Read Online Blood Brothers by Patricia Hall - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Patricia Hall
Tags: British Detectives
Ads: Link
Yard were fool enough to take him on. When I took him round it was obvious some of my contacts knew who he was and they weren’t best pleased. He’s trouble.’
‘Won’t he be useful in this murder case?’ Kate asked. ‘Didn’t you say you thought it was a gangster killing?’
‘Maybe,’ Barnard said, moving his wine glass as the waiter arrived with two enormous pizzas which Kate gazed at in amazement.
‘We’ll be here all night,’ she said and ignored Barnard’s shake of the head. He had, she guessed, different plans. ‘So why only maybe?’ she asked.
‘I told you. It’s a long story, going back to Georgie Robertson’s case. I’ve got a nasty feeling about the body we found on the building site. I think it might be one of the witnesses who’s supposed to be kept safe for the trial. You remember the old tramp at the church? It’s almost impossible to be sure, the state the body’s in, but I think it could be him. In which case I’m worried about the rest of them, especially the young lad, Jimmy.’
‘Jimmy?’ Kate sighed. Even the mention of the boy’s name cast her back to some of her darkest days. She chewed thoughtfully on a slice of pizza.
‘What about your friend Ray?’ she asked. ‘Could he be trying to get his brother out?’
Barnard stared at her in disbelief. ‘Ray was very keen back then to get his brother inside,’ he said. ‘He reckoned he was a liability. But at the moment I need to keep away from Ray. With Copeland breathing down my neck he’s the last person I want to be seen with for a bit.’
‘Seems to me you’re in a bind,’ Kate said.
‘Seems to me, you’re probably right,’ Barnard said gloomily.
FIVE
C arter Price picked Kate up after work the next day, opening the door of a black Citroën DS with a flourish and ushering her inside.
‘Very nice,’ she said as she snuggled down as he got back into the driving seat.
‘Not mine,’ Price said dismissively. ‘It’s best if the bad guys don’t see my car too often.’
Kate raised an eyebrow at that and wondered just how bad these bad guys were. ‘Where are we going?’ Kate asked, as she settled herself into her seat. She knew very little about cars but knew that this one was something special.
‘Just a little recce south of the river,’ Price said, swinging the big car effortlessly around Piccadilly Circus and into the Strand with a motion Kate had not encountered before and was not sure she liked. ‘I know where Reg Smith and his mates drink regularly and I’d like to just watch and see who he’s talking to. We won’t go inside. If you take snaps of the people going in and out while Smith is inside we’ll get some idea of what’s going on. Surveillance, the cops call it, but I get the feeling that there’s not much of it going on in Bermondsey these days. I guess he’s got the local nick pretty well sewn up.’
‘Won’t anyone recognize you,’ Kate asked uneasily as they crossed Waterloo Bridge and headed south down heavily congested main roads.
‘They might but they won’t see us if we stay in the car, petal,’ Price said reassuringly.
‘Or could they recognize the car anyway? It’s not exactly anonymous, is it?’
‘I told you, it’s not mine. I borrowed it. If we come down here again we’ll use a different one. Bermondsey and Rotherhithe are funny old places. They’re cut off from the rest of south London by the railway going up to London Bridge. People don’t move in and out much, though it took a hammering during the war. Reg Smith was born there, I think, and must still have lots of friends round and about, though I hear he’s living in some big house near Blackheath now. Quite smart, that area. But I told you. This is just surveillance. We’ll slide in quietly and park outside his favourite pub for a while and then slide out again. I’m not stupid enough to go head to head with Reg Smith. That’s a sure way to end up at the bottom of the Thames.’
‘Or
‘Won’t he be useful in this murder case?’ Kate asked. ‘Didn’t you say you thought it was a gangster killing?’
‘Maybe,’ Barnard said, moving his wine glass as the waiter arrived with two enormous pizzas which Kate gazed at in amazement.
‘We’ll be here all night,’ she said and ignored Barnard’s shake of the head. He had, she guessed, different plans. ‘So why only maybe?’ she asked.
‘I told you. It’s a long story, going back to Georgie Robertson’s case. I’ve got a nasty feeling about the body we found on the building site. I think it might be one of the witnesses who’s supposed to be kept safe for the trial. You remember the old tramp at the church? It’s almost impossible to be sure, the state the body’s in, but I think it could be him. In which case I’m worried about the rest of them, especially the young lad, Jimmy.’
‘Jimmy?’ Kate sighed. Even the mention of the boy’s name cast her back to some of her darkest days. She chewed thoughtfully on a slice of pizza.
‘What about your friend Ray?’ she asked. ‘Could he be trying to get his brother out?’
Barnard stared at her in disbelief. ‘Ray was very keen back then to get his brother inside,’ he said. ‘He reckoned he was a liability. But at the moment I need to keep away from Ray. With Copeland breathing down my neck he’s the last person I want to be seen with for a bit.’
‘Seems to me you’re in a bind,’ Kate said.
‘Seems to me, you’re probably right,’ Barnard said gloomily.
FIVE
C arter Price picked Kate up after work the next day, opening the door of a black Citroën DS with a flourish and ushering her inside.
‘Very nice,’ she said as she snuggled down as he got back into the driving seat.
‘Not mine,’ Price said dismissively. ‘It’s best if the bad guys don’t see my car too often.’
Kate raised an eyebrow at that and wondered just how bad these bad guys were. ‘Where are we going?’ Kate asked, as she settled herself into her seat. She knew very little about cars but knew that this one was something special.
‘Just a little recce south of the river,’ Price said, swinging the big car effortlessly around Piccadilly Circus and into the Strand with a motion Kate had not encountered before and was not sure she liked. ‘I know where Reg Smith and his mates drink regularly and I’d like to just watch and see who he’s talking to. We won’t go inside. If you take snaps of the people going in and out while Smith is inside we’ll get some idea of what’s going on. Surveillance, the cops call it, but I get the feeling that there’s not much of it going on in Bermondsey these days. I guess he’s got the local nick pretty well sewn up.’
‘Won’t anyone recognize you,’ Kate asked uneasily as they crossed Waterloo Bridge and headed south down heavily congested main roads.
‘They might but they won’t see us if we stay in the car, petal,’ Price said reassuringly.
‘Or could they recognize the car anyway? It’s not exactly anonymous, is it?’
‘I told you, it’s not mine. I borrowed it. If we come down here again we’ll use a different one. Bermondsey and Rotherhithe are funny old places. They’re cut off from the rest of south London by the railway going up to London Bridge. People don’t move in and out much, though it took a hammering during the war. Reg Smith was born there, I think, and must still have lots of friends round and about, though I hear he’s living in some big house near Blackheath now. Quite smart, that area. But I told you. This is just surveillance. We’ll slide in quietly and park outside his favourite pub for a while and then slide out again. I’m not stupid enough to go head to head with Reg Smith. That’s a sure way to end up at the bottom of the Thames.’
‘Or
Similar Books
