Director's Cut by I. K. Watson Read Free Book Online Page A

to draw the eye.
He asked, “When was this painted, Sir?”
    “Finished about a month ago. No more than that. Paint's hardly dry.
What do you think?”
    Butler turned back to Harrison and said, “You’re right, you do have
a very beautiful wife and your description of the birthmark was spot
on. If you can give us a recent photograph and a car registration, we'll
go and try to find her.”
    On their patch three women were officially missing; Helen Harrison
would make it four.
    ht. A healthy stalk, tall or short, fat or thin, was
essential to the hearty bush. Abduction was way down, the least likely
scenario.
    .
As though reading Sam Butler's mind Inspector Jack Wooderson
said, “Is there any crime you might read into this?”
    “Apart from Imelda Cooke, no Guv.”
    “I've looked at it; we've spent a lot of man-hours, more than the
books can afford.”
    “She had kids.”
    Wooderson nodded thoughtfully. It was not a good sign when
women went missing without taking their children. But it did happen.
And just lately it was happening more and more. Responsibility was
something of the past.
    “Anything else?”
    “No .”
    “Then put it to bed. We've exhausted every line on this and there’s
nothing else to do. Unless you can come up with something new then
let's not waste any more time.”
    It grieved Butler to know that his inspector was absolutely right.
And yet he had a feeling about this one – the sixth sense that was the
mark of a good kozzer.
    An experienced copper's intuition was often more important than
the evidence, or lack of it. Here, there was nothing concrete, not even a
crime, yet Butler's gut tightened. It was the feeling you had the
morning after the night before that you couldn't remember. A
sickening feeling, just before you slept again, that somehow you'd
messed up. Here, save for Helen Harrison, and who could blame her
for leaving Ticker, the other women didn't fit the pattern to take a
walk. And yet, at the back of his mind, was the knowledge of how little
he'd known about his own wife when she'd had her affair.
It had gone on for months. Things had drifted, become
    commonplace, and it wasn't until the final few weeks that he suspected
there was something wrong. He was a copper, damn it, and even he
hadn't realized what was going on under his own roof, in his own bed.
It had just been a gut feeling that had led him home. Intuition. The
copper's best friend. And there they were, the after-blast of coition
burning their faces. Until they saw him. Then the glow faded quickly.
But had he not found them then he was certain that one day he would
have gone home to an empty house. Just like Ticker Harrison. Just like
Rick Cole.
    As far as Helen Harrison was concerned Butler guessed that she
was seeing another man. Putting distance between herself and her
husband was all that she could do. There could never be an amicable
arrangement with a man like Ticker, and for his wife, unto death would
be exactly that.
    DC Anian Stanford turned on the light and the flickering strip made
him blink, made him realize how much time had been lost while the
early afternoon gloom had closed in. He acknowledged her with a
quick smile then tuned into the report again, hoping to find that illusive
connection, wondering whether he should break the unwritten rule.
Taking a chance wasn't like him at all. Reluctantly, he lifted the
telephone and after a few moments said, “Guv, it's Sam.”
    “How did you get on with Ticker?”
    Butler double-checked that Wooderson's door was closed then in a
lowered voice said, “Listen, can we meet up tonight? Better still, come
to dinner.”
    “This isn't like you, Sam. You seem worried?”
    That was a joke although Butler didn't get it. The DS wasn't happy
unless he had something to worry about.
    “I saw Ticker, filed the report.”
    “Good.”
    “Come to dinner. Janet would love to see you again.”
    “Does she know I'm coming?” A long silence answered the
question. Eventually