Read Online Broken Fall: A D.I. Harland novella by Fergus McNeill - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Fergus McNeill
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desks.
‘I’ve just been on to the team doing the door-to-door.’ The little man’s eyes were bright, excited. ‘Uniform spoke to someone who reckons they saw a woman walking down Granby Hill, close to midnight, the night Albert was killed.’
‘So?’
‘According to the witness, this woman was wearing a blue carer’s tunic.’
‘Really?’ Harland hesitated.
Down the hill, away from the city centre but towards the water … and the bridge that led to Little Cross House.
‘We lifted the CCTV from the bridges didn’t we?’
‘Yes,’ Linwood answered. ‘Why?’
Harland frowned.
Why hadn’t they seen her? Then again, they hadn’t known what they were looking for. Maybe if they went through it a second time …
He shook his head unhappily.
‘No reason.’ He turned towards the door. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
Once again, the landscape was shifting beneath his feet, taking him by surprise. He really hadn’t expected it to be Tracey.
Chapter 10
Harland flung the car around the Bedminster Bridge Roundabout, accelerating from the inside to cut across the other lanes and swerve on to Coronation Road. A chorus of horns blared out angrily behind him.
‘No answer from her phone,’ Linwood said, holding the grab handle above the door as he pressed the handset to his ear. His eyes were locked on the road, limbs taut as he swayed in his seat.
‘Keep trying,’ Harland told him.
The little man nodded, ending the call and dialling again.
‘Any guesses as to why she did it?’ he asked, as the traffic thinned out again.
‘No.’
That was the problem. As far as he knew, there was no reason for Tracey to have killed Albie. And yet, they now had a witness statement that implicated her.
‘Who’s the witness?’ he asked, powering through the traffic lights near Asda, just as they were going red.
‘One of the neighbours,’ Linwood replied, swallowing as he stared out at the oncoming cars. ‘Well, I
say
neighbour; they’re not on Granby Hill itself, which is why it’s taken a while to get round to—’
‘What are you on about?’ Harland interrupted him.
‘Sorry. It’s a guy from Freeland Place, one of those terraces on the right as you go down? Anyway, the houses overlook Granby Hill, and this guy’s out on his balcony, smoking a cigarette. He says he saw a woman in a blue tunic, “like the kind nurses wear”, some time around midnight.’
Harland shook his head unhappily.
‘Any answer yet?’ he demanded.
‘Nothing. Just keeps going straight to voicemail.’
‘Well, it doesn’t matter now.’ He indicated left and braked hard, slowing to turn off on to a narrow side road. ‘We’re here.’
Little Cross House rose up before them, a dark edifice against the pale sky. Parking near the road, Harland got out and strode quickly along the line of residents’ spaces.
‘Does Tracey have a car?’ he asked. Working with different care clients, she probably did. But unless he had the make or registration, he wouldn’t know what to look for.
Walking beside him, Linwood shrugged.
‘Not sure, sir,’ he replied. ‘Want me to check?’
‘In a minute,’ Harland scowled. ‘We might as well try the bell first.’
They made their way down the concrete steps to the main entrance and stood under the broad porch. Harland squinted at the metal panel and pressed the 73 button several times but there was no answer.
‘Damn it!’ He turned on his heel. ‘Where the hell is she?’
Linwood glanced at his watch.
‘What time did the agency say her last appointment finished?’ he asked.
‘An hour ago,’ Harland snapped. ‘Call her again, will you?’
Linwood dialled the number once more, and stood, listening to the phone. Harland paced back and forth for a moment, wandering out from under the porch so that he could gaze up at the building, noting an England shirt fluttering among the washing left out to dry on one of the small upper balconies. A static CCTV camera gazed down at him, the
‘I’ve just been on to the team doing the door-to-door.’ The little man’s eyes were bright, excited. ‘Uniform spoke to someone who reckons they saw a woman walking down Granby Hill, close to midnight, the night Albert was killed.’
‘So?’
‘According to the witness, this woman was wearing a blue carer’s tunic.’
‘Really?’ Harland hesitated.
Down the hill, away from the city centre but towards the water … and the bridge that led to Little Cross House.
‘We lifted the CCTV from the bridges didn’t we?’
‘Yes,’ Linwood answered. ‘Why?’
Harland frowned.
Why hadn’t they seen her? Then again, they hadn’t known what they were looking for. Maybe if they went through it a second time …
He shook his head unhappily.
‘No reason.’ He turned towards the door. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
Once again, the landscape was shifting beneath his feet, taking him by surprise. He really hadn’t expected it to be Tracey.
Chapter 10
Harland flung the car around the Bedminster Bridge Roundabout, accelerating from the inside to cut across the other lanes and swerve on to Coronation Road. A chorus of horns blared out angrily behind him.
‘No answer from her phone,’ Linwood said, holding the grab handle above the door as he pressed the handset to his ear. His eyes were locked on the road, limbs taut as he swayed in his seat.
‘Keep trying,’ Harland told him.
The little man nodded, ending the call and dialling again.
‘Any guesses as to why she did it?’ he asked, as the traffic thinned out again.
‘No.’
That was the problem. As far as he knew, there was no reason for Tracey to have killed Albie. And yet, they now had a witness statement that implicated her.
‘Who’s the witness?’ he asked, powering through the traffic lights near Asda, just as they were going red.
‘One of the neighbours,’ Linwood replied, swallowing as he stared out at the oncoming cars. ‘Well, I
say
neighbour; they’re not on Granby Hill itself, which is why it’s taken a while to get round to—’
‘What are you on about?’ Harland interrupted him.
‘Sorry. It’s a guy from Freeland Place, one of those terraces on the right as you go down? Anyway, the houses overlook Granby Hill, and this guy’s out on his balcony, smoking a cigarette. He says he saw a woman in a blue tunic, “like the kind nurses wear”, some time around midnight.’
Harland shook his head unhappily.
‘Any answer yet?’ he demanded.
‘Nothing. Just keeps going straight to voicemail.’
‘Well, it doesn’t matter now.’ He indicated left and braked hard, slowing to turn off on to a narrow side road. ‘We’re here.’
Little Cross House rose up before them, a dark edifice against the pale sky. Parking near the road, Harland got out and strode quickly along the line of residents’ spaces.
‘Does Tracey have a car?’ he asked. Working with different care clients, she probably did. But unless he had the make or registration, he wouldn’t know what to look for.
Walking beside him, Linwood shrugged.
‘Not sure, sir,’ he replied. ‘Want me to check?’
‘In a minute,’ Harland scowled. ‘We might as well try the bell first.’
They made their way down the concrete steps to the main entrance and stood under the broad porch. Harland squinted at the metal panel and pressed the 73 button several times but there was no answer.
‘Damn it!’ He turned on his heel. ‘Where the hell is she?’
Linwood glanced at his watch.
‘What time did the agency say her last appointment finished?’ he asked.
‘An hour ago,’ Harland snapped. ‘Call her again, will you?’
Linwood dialled the number once more, and stood, listening to the phone. Harland paced back and forth for a moment, wandering out from under the porch so that he could gaze up at the building, noting an England shirt fluttering among the washing left out to dry on one of the small upper balconies. A static CCTV camera gazed down at him, the
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