Death Dues by Geraldine Evans Read Free Book Online

making black tracks with her tears through the thick foundation on her face. Rafferty looked around for a box of tissues, and seeing none, he went in search of the bathroom and came back trailing a length of toilet paper. Silently, he handed it to her.
    Clearly she was in denial, given Harrison’s job was designed to make enemies. ‘Have you lived together long?’
     ‘Six months,’ she spluttered between gulping sobs.
    She could tell them little; she knew nothing about Harrison’s job beyond that he was a debt collector.
    ‘Did he have any family? Parents? Brothers or sisters?’
    ‘No, his parents are dead. He had one brother, but he emigrated to Australia ten years ago. I don’t know where he lives. John hasn’t heard from him in ages.’
    It didn’t leave much choice about who would have to do the formal identifying. Tentatively, he mentioned this to Annie Pulman, but all he received in return was a shocked stare. ‘Maybe later,’ he murmured soothingly.
    After another five minutes of this, Rafferty said, ‘I’ll leave Constable Green with you. Let her know if there’s anyone she can call to be with you.’
    He received no acknowledgement to this. But as there was nothing else he could do here for the moment, he nodded to Lizzie to get her out on to the landing so he could have a private word. ‘See if you can have a look around. Ms Pulman might give you permission, but if not…’ He left the ‘if not’ open-ended, confident that Lizzie Green would grasp his meaning. But, with or without Ms Pulman’s permission, the murder of her partner gave them carte blanche to give the place a thorough going over.
    After bidding the still sobbing Annie Pulman a polite ‘good evening,’ Rafferty left. He needed to get back to the station.
     
                                                     
    Jake Sterling and Des Arnott, the two cockiest of the leather-clad youths who had been hanging around on the corner of Primrose Avenue with Jake’s brother and another mate, were just as cocky an hour later as, one after the other, they sat in interview room two.
    Rafferty had seen numerous youths like this pair pass through the police station; the country had an entire generation of them; those who knew all about their “rights”, but nothing at all about their responsibilities.
    All four youths had been interviewed separately. So far, all the two cockiest had contributed were sneering “no comment”s to Rafferty and Llewellyn’s questions. Rafferty blamed the police programmes on the telly, which were full of youths like these two with their own “no comment”s.
    ‘You know I could charge you with wasting police time?’ he told Jake Sterling.
    Sterling gave a careless shrug of his head with its No 1 haircut. The gesture said it was all the same to him.
    It probably was, too. Jake Sterling and Des Arnott knew the score. They’d been here before, both of them. So had Jake’s brother, Jason, though Tony Moran, the youngest of the quartet, so far had a clean score sheet.
    The duty solicitor — Jake, knowing his rights, had demanded a brief from the off — looked as bored with the proceedings as Jake Sterling himself. He gazed into space, his pen poised to jot down anything of interest that Sterling chose to say. So far, his lined pad was as pristine as a fluffy summer cloud.
    ‘You don’t deny giving me a false name?’ Llewellyn asked.
    Sterling gave another shrug.
    ‘Was that a “yes” shrug or a “no” shrug?’ Rafferty asked, beginning to lose his temper. He’d had his fill of surly youths like Sterling. His brother Jason was coming along nicely in the same mould. Doubtless in a few months, Jason, too, would have the business of frustrating the police down to a fine art.
    This was a waste of time, Rafferty acknowledged to himself. He stood up and was about to formally suspend the interview when Jake demanded:
    ‘I can go, right?’
    ‘So you can say