Chapters (49)
- Cover
- Table of Contents
- Also by Graham Hurley
- LIMELIGHT
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- AFTERWARDS
‘But he told me you gave him a list. Prospects? Isn’t that right?’
‘Yeah. But that’s because I’m checking the guy out. The people on that list can spot dodgy from way out. Let’s hope Malo’s right.’ He pauses. ‘You OK?’
‘I’m fine.’ I drain my glass. ‘I’ve been down in Devon with my friend Evelyn. Not her fault but it’s been a difficult few days.’
TWENTY-TWO
Next morning, I wake early. A thin grey light is washing through the venetian blinds and a glance at my bedside clock tells me it’s 06.23. I lie still for a moment, trying to imagine what might have woken me up, when there comes a flurry of knocks at my front door, and a raised voice.
‘Police. Let us in. Police. Last call before we do the door.’
I struggle into my dressing gown and head down the hall. I can hear voices outside, at least two men, and when I put my eye to the peephole I count no less than four bodies. Two of them are in body-armour: helmets, visors, shoulder pads, the full ninja-gear. The others, partly hidden, are wearing suits.
I open the door and step back. One of the ninjas thrusts a document at me. This, it seems, is a search warrant. He steps past and gestures for his mate to follow. They move quickly from room to room with shouted warnings and raised weapons. Once each room is declared empty, they end up in the lounge. At first, this had felt like a film set, a piece of well-rehearsed hokum, but now it’s beyond intimidating. As the ninjas check out the space behind the sofa and peer out of the window, I’m looking at the men in suits. One of them is DI Bullivant. The other is Brett Atkinson.
‘What’s going on?’
Bullivant ignores the question. He wants a contact for the firm that manages the apartment block.
‘You’ve got CCTV in the car park. There’s also a video phone at the entrance. We need the pictures.’
‘Why?’
‘Just do it.’ A thin smile. ‘Please?’
I hold his gaze for a moment or two, and then find the number. One of the ninjas has abandoned his weapon and is going through the bin in the kitchen. He spots the empty bottle of Greco and lifts it out.
‘You had company last night?’
‘No.’
‘Drank it all by yourself?’
‘Yes.’
The other ninja emerges from the spare bedroom and shakes his head.
‘Nobody slept there, Skip.’
‘What is this?’ I’m looking at Brett. Bullivant’s on the phone to the twenty-four-hour security desk at the management company.
‘Bit of a development, I’m afraid.’
‘In Budleigh?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You’ve found her?’ I’m staring at him. ‘You’ve found a body?’