Takedown Heather Atkinson (rosie project txt) 📖

deranged giggles. When his attempt to interview the fourth man was as unsuccessful as the previous three interviews, he pulled open the door that led back into the pub where his men were waiting with the other three.

“Right, nick the lot of them,” yelled Matthew, his patience wearing thin.

“Sir?” said his detective constable uncertainly.

“For obstruction. I thought that would sober you up,” he said when the men all stopped laughing. “Now you are going to tell me in a sensible, articulate manner what you got up to yesterday evening.”

“We were here,” replied one of the men with a small pencil moustache whose name was Warren.

“That’s better. Was anyone with you?”

“Just Mickey.”

“Mickey?”

“Gunning. We played some snooker,” he said, gesturing to the table.

“That’s a pool table.”

“It is?” he said, looking genuinely puzzled. “No wonder I kept losing.”

“Oh my God,” he sighed. “And what about you lot?” he asked the other three.

“Yeah, we played,” said another of the men. “I won forty quid because he’s a dick who doesn’t understand pool,” he grinned, pointing at Warren.

Young looked to the other two, who nodded.

“There, that wasn’t so difficult, was it? Now I’m going to speak to Lil and if what she says doesn’t match what you said then you’re getting charged and flung into a cell for the night.”

Leaving his men to watch over them, he stomped over to the bar where Lil waited.

“DI Young,” she purred, tossing back her mane of red hair. “You are a vast improvement on our last DI. Much more handsome.”

“Yeah, thanks. Did that group of orangutans come in here last night?”

“Yes, unfortunately. The idiots caused two hundred pounds worth of damage.”

“Do you want to press charges?”

“No. If I did my business would fold in a week. Anyway, Mickey gave me the cash to cover the damage. He might be a nutter but he can also be a gentleman.”

“What time did they arrive?”

“About six and they left at about ten o’clock. I know they went to the Happy Shamrock afterwards because I’m good pals with the landlord and he told me they broke his jukebox. Mickey paid for that too.”

“Right, thanks,” he sighed.

“Judging by your expression that wasn’t the news you wanted to hear. Oh, I see. You think they’re something to do with Dillon Enfield?”

“It was a possibility.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“You’re a woman with your ear to the ground Lil. Who do you think did it?”

“I reckon it was a jealous husband. He was getting a lot of threats.”

“An oil painting he was not. How did he manage to charm so many women?”

The corner of her mouth lifted into a smile. “Men really don’t understand what women see in men, do you? Dillon had a great sense of humour and there was just this charisma about him that was very attractive. It’s hard to put into words.”

“Sounds to me like women don’t understand what they see in men either.”

“Very good DI Young. It’s nice to meet a police officer with a sense of humour.” She leaned on the bar to whisper in his ear, “Why don’t you come back after closing time and let me make you smile?”

“No thanks. I’ve already got a girlfriend who does that for me.”

“She’s a lucky girl,” she winked.

“You mean I’m a lucky man. Thanks for your time Lil and for the use of your back room.”

“You’re welcome cutie. Don’t forget my offer, will you?”

“How could I forget?” he replied, turning back to face his officers. “Let’s go,” he told them.

“What about this lot Sir?” said the detective constable, pointing to Mickey’s friends.

“Leave them. We’ve got other leads to check.”

Faith jumped awake and looked around her darkened bedroom, wondering what had disturbed her. She paused to listen but could hear nothing. Vance was fast asleep beside her. If there had been anything to hear he would have heard it. In prison you learn to be a light sleeper. Squinting at the clock she saw it was two thirty in the morning.

Knowing she wouldn’t get back to sleep now, she threw back the duvet and got to her feet, pulling on her thick cosy purple dressing gown before quietly slipping out of the room and closing the door behind her. She padded into the kitchen and switched on the kettle to make herself a cup of camomile tea, which always helped her sleep. While she waited for the kettle to boil, she wandered around the flat, checking the front door was locked and all the windows were closed. Not that she needed to, she knew they were. When you left open the window of a fourth floor apartment in Blackpool in autumn you tended to notice.

Satisfied everything was secure, she returned to the kitchen to pour out her tea and sat at the kitchen table. As she gazed into the mug, inhaling the delicious aroma, she tried to force away the feeling of unease. There was only herself and Vance in the flat and everything was locked and secure, so why couldn’t she shake the sense of dread prickling up her spine?

Recalling Vance’s words about her instinct trying to tell her something, she decided to have another look around, checking every room again but everything was as it should be.

She took her tea to the window, staring out at the sea. As the wind was quite fierce the waves were rolling in on furious white horses. She opened the doors leading onto the balcony to let in a bit of fresh air and to listen to the waves crashing onto the shore. She loved that sound, it always soothed her.

As she sipped her tea, goosebumps rising all over her body from the cold air despite her thick dressing gown, another sensation began to wash over her. It was an