Devil in the Detail A.J. Cross (read full novel .TXT) 📖

‘No. He just owns it. Plus, two or three others in the same building.’

There was nothing in his tone which suggested either pride or complacency. She turned from the view, thinking of her bedsit. She shouldn’t have come here. ‘I just remembered. I can’t stay, I need to go, get home. There’s things I have to do.’

He looked at her, surprised. ‘No tea? OK, that’s one cup of coffee and now one tea we have to catch up on. I’ll walk you to your car.’

She got into it, Julian’s ‘See you tomorrow night!’ in her ears and drove away, reminding herself that she was a professional person. Somebody with a future.

All she felt was poor.

9.30 p.m.

Traynor was in his office at home, darkness excluded by a lowered blind. Hearing movement elsewhere in the house, he got up and headed for the kitchen. His daughter was there, her eyes fixed on her phone.

‘Would you like a drink?’ he asked.

‘Please. Small juice for me.’

He poured it, placed it in front of her, took a mug from a wall cabinet and spooned instant coffee, aware that he was under surveillance.

‘Dad.’

‘I know it’s late, but I’ve got work to do, and my understanding of our situation here is that I’m the car-er, you are the cared-for.’

She grinned. ‘That’s one way of looking at it.’ She reached for her glass, went to him, kissed his cheek, briefly laid her head against his shoulder. ‘Not too late, OK?’

He followed her down the wide hallway, detoured to his office, closing the door, his priority always that she should never see the detail of what he brought here from his work. It took him several minutes to read through all he had from his two meetings with Molly Lawrence. He sat back, looked at his notes with a strong sense of dissatisfaction.

He reached for his phone and rang Watts. ‘Does Molly Lawrence know that the gun has been recovered?’

‘Evening, Traynor,’ said Watts. ‘No. That’s still under wraps. I’ve arranged to see her on Monday to introduce myself. Want to be there?’

Traynor neatened his papers and files. ‘It’s best we keep our roles separate. If you tell me how she is when you do see her, I’ll confirm a date to see her again.’

EIGHTEEN

Sunday 16 December. 12.05 a.m.

Judd eyed the crowd of ‘Christmas-Works-Do’ revellers, feeling tired, wanting to leave the club. She wasn’t having a good time. Having earlier managed to shake off one of the male civilian workers who worked reception at the office, she had joined a group which included Julian. He had bought her a drink and they had chatted. He’d done most of the talking. She had felt inhibited. He had talked a bit about his lecturing job in Manchester and touched on the inquiry he was assisting up there. She’d listened avidly to what he’d had to say about it but had felt insecure without the trappings of headquarters around them. He’d asked her to dance. She’d refused, not knowing why. Except that she was an idiot.

‘Another of those?’

She glanced up at the bartender and away. ‘No, thanks.’

Looking across the crowd, she caught sight of Julian on the other side of the dance floor, laughing with Candace Jackson, another of the civilian workers from headquarters who earlier had edged between her and Julian. Jackson was shapely and styled herself ‘Candy’. Which told Judd all she needed to know about her. Judd reached for her glass, gazed over it to Candy squirming around Julian, who looked to be enjoying himself. She rolled her eyes. She had to be thirty. At least. She looked away from them, her attention caught by Reynolds’ overenthusiastic antics.

‘Hey, Chlo. Fancy a dance?’ She looked up at Jonesy, then away.

‘Not in the mood.’

He looked from her to Julian and back. ‘Come on. We’ve all been working flat out. It’s time for a little R and R.’

‘I said no. I’m tired.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I’m going home soon.’

He studied her. ‘OK. If you want a lift home, come and find me.’

As he walked away her focus returned to Julian, now laughing with three officers. And Candy. She sighed, took a gulp of her drink.

‘Excuse me?’

She looked up, expecting to see someone she knew. It wasn’t, although she vaguely recalled seeing him during the evening. ‘I’m not dancing, thanks.’

He took a drink from the bartender and handed over money. ‘Good. Neither am I. I’d rather talk. I’m Sean.’

She told him her name, half-listened as he described his work for a computer company. Without disclosing the true nature of her own work, the talk between them began to flow. She was surprised when she next looked at her watch and saw that it was well after one a.m. She finished her drink, got down off the barstool, sending a glance across the club, not locating either Julian or Candy.

‘Thanks for the drink. I’m going.’

‘Where to?’

She turned to him, her eyes slowly catching up with her head. ‘Look, it was nice chatting, but I’m getting a taxi.’

‘Are you OK?’

‘I’m tired and it hasn’t been the greatest night.’

He gently touched her arm. ‘I like strong coffee after a couple of drinks. Stay with me and we’ll both have some.’

She hesitated. ‘If it’s quick.’

He ordered the coffee and they talked some more. She watched him walk to the other end of the bar and return with two cups. ‘Here you go.’

They sat and drank it, Judd anticipating he would start with the chat. He didn’t.

‘How’s that? Feeling better?’

‘Yes, thanks. I was fine anyway, but—’

‘I’ve ordered a taxi. You’re welcome to share it with me, but we’ll need to get out there and claim it before somebody else does.’

About to refuse, she had second thoughts. Sean continued making light conversation. She laughed several times.

‘That’s nice to hear,’ he said. ‘You looked unhappy.’

She shrugged. ‘Just pissed off with one or two people.’

‘Not me, I hope?’

She looked at him and saw that he was smiling. A nice smile. ‘One or two people I