Angel Hunt by Mike Ripley Read Free Book Online Page B

sounds posh but in fact it doubles as a dining table, poker table and ironing-board.
    â€˜Real coffee,’ said Prentice. ‘That’s a treat.’
    â€˜Never been able to drink instant since I went to America the first time. I’ve no milk, but there’s sugar somewhere.’
    â€˜That’s okay; as it comes.’
    I moved a pile of CDs off the sofa-bed and sat down, I balancing my ‘I LOVE HACKNEY’ mug on one knee.
    â€˜I didn’t know Billy that well, in fact hardly at all. But yes, I think it was Chemistry. Is that relevant to anything?’
    â€˜No.’ He buried his face in his mug, which didn’t say anything but had a picture of a cat rolling a joint. ‘But it I was a hell of a coincidence, wasn’t it?’
    â€˜What was?’ I asked, playing dumb.
    â€˜Billy Tuckett being the person to drop in on you like that.’
    â€˜He couldn’t have known I’d be there. I didn’t know myself where the house was until the week before last. And anyway, I haven’t seen Billy for Christ knows how long, and I never knew him well. And –’
    â€˜Okay, okay.’
    â€˜â€“ another thing: what the fuck was he doing on the roof in the first place?’
    â€˜Ah, now I think I have a theory about that.’ Prentice leaned forward and put his mug on the table. ‘Can you spare me an hour or so?’
    â€˜What for?’ I asked suspiciously.
    â€˜I want you to come out to Leytonstone with me and let me show you something.’
    â€˜Well, I ... Look, Sergeant, just what have you got on me? There is no way I had anything going with poor Billy, and no way he knew I’d be in that house.’
    â€˜Of course not, Mr Angel.’ Prentice smiled, and that made me more nervous than anything. ‘It’s such a bleedin’ long-shot set of coincidences, it has to be true. Nobody, but nobody, would be daft enough to stick to a story like that if it wasn’t.’
    I was glad somebody else saw it my way.
    â€˜I think I know why Billy was heading for that house,’ Prentice went on. ‘He knew someone who used to live there before it was owned by a Mr ...’
    He reached inside his jacket for his notebook but I said ‘Sunil’ before he could clear his shoulder-holster, or wherever it was he kept it.
    â€˜Yes, er … Sunil. Now he’s –’
    â€˜In Pakistan, I believe.’
    â€˜Been living there about a year, is what I was going to say.’
    â€˜Oh, sorry.’
    Rule of Life No 37: when a policeman’s talking, shut up.
    â€˜Before that, the house was occupied by a Miss Lucy Scarrott. Does that ring any bells?’
    â€˜Should it?’
    â€˜I happen to know that the late Mr Tuckett was very close to Ms Scarrott.’
    â€˜But not close enough to know she’d moved out?’
    â€˜Possibly,’ he said slowly.
    â€˜Or maybe she sent Billy back to turn the house over; is that what you’re thinking?’
    He smiled, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck go rigid. ‘You’ve got a devious mind, Mr Angel. Ever thought of a career in the police?’
    â€˜Blue’s not my colour.’
    â€˜I’ve heard worse reasons.’
    â€˜I can’t possibly be tall enough.’
    â€˜They’re very flexible about that nowadays.’
    â€˜I’ve got a degree,’ I said, getting desperate.
    â€˜So have I,’ Prentice checked me.
    â€˜I couldn’t stand the short working week, and I really wouldn’t know what to do with all that bribe money.’
    â€˜Ah, there is that,’ he said, as if thinking it over. ‘But then, you don’t go into the CID straight off …’
    I licked a forefinger and made a ‘nice one’ stroke in the air. He was okay, but (Rule of Life No 38) the time to start worrying was when the policemen got nicer.
    It’s not that I have anything against them per se , of course.