Read Online Heated Beat 02 - Lucky Man by Garrett Leigh - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Garrett Leigh
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look. See if it’s anyone you recognize.”
“What’s the COD?”
“Too early to tell, but they reckon she hasn’t been out there for long. Hopefully it’s just an OD, but we need to be sure. I don’t want to be caught on the hop with this.”
Danny scowled, glad his boss couldn’t see him. Just an OD. Who cared if the dead bag of bones was someone’s daughter or sister, right? Fuck’s sake. The DCI was a good bloke, as bosses went, but bullshit like that wound Danny up. “I’m in Mansfield right now. I can be there in an hour. Are you sending anyone else?”
“Not yet.” The DCI cleared his throat. “It might be nothing. Have a look. See what you think. Any questions?”
“Nope.”
“Good. Update me in the morning, and keep it quiet, even in the office. If there’s a connection with Manchester, we don’t want it getting out unhandled.”
“Guv.”
Danny killed the call. It was too early to draw comparisons with the run of missing prostitutes in Manchester, but he kept his opinions to himself. The evidence, or lack of it, would do the talking.
He pocketed the phone. His mind was already slipping into work mode, but he needed to find Finn before he dashed across the city to examine a dead body.
He went back inside and found Finn shouldering his way through the crowd, the only sign of his discomfort the tight grins he sent the way of folk who called his name.
Danny met him halfway, curving himself around Finn in a way that shielded most of him from the jostling crowd. “I gotta go. Work.”
Finn’s smile faded. “Work?”
“Yeah. My DCI called me in.”
Finn was bumped from behind. He flinched and took a deep breath. Danny took his arm and pulled him as close as he dared in the crowded bar. “Do you need a lift home?”
“What?”
Danny leaned closer and repeated the question.
Finn shook his head. “Nah. The van’s out the back.”
Danny looked beyond Finn to the door he could hardly see through the throngs of people blocking their way. He needed to get a bloody shift on, but something, everything screamed at him not to leave until he’d seen Finn safely on his way home.
He put his mouth close to Finn’s ear again, too close, but he was past caring. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”
Chapter Seven
F INN PICKED out a melancholy melody on the battered ukulele he’d had since childhood. The wood was faded and chipped and covered with dubious stickers he’d never get off, but aside from his beloved Gibson, the tiny instrument was his favorite piece of kit.
He scribbled a chord sequence in his notebook. Bigsy, his main songwriting partner in the band, looked over his shoulder. “That’s pretty blue. Thought we were working on a banger?”
Finn shrugged. Bigsy was a great bloke to write with, good at keeping Finn on track when he got distracted, but it wasn’t working today. Finn was pissed off and lonely, and it was starting to show.
Lonely. Fuck’s sake. Get a grip, man. Finn gave himself an internal shake. It had been a week since Danny had bailed on him, and they’d hardly spoken since, but they’d known each other less than a month. What the fuck did Finn think he was missing?
He went back to searching out the roof-lifting chorus he needed for Bigsy’s stomping bass riff, but it was no good. His heart wasn’t in it.
Bigsy sighed, his frustration clear. He was used to Finn’s eccentric ways, but this kind of thing drove him nuts. Bigsy was a man who got things done. “All right, mate. Out with it.”
“Hmm?”
Bigsy kicked Finn’s shin. “Something’s got your bottom lip stuck out so far yer gonna trip over it. What’s up?”
Busted. Bigsy was the oldest member of the band by fifteen years, and he did his best to avoid the inevitable father-figure dynamic that created, but he was a shrewd bloke, and now he’d asked, Finn knew he wouldn’t quit.
“I’m waiting for someone to call me.”
“That bloke you’ve been seeing?”
“How do you know
“What’s the COD?”
“Too early to tell, but they reckon she hasn’t been out there for long. Hopefully it’s just an OD, but we need to be sure. I don’t want to be caught on the hop with this.”
Danny scowled, glad his boss couldn’t see him. Just an OD. Who cared if the dead bag of bones was someone’s daughter or sister, right? Fuck’s sake. The DCI was a good bloke, as bosses went, but bullshit like that wound Danny up. “I’m in Mansfield right now. I can be there in an hour. Are you sending anyone else?”
“Not yet.” The DCI cleared his throat. “It might be nothing. Have a look. See what you think. Any questions?”
“Nope.”
“Good. Update me in the morning, and keep it quiet, even in the office. If there’s a connection with Manchester, we don’t want it getting out unhandled.”
“Guv.”
Danny killed the call. It was too early to draw comparisons with the run of missing prostitutes in Manchester, but he kept his opinions to himself. The evidence, or lack of it, would do the talking.
He pocketed the phone. His mind was already slipping into work mode, but he needed to find Finn before he dashed across the city to examine a dead body.
He went back inside and found Finn shouldering his way through the crowd, the only sign of his discomfort the tight grins he sent the way of folk who called his name.
Danny met him halfway, curving himself around Finn in a way that shielded most of him from the jostling crowd. “I gotta go. Work.”
Finn’s smile faded. “Work?”
“Yeah. My DCI called me in.”
Finn was bumped from behind. He flinched and took a deep breath. Danny took his arm and pulled him as close as he dared in the crowded bar. “Do you need a lift home?”
“What?”
Danny leaned closer and repeated the question.
Finn shook his head. “Nah. The van’s out the back.”
Danny looked beyond Finn to the door he could hardly see through the throngs of people blocking their way. He needed to get a bloody shift on, but something, everything screamed at him not to leave until he’d seen Finn safely on his way home.
He put his mouth close to Finn’s ear again, too close, but he was past caring. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”
Chapter Seven
F INN PICKED out a melancholy melody on the battered ukulele he’d had since childhood. The wood was faded and chipped and covered with dubious stickers he’d never get off, but aside from his beloved Gibson, the tiny instrument was his favorite piece of kit.
He scribbled a chord sequence in his notebook. Bigsy, his main songwriting partner in the band, looked over his shoulder. “That’s pretty blue. Thought we were working on a banger?”
Finn shrugged. Bigsy was a great bloke to write with, good at keeping Finn on track when he got distracted, but it wasn’t working today. Finn was pissed off and lonely, and it was starting to show.
Lonely. Fuck’s sake. Get a grip, man. Finn gave himself an internal shake. It had been a week since Danny had bailed on him, and they’d hardly spoken since, but they’d known each other less than a month. What the fuck did Finn think he was missing?
He went back to searching out the roof-lifting chorus he needed for Bigsy’s stomping bass riff, but it was no good. His heart wasn’t in it.
Bigsy sighed, his frustration clear. He was used to Finn’s eccentric ways, but this kind of thing drove him nuts. Bigsy was a man who got things done. “All right, mate. Out with it.”
“Hmm?”
Bigsy kicked Finn’s shin. “Something’s got your bottom lip stuck out so far yer gonna trip over it. What’s up?”
Busted. Bigsy was the oldest member of the band by fifteen years, and he did his best to avoid the inevitable father-figure dynamic that created, but he was a shrewd bloke, and now he’d asked, Finn knew he wouldn’t quit.
“I’m waiting for someone to call me.”
“That bloke you’ve been seeing?”
“How do you know
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