BooksBarbecue
Back Right to Kill Save as PDF
Chapters (60)
  1. Cover
  2. Note to Readers
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. Thursday
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. Friday
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. Saturday
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. Sunday
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. Monday
  40. 32
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. Tuesday
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. 42
  52. 43
  53. 44
  54. 45
  55. Wednesday
  56. 46
  57. Epilogue
  58. 47
  59. Acknowledgements
  60. About the Publisher

Andy Mills had a rare talent for speaking the truth in a truly offensive way. But as a DCI he rarely got the chance. Modern policing, as he and Joe occasionally lamented over their fourth or fifth beer, was like being a filing clerk who occasionally arrests somebody then spends the next week worrying that he’s filled out all the forms correctly. And when you’re a DCI, you also got to worry about everybody else’s forms.

Andy glanced at his watch. His head and shoulders sagged, just a touch.

‘Sod it. I’ve got a drinks reception in the Town Hall. I don’t even know what it’s for.’

‘Warm white wine and the company of town councillors. Where did I go wrong, eh? This could all have been mine!’

Andy shook his head, the beginnings of a smile on his face.

‘Stick with it. You’ve got a dozen men ’til Monday.’

‘It’s Friday afternoon! Do they get overtime?’

‘No they bloody don’t. A few of ’em’ll be on weekends. That’s your lot. Let’s see where we are on Monday.’

He waited, saw that Joe was going nowhere, hands thrust into his pockets. It was the old Joe, all instinct and determination, when he’d been the most annoying detective on the Force, absurdly optimistic and wilfully stubborn. A right pain in the arse.

‘OK, you win. There’s a definite local angle, right? I’ll try and get you joint ops with Kirklees. Share the love, that sort of thing.’

‘Your bounty is endless.’

‘Bounty’s a chocolate bar as far as I’m concerned.’

Joe nodded and turned to leave. He’d heard that one before. It didn’t matter. He’d got what he wanted. Jane Shaw would get justice, whatever her son had done, and however he’d turned out.

12

It was already dark when he parked in Cleckheaton town centre, just behind the Bull’s Head. Twenty minutes down the motorway, but the contrast with an evening in Leeds couldn’t have been more marked. No groups of smart young people emerging from offices, jackets unbuttoned, ties loosened, back-slapping as they pushed into crowded wine bars; no streets crowded with pedestrians dodging the endless line of buses, each one full, top and bottom, windows misted up, as the city shifted into evening mode.