Read Online Captcha Thief (Amy Lane Mysteries) by Rosie Claverton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rosie Claverton
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start on a mild day in autumn.
‘If only she would turn over, eh, Jason?’
Dylan, however, never knew when to keep his mouth shut.
‘I can take a look, if you like?’ Frieda offered.
‘I think we’ve got it,’ Jason said, too quickly.
But her expression didn’t flicker. Why wouldn’t she give anything away? She was another mystery to solve, and he was fascinated by her refusal to react. Professional veneer or personal protection? He longed to know the truth of her.
‘Dylan was just giving my tourer the once-over before I take her on a trip.’ Frieda reached out to caress the leather seat of her bike. ‘Sometimes it takes a professional eye to get the job done.’
‘Leaving Cardiff already? Case closed – or just not enough excitement for you?’
His tone was biting, but that professional comment had riled him. She was needling Amy and him, and he wasn’t going to stand for that.
‘Wales’ beaches won’t inspect themselves.’
‘You’re following the sand lead?’
Jason was aware of Dylan in his peripheral vision, dithering about giving them some space to talk or eavesdropping on the murder investigation some more. He shot his mate a look, and Dylan muttered something about brake fluid before making himself scarce.
‘The full analysis could take weeks. From the prison intel and the first-pass data, we have enough to narrow down the geography. We have to move fast if we want to stop the painting leaving the country – if it hasn’t already.’
‘You’re going alone?’
An Englishwoman alone in the heart of North Wales was just asking for trouble.
‘You want to be my chaperone?’
‘If you let me drive.’
The words were out before he’d thought them through, but he immediately liked the idea. Time to play with a beautiful bike, and get to know the beautiful woman who so puzzled him.
‘I’ll let you try her. I’m leaving in an hour. Where should I pick you up?’
‘I’ll meet you here,’ Jason said.
A woman on a motorbike showing up outside Amy’s would likely give her a heart attack.
Amy. Shit.
Jason wasn’t a free man. He had responsibilities to Amy. But if Owain was installing himself in their living room, he didn’t see why he couldn’t follow another lead. The young detective was capable of fetching in the sandwiches and Amy could make her own tea.
‘Better let the boss know then,’ Frieda said, reading his mind.
‘She’ll get it,’ he said, knowing exactly how big a lie that was.
Chapter 11
Forty thieves
‘There’s something odd about this girl.’
Amy continued to scan the flickering images on her screen, glancing at Owain’s reflection in the blank third monitor. ‘Odd?’
Owain waved his index and middle fingers vaguely at the centre of the screen. ‘She’s walked up and down the Impressionists gallery four times, but she’s not looking at the paintings.’
Amy paused her video as Owain tilted the laptop screen towards her. He played the footage at double-time and Amy watched one solitary woman flit around the gallery, inspecting every picture’s frame and every statue’s base without looking at a single work of art.
‘Checking out the security system,’ Amy said. ‘Can you get a good angle for a still?’
Owain stopped the video and moved to capture it.
‘Move it on a little,’ Amy nudged, and he obeyed. ‘There, stop. She was turning out of that glare. Worse angle, but clearer image.’
‘She’s probably too short for our thief,’ Owain said. ‘Look at her against “The Blue Lady” here. She’s nowhere near tall enough to cut the top of the frame.’
‘He wasn’t working alone. Keep looking – there may be others.’
Amy scanned through more footage, the chaos of the main hall causing her temples to ache. Or maybe that was her brain telling her to ease up on the caffeine, a war between the sluggishness of her sleepy brain and the need to quell the anxious fluttering in her chest.
Jason had been gone an awfully long
‘If only she would turn over, eh, Jason?’
Dylan, however, never knew when to keep his mouth shut.
‘I can take a look, if you like?’ Frieda offered.
‘I think we’ve got it,’ Jason said, too quickly.
But her expression didn’t flicker. Why wouldn’t she give anything away? She was another mystery to solve, and he was fascinated by her refusal to react. Professional veneer or personal protection? He longed to know the truth of her.
‘Dylan was just giving my tourer the once-over before I take her on a trip.’ Frieda reached out to caress the leather seat of her bike. ‘Sometimes it takes a professional eye to get the job done.’
‘Leaving Cardiff already? Case closed – or just not enough excitement for you?’
His tone was biting, but that professional comment had riled him. She was needling Amy and him, and he wasn’t going to stand for that.
‘Wales’ beaches won’t inspect themselves.’
‘You’re following the sand lead?’
Jason was aware of Dylan in his peripheral vision, dithering about giving them some space to talk or eavesdropping on the murder investigation some more. He shot his mate a look, and Dylan muttered something about brake fluid before making himself scarce.
‘The full analysis could take weeks. From the prison intel and the first-pass data, we have enough to narrow down the geography. We have to move fast if we want to stop the painting leaving the country – if it hasn’t already.’
‘You’re going alone?’
An Englishwoman alone in the heart of North Wales was just asking for trouble.
‘You want to be my chaperone?’
‘If you let me drive.’
The words were out before he’d thought them through, but he immediately liked the idea. Time to play with a beautiful bike, and get to know the beautiful woman who so puzzled him.
‘I’ll let you try her. I’m leaving in an hour. Where should I pick you up?’
‘I’ll meet you here,’ Jason said.
A woman on a motorbike showing up outside Amy’s would likely give her a heart attack.
Amy. Shit.
Jason wasn’t a free man. He had responsibilities to Amy. But if Owain was installing himself in their living room, he didn’t see why he couldn’t follow another lead. The young detective was capable of fetching in the sandwiches and Amy could make her own tea.
‘Better let the boss know then,’ Frieda said, reading his mind.
‘She’ll get it,’ he said, knowing exactly how big a lie that was.
Chapter 11
Forty thieves
‘There’s something odd about this girl.’
Amy continued to scan the flickering images on her screen, glancing at Owain’s reflection in the blank third monitor. ‘Odd?’
Owain waved his index and middle fingers vaguely at the centre of the screen. ‘She’s walked up and down the Impressionists gallery four times, but she’s not looking at the paintings.’
Amy paused her video as Owain tilted the laptop screen towards her. He played the footage at double-time and Amy watched one solitary woman flit around the gallery, inspecting every picture’s frame and every statue’s base without looking at a single work of art.
‘Checking out the security system,’ Amy said. ‘Can you get a good angle for a still?’
Owain stopped the video and moved to capture it.
‘Move it on a little,’ Amy nudged, and he obeyed. ‘There, stop. She was turning out of that glare. Worse angle, but clearer image.’
‘She’s probably too short for our thief,’ Owain said. ‘Look at her against “The Blue Lady” here. She’s nowhere near tall enough to cut the top of the frame.’
‘He wasn’t working alone. Keep looking – there may be others.’
Amy scanned through more footage, the chaos of the main hall causing her temples to ache. Or maybe that was her brain telling her to ease up on the caffeine, a war between the sluggishness of her sleepy brain and the need to quell the anxious fluttering in her chest.
Jason had been gone an awfully long
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