Someone Who Isn't Me Danuta Kot (best books to read .TXT) 📖

bruised face so she went past the shop, heading for the entrance to the gennel. As she reached it, she saw two of the lads from earlier hanging around, their hoods pulled up, their shoulders hunched. The lanky one wasn’t there. These were younger. They’re just kids, she reassured herself, but when they saw her, their eyes turned towards her like guns.

You’re dead!

She stopped.

The voice came from behind her and she spun round, half expecting to feel the punch that would be a knife in her ribs.

‘Becca? It is Becca. Isn’t it?’

A car had pulled up beside her and the driver, a woman, had wound the window down. Becca stared at her, taking in the short fair hair and the bright red glasses. ‘Who…?’

The kids melted away and were gone.

Chapter 29

Dinah watched as the lads who’d been hanging around vanished into the surrounding streets. She didn’t know them, but she recognised the style; the designer hoodies, the air of swaggering menace. Kids who hung around with gangs, kids who’d been drawn into the apparently easy pickings available from the street drugs trade.

The fair-haired young woman who’d been about to talk to them spun round in response to Dinah’s call. Dinah had recognised her – Becca Armitage, Andy’s girlfriend. Dinah was shocked as she saw Becca’s face. She’d been hurt – someone had hit her, if Dinah knew anything about it. There was a bruise running down towards her jaw, her lip was swollen and she reacted to sudden movement as if she was in pain.

The pieces began to slot together: Andy had a girlfriend at the pub, and the girlfriend had some connection with the kids the dealers were using. Was there a motive here for Andy’s death?

Who had hurt this girl, and why?

Dinah knew she shouldn’t be here, but she also knew Hammond was wrong. It was possible – probable – that Becca Armitage knew something, something that might help find Andy’s killers. She’d been his girlfriend, so she’d want to help, right?

Dinah wasn’t disobeying an order; she hadn’t gone near the pub. She’d seen this woman, Becca Armitage, being threatened – maybe – by some of the kids who hung around with the gangs. She wouldn’t be doing her duty if she didn’t follow it up.

If Becca Armitage didn’t know anything, then there was no need to say anything to Hammond. If she did… Wait and see, Dinah counselled herself.

She put on her best friendly smile as she got out of the car. ‘That looks nasty. What happened?’ As soon as she spoke, she knew it was a mistake to ask the question.

‘What’s it to do with you?’ Becca was instantly suspicious.

‘I’m Dinah Mason. You work at the Smokehouse, don’t you?’

There was a long hesitation before Becca said, ‘Why?’

Dinah took out her ID. ‘I’m investigating the murder of—’

Becca turned away. ‘I’ve already talked to someone.’

Curwen. He’d said he’d been into the pub. She knew from her months of working with him that Curwen had a real talent for getting up people’s noses, and it looked like he’d managed to ruffle Becca Armitage’s feathers. ‘I know, but I’ve got a few more questions to ask. You live above the shop, don’t you? Could I come in? Or we can sit in the car.’

Becca looked round, along the street where the kids had vanished. Dinah understood at once. She didn’t want to be seen talking to Dinah. ‘We can meet somewhere else, but I really need to talk to you.’

Becca chewed her lip and winced as she caught a painful bit. ‘You might as well come in.’ She pulled her hood up to hide her damaged face and led the way through the shop door, which was propped open with a stack of zinc pails. A familiar smell of polish, wood and household chemicals told Dinah this was an old-fashioned hardware shop, like the one that used to be down the road from her nan’s. A large man sitting behind the till glanced up as they came in. ‘Afternoon, Becca.’

Becca mumbled a response, keeping her face turned away. ‘Good afternoon,’ Dinah said, probably overdoing the chirpiness judging by the look of deep suspicion the man gave them as they walked through to the back of the shop.

‘Only I’m not meant to come through this way,’ Becca said over her shoulder.

‘You use the alley?’ Dinah asked. ‘It’s a bit…’ She didn’t complete the sentence. She wasn’t here to criticise. ‘He didn’t seem to mind,’ she said as she followed Becca up the narrow, dark stairway.

‘George is OK.’ Becca was fumbling with her key. Dinah followed her into a small bedsit room.

She could see at once that Becca had made the best of poor material. The room was painted white, which could have been bleak and cold, but it was warmed by splashes of bright red – a rug on the floor, a throw, a red lampshade. The same colour was picked up by a red tea caddy next to the kettle. Posters on the wall showed patterns of light – fireworks against the night sky, some kind of festival illuminated by flames and flares, a lake reflecting a forest. A mirror opposite the window helped to light the room up and create a sense of space. Dinah could recognise taste when she saw it, and Becca Armitage certainly had it, to judge by this room. ‘You’ve made it nice,’ she said.

An expression that was almost a smile flickered across Becca’s face before it settled into suspicious impassivity again. Something skittered out from under the bed, making Dinah jump, and vanished under the big armchair which had been covered by a warm-looking textured throw. ‘You’ve got a kitten,’ she said. She loved cats.

‘Yeah. What do you want? I’ve only got a few minutes.’

‘Yes. Of course. I wanted to ask you some questions about Andy Yeatson.’

Becca’s chin lifted. ‘Why should I know anything?’

‘They told me at the pub you were his girlfriend. It must have been a shock when