Read Online Binary Witness (The Amy Lane Mysteries) by Rosie Claverton - Free Book Online
Authors: Rosie Claverton
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the entrance to the stairwell. Jason squinted and grinned. “That’s a girl in a black coat.”
“That’s Melody Frank. Ponytail, black coat. Looks like a different woman. She’ll be on all the cameras now.”
Jason clapped Amy on the shoulder. “You’re brilliant.”
Amy felt her cheeks heat, as Jason’s eyes softened. It was different from Bryn’s praise, rare and gruff. This was affectionate, natural. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. But she found she wasn’t afraid now, that she didn’t flinch from his hand on her shoulder. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt free from fear.
Jason removed his hand. “I’ve gotta be off. I’ll be here at nine tomorrow, yeah?”
And like that, the moment fled. “You’re going?”
“I have a job in Canton. You should get some kip before you crash.”
She felt her head nod but the warmth did not return, and it was with a strange sense of emptiness that she watched him pack up his things and leave.
Chapter Twelve: Somebody Told Me
The best way to interview nightclub staff was to turn up as they were opening, flash the badge at the bouncer and loudly declare that you wanted to see the manager. Bryn found that guaranteed him a cosy back room and time with every staff member he wanted. Jean Moore, manager of Koalas and proud Australian ex-pat, wanted him the hell out of her club—preferably before it got too busy for her to spare even one staff member for his interrogation. Suddenly, with the boss on their back, the staff became delightfully willing to speak with him, knowing it got them in Jean’s good books—and out from under her watchful eye for ten minutes.
At this moment, Bryn had precisely nothing. They were random killings, unrelated murders. The victims had a handful of common friends, all women or bent as a threepenny bit, and there was no doubt in Bryn’s mind that this was a sexual crime. If he had a body, he could damn well prove it too. As it was, he had to rely on Amy’s mood and willingness to get up in the mornings. Though, as much as he distrusted her new ex-con assistant, he seemed to be doing her some good and Bryn might just get a whole piece of work out of her. Murder was a bit of a step up from phone scams and overseas money trails, but she was pulling her weight like a trooper and he was oddly proud of her for the breaks they’d got so far.
Amy figured the Pete guy for Kate’s boyfriend, so Bryn would save him for last, make him sweat. He went for Naomi first, the vic’s housemate. The last time he’d spoken to her, she’d been in shock, babbling on about the rubbish being taken out, and that meant Kate had been home that night, that she must’ve been kidnapped. Bryn hadn’t made head nor tail of it but listened patiently while she blew her nose a lot and worked her way through three cups of tea.
She looked more together now, made up and hair ironed out flat, and she sat calmly across from him. “I saw on the news. I told you, didn’t I? Where’s he taken her?”
Bryn hid his wince in his notebook. “We don’t know. We think he probably followed her for several days before he...made his move. We need to know what he knew—and if there was anyone hanging around, anyone—”
“It’s a nightclub,” Naomi said bluntly. “There are always creeps and weirdoes hanging about, guys in costume, beards and hats. There could be a guy in here every night with a different fucking mask and a general loser attitude—and we’d never recognise him. Know what I’m saying? He could watch her from the balcony and she’d never even know he was there.” She inspected her thumb, a bright blue plaster over the nail. Her other nails were all bitten to the quick, the skin picked raw. “Though I guess the bouncers might clock him. They’re good at picking out trouble.”
“What about home?”
“It was just a place we crashed. We never spent enough time there to notice stuff, never got to know the neighbours. I only
“That’s Melody Frank. Ponytail, black coat. Looks like a different woman. She’ll be on all the cameras now.”
Jason clapped Amy on the shoulder. “You’re brilliant.”
Amy felt her cheeks heat, as Jason’s eyes softened. It was different from Bryn’s praise, rare and gruff. This was affectionate, natural. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. But she found she wasn’t afraid now, that she didn’t flinch from his hand on her shoulder. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt free from fear.
Jason removed his hand. “I’ve gotta be off. I’ll be here at nine tomorrow, yeah?”
And like that, the moment fled. “You’re going?”
“I have a job in Canton. You should get some kip before you crash.”
She felt her head nod but the warmth did not return, and it was with a strange sense of emptiness that she watched him pack up his things and leave.
Chapter Twelve: Somebody Told Me
The best way to interview nightclub staff was to turn up as they were opening, flash the badge at the bouncer and loudly declare that you wanted to see the manager. Bryn found that guaranteed him a cosy back room and time with every staff member he wanted. Jean Moore, manager of Koalas and proud Australian ex-pat, wanted him the hell out of her club—preferably before it got too busy for her to spare even one staff member for his interrogation. Suddenly, with the boss on their back, the staff became delightfully willing to speak with him, knowing it got them in Jean’s good books—and out from under her watchful eye for ten minutes.
At this moment, Bryn had precisely nothing. They were random killings, unrelated murders. The victims had a handful of common friends, all women or bent as a threepenny bit, and there was no doubt in Bryn’s mind that this was a sexual crime. If he had a body, he could damn well prove it too. As it was, he had to rely on Amy’s mood and willingness to get up in the mornings. Though, as much as he distrusted her new ex-con assistant, he seemed to be doing her some good and Bryn might just get a whole piece of work out of her. Murder was a bit of a step up from phone scams and overseas money trails, but she was pulling her weight like a trooper and he was oddly proud of her for the breaks they’d got so far.
Amy figured the Pete guy for Kate’s boyfriend, so Bryn would save him for last, make him sweat. He went for Naomi first, the vic’s housemate. The last time he’d spoken to her, she’d been in shock, babbling on about the rubbish being taken out, and that meant Kate had been home that night, that she must’ve been kidnapped. Bryn hadn’t made head nor tail of it but listened patiently while she blew her nose a lot and worked her way through three cups of tea.
She looked more together now, made up and hair ironed out flat, and she sat calmly across from him. “I saw on the news. I told you, didn’t I? Where’s he taken her?”
Bryn hid his wince in his notebook. “We don’t know. We think he probably followed her for several days before he...made his move. We need to know what he knew—and if there was anyone hanging around, anyone—”
“It’s a nightclub,” Naomi said bluntly. “There are always creeps and weirdoes hanging about, guys in costume, beards and hats. There could be a guy in here every night with a different fucking mask and a general loser attitude—and we’d never recognise him. Know what I’m saying? He could watch her from the balcony and she’d never even know he was there.” She inspected her thumb, a bright blue plaster over the nail. Her other nails were all bitten to the quick, the skin picked raw. “Though I guess the bouncers might clock him. They’re good at picking out trouble.”
“What about home?”
“It was just a place we crashed. We never spent enough time there to notice stuff, never got to know the neighbours. I only
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