The Hard Way Duncan Brockwell (romance book recommendations .TXT) 📖

on a Fiesta in the workshop, and she told me they were bringing out a new valve that would change the world. I remember thinking, ‘cuckoo’. It’s just a valve; how life changing can that be?”

Miller looked up at Hayes. “A valve?” She concurred with Mrs Edwards. How groundbreaking or life-changing could that be? “It has to be something else.”

Mrs Edwards opened her door. “We won’t find out until we get that key.”

She grabbed Mrs Edwards’ shoulder and pulled her back in. “Where do you think you’re going? We’re not breaking into that building; not unless you have a key?”

Charlotte shook her head. “No, I don’t, but you’re detectives. It’s my brother’s place. I give you permission to go in there and look around. Don’t you have little lock-pick devices like I see in the TV programmes?”

With a tut, Miller grumbled as she lifted herself out of the passenger seat.

“No, we can’t risk anyone seeing us go in there. We’ll wait until it’s dark,” Hayes suggested. She stared at Miller. “You’re not going to get all Girl Guide on me, are you? We need to find out exactly what we’re dealing with here, and getting hold of that key is vital.”

“You know how many laws we’ll be breaking if we do?” When she received pleading looks from both Hayes and Mrs Edwards, she sighed. “Are we ever going to have an investigation where we don’t have to break the law to do our job?”

Hayes grinned. “Probably not. It’s the price we pay, I guess.”

“Fine! We’ll come back here tonight. But if we get caught, it’s on your head, understood?” She only half meant it. “What are we going to do in the meantime?”

Taking her phone out of her pocket, Hayes asked Miller to get her notepad and pen. Hayes spoke to the receptionist, introducing herself. “Listen, we need your help. We’re at the workshop, and we can’t see any of the staff here. Could you look on your system and give me the names of all the employees registered as working here, please.”

Miller leaned on the bonnet, her pen poised. ‘Vanu Parekh’, ‘Paula Lang’, ‘Yurika Ishii’, and ‘Nathan Stewart’. Her partner thanked the receptionist and hung up. “Good going. We’ve got some tracking to do this afternoon.”

“They’re doing a proper number on your brother. Whatever he’s been making in there, it’s costing people their lives.”

Mrs Edwards stood and regarded Hayes over the roof. “I don’t know how. Valves are valves. Why would someone want to murder another person over one. Now, if my brother invented a new kind of energy, or new breed of phone, I’d understand, but this?”

Ignoring their chatter, Miller walked to their car, sat in the passenger seat and entered ‘Vanu Parekh’ into the PNC. There weren’t many, funnily enough. “I’ve got it. Not much info though. He lives a few miles away. Will take about an hour or so to get there.”

“Great idea. Good work.” Hayes sat in the driver’s seat, started the engine.

Leaning outside, she waved at Mrs Edwards. “We’ll see you tonight. Hayes will let you know what time we’re getting here.”

With the woman out of earshot, Miller turned to Hayes. “Let’s hope it’s not Mr Parekh who was run off the road.”

48

Walker pulled up behind a Honda Civic at a set of traffic lights. The radio crackled in the background, with Vodicka playing with it. “I’m worried, though. I haven’t heard a thing from him since I saw him at the pub. I told him to keep in touch. I even went over to his on Sunday afternoon. He wasn’t home. I hope he hasn’t done a runner.”

The Sarge sat next to him in the passenger seat. “I hope not, too. He’s still got to pass his psych evaluation and survive the inquest. He’s not safe yet, and it won’t look good if he does a runner.”

Walker studied Vodicka in the rear-view mirror. “What’s up, Voddy?”

“It’s pretty quiet, how about we drive over to Zuccari’s now? He might be in, you never know.” She leaned forward, waiting their approval. “It’s only ten minutes out of our way. No one’ll miss us for half an hour, will they?”

“What do you say, Sarge? Shall I go for his house?” Walker accelerated when the light went green, spotting a good turning point up ahead.

“Let’s go find him,” the sarge ordered finally. “See what trouble he’s got himself into. He’s such a fuck-up. I’m not sure my nerves can take the beating.”

Walker drove the BMW X5 cruiser through the capital’s streets until he turned onto Eastern Avenue, then onto the A12 towards Brentwood, where Zuccari had a tiny flat. They all listened out for the radio in case they were called to an incident. So far, the day had been quiet.

It took another fifteen minutes to arrive outside Zuccari’s block of flats down the road from the Slug and Lettuce pub on the High Street. They passed The Gardeners, Zuccari’s regular drinking hole. Walker parked on the pavement outside the building.

“Wait here with the motor, Voddy,” Sarge ordered.

Walker would have suggested himself. Their vehicle housed several weapons, a battering ram and rocket launcher. If scumbag locals got their hands on their cruiser, there would be hell to pay. At least Vodicka would put up a fight if someone came along. And she would win. “We won’t be long. I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

Acting like they were on duty, a pistol holstered on his hip, and his carbine in both hands, Sarge next to him, Walker made his way to the front doors. It always surprised him to see the level of degradation people put up with. The flats were beyond scruffy; they smelled too. The lift reeked of piss. “He’s on three.”

Holding his breath as much as he could, Walker joined Sarge on Zuccari’s floor. He strolled towards his front door, stood, knocked.

A noise came from inside.

He waved, knowing that Zuccari used his peephole. “Come on, mate, open up. We’ve come to see