Crack Down by Val McDermid Read Free Book Online

with—can you give me their names and addresses? I’ll need statements from them to show you were talking about their record contract, rather than sitting in some dark corner negotiating a drug deal.”
    â€œYou’re not going to like this,” Richard predicted. Correctly, as it turned out. “I only know their stage names. Lilith Annsdaughter and Eve Uhuru. I don’t have any addresses for them, just a phone number. It’s in my notebook, but the boys in blue have taken that off me. Sorry.” He tried a smile, but the magic didn’t work on either of us.
    Ruth showed her first real sign of tiredness. Her eyes closed momentarily and her shoulders dropped. “Leave that with me,” she said, her voice little stronger than a sigh. Then she took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and pulled a packet of extralong menthol cigarettes out of her briefcase. She offered them round, but got no takers. “Do you suppose this counts as Thursday’s eleventh or Friday’s first?” she asked. “Either way, it’s against the rules.” She lit the cigarette, surprisingly, with a match torn from a restaurant matchbook. I’d have had Ruth marked down as a Dunhill lighter.
    â€œOne more thing,” Ruth said. “You’ve got a son, haven’t you, Richard?”

    Richard frowned, puzzled. “Yeah. Davy. Why?”
    â€œWhat does he look like?”
    â€œWhy do you want to know that?” Richard asked. I was glad he had; it saved me the bother.
    â€œAccording to the custody sergeant, when the officers searched the car more thoroughly, they found a Polaroid photograph that had slid down the side of the rear seat. It shows a young boy.” Ruth took a deep breath. “In a rather unpleasant pose. I think they’re going to want to ask some questions about that too.”
    â€œHow do you mean, a rather unpleasant pose?” I demanded.
    â€œHe’s stripped down to his underpants and handcuffed to a bed,” Ruth said.
    Richard looked thunderstruck. I knew just how he felt. “And you think that’s got something to do with me ?” he gasped, outraged.
    â€œThe police might,” Ruth said.
    â€œIt couldn’t be anything to do with us,” I butted in. “Neither of us has been in the back seat since we got the car. The only person who’d been in the back seat that I know of is the salesman, on the test drive.”
    â€œOK, OK,” Ruth said. “Calm down. All I was thinking is that the photograph might possibly have an innocent explanation, and that it might have been your son.”
    â€œSo what does this kid look like?” Richard said belligerently.
    â€œI’d say about ten, dark wavy hair, skinny.”
    Richard let out a sigh. “Well, you can count Davy out. He’s only eight, average size for his age, and his hair’s straight like mine, and the same color. Light brown.” The color of butterscotch, to be precise.
    â€œFine. I’m glad we’ve cleared that up,” Ruth said. “Any questions, Kate?”
    I nodded. Not that I had any hopes of a useful answer. “Richard, when you were in Manto’s, did you see anyone you recognized from the club the other night? Anyone a bit flash, a bit hooky, the type that just might have nicked the motor?”
    Richard screwed up his eyes in concentration. Then he shook his head. “You know me, Brannigan. I don’t go places to look at the punters,” he said apologetically.

    â€œDid you do a number on anybody about the car?”
    â€œI didn’t mention it to a soul. I’d just have looked a dickhead next week, back with my usual wheels,” he said, with rare insight.
    â€œI don’t suppose you know who’s doing the heavy-duty stuff round town these days?”
    Richard leaned forward and stared into my eyes. I could feel his fear. “I’ve got no interest,” he said, his