant.
    â€˜Yes,’ I replied, holding his gaze steadily, although my heart thudded horribly. ‘Until I woke up and saw a thief had been by.’
    He glanced behind him, then leaned across the table. ‘Look, I won’t beat around the bush. We both know that removing court files from police stations is a no-no. You’ll lose your job – and believe me, it won’t be easy for a sacked officer to get another.’
    â€˜Your word against mine,’ I blustered.
    He smiled. ‘Yes, but I have the file to support my claim. You have nothing.’
    â€˜If you use it against me you’ll have to admit to stealing it,’ I countered.
    He gazed at me with raised eyebrows. ‘But I
found
it on a train. I didn’t
steal
it.’
    â€˜What do you want?’ I asked, trying to sound unconcerned, although my stomach was acid. ‘Me to beg for it? To blackmail me into doing something for you? What?’
    He smiled again. ‘Not blackmail, Helen. Cooperation. I want information, so we shall make an arrangement that’ll suit us both.’
    â€˜What arrangement?’ I felt as if I were in some dreadful nightmare. Under the table, I dug my nails hard into the back of my hand. It hurt, but I didn’t wake up to laugh at the tricks the imagination could play.
    He glanced around again, although no one was close enough to catch anything he said. The student was sleeping, while the shaven-headed hulk further down had wires dangling from his ears and a dazed expression on his face.
    â€˜I want you to help me,’ he said softly.
    â€˜How?’ I asked numbly. ‘I’m only a PC.’
    â€˜True.’ He grinned cruelly. ‘Two years ago, I thought a police contact might come in handy, but a lowly constable with scant prospect of promotion was no use. Why do you think I never called you after our evening together? But things have changed, and I’m of a mind to reconsider.’
    â€˜Bastard,’ I muttered. Was he really so calculating, even then?
    He turned his smile on me again, and I felt myself stiffen. ‘Unfortunately, the Noble case is pretty watertight as far as I can see. Oakley is a careful man, so I need an edge if I’m to win.’
    I was beginning to feel sick. ‘An edge?’ I asked in what came out as a whimper. He was right: Oakley had a reputation for meticulous attention to detail, and there was no way he’d have made a mistake with Noble.
    â€˜Don’t worry; I won’t demand the impossible. I just want you to clarify something. Then you get your file back, and no one will ever know about our little tête-à-tête.’
    â€˜Clarify something?’ I repeated stupidly.
    â€˜My client tells me there was a commotion concerning his property when he was in the cells. He couldn’t hear exactly, but he knows it was something to do with him.’
    â€˜I don’t know anything about that.’ Yet I did – Wright had overheard Oakley giving Butterworth a roasting for tampering with the evidence book, and there wasn’t an officer at New Bridewell who hadn’t been lured into a corner and regaled with details of Butterworth’s stupidity. The sad thing was that the heroin in the packet was completely different from the heroin on the boat – FSS had found both on Noble’s clothes – so Butterworth’s fiddle wouldn’t have made any difference anyway.
    â€˜Police stations are no places for secrets,’ said James smoothly. ‘Now tell me.’
    â€˜I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I insisted. ‘I went home as soon as Noble was processed. I wasn’t there when he was in the cells.’
    â€˜I’m not asking for an eye-witness account,’ said James.