Father and Son by John Barlow Read Free Book Online

police.”
    “Motive? What’s your motive supposed to be?”
    “You think Lanny won’t think of something? Lanny always gets what he
wants. And what he wants now is to have this sorted out quickly and quietly.”
    “Well, whatever you decide,” she says as she opens the door, “I’ll
be around. But I’m not getting involved unless you take it to the police.
Understood?”
    “Fair enough. Dinner?” he throws out, more in desperation than hope.
    She stops, hand on the door handle, one foot on the pavement.
    “Okay. But don’t tell gingernuts in there. I get one call from her, you ’ll
never hear from me again. Got that?”
    “I’ll ring you later.”
    “I’m serious.”
    “I know. Get your thinking cap on. I’m paying.”
    “Yes you bloody are. Eight, my sister’s house.”
    She slams the door behind her and goes in search of her old white
Astra, which is showing all the signs of having spent a year in the abundant
rainfall of England’s second-best county.

Chapter Twelve
    He takes a taxi
down to the Park Lane. Doesn’t know why, really. If there’s no police, who’s
going to be looking at CCTV? And if anyone does start looking, the Saab’s
already at the scene of the crime, 7 a.m., right outside the front door. Still,
instinct says taxi.
    When he arrives two men are loading old floorboards into a van. The
young pasty guy in the joggers is one of them. He sees John, straightens up,
waits for him to pay off the taxi.
    “New floor?” John says.
    “Aye. New carpet an’all.”
    “I wish I could get tradesmen that quick. Anybody in there I should
be speaking to?”
    He shakes his head. “Just us three. There’ll be some blokes doing
the floor this after’, but they’re just contractors.”
    John had already drawn a blank with the three of them earlier this
morning. Hardly worth speaking to them again. They didn’t seem to know
anything, didn’t look like they were hiding anything either. Badly shaken up, and
not trying to disguise the fact, chain-smoking and giving the dead body a wide
birth. Roberto was one of theirs, and all morning they would have been asking
themselves the same question: why?
    “Okay, if you see Lanny tell him I’ll be in touch.”
    The guy turns, disappears back inside.
    What now? Roberto lived alone. No family. No friends that anyone
could think of, apart from those who drank in the bar. He looks up and down the
street. No one’s about. Is it worth sniffing round Roberto’s flat? It’s not far
away, nice city-centre bachelor pad, and he’s got the keys. No, something tells
him not to.
    This is ridiculous. He’s got nothing to go on. Next door the
take-away is already open for business. It’s worth a try.
    The place smells of frying oil and garlic. New oil as well, a nice
combination. But he’s not hungry.
    “Hey!” says a bald man from behind the counter. “How you doing? John
Ray, yes?”
    That scuppers his plan to play an insurance adjuster. He’ll have to
be himself now.
    “Sorry,” he says, “I…”
    “It is Mr Ray, isn’t it?”
    John nods.
    “Thought so. I bought a BMW off you last year.”
    “Ah, right. Is it going well?”
    “Like a dream.”
    “Can’t go wrong with a beemer.”
    A large, knuckle-heavy hand is held across the counter.
    “Nazif,” he says. “I met you down at the showroom when I picked up
the motor.” Nazif smiles as he pumps his hand enthusiastically. “I used to know
your brother.”
    “OK, right… yes.”
    That was two murders ago. Shit.
    “Freddy sold you the car, did he? Freddy Metcalfe. He sells most of
’em, to be honest.”
    “Yeah, great lad, Freddy. In here all the time. Loves his kebabs.”
    “That’s Freddy!”
    That’s Freddy . His heart sinks. Freddy,
his best friend and employee, the bloke who helped him build the new showroom.
What’s Freddy doing hanging about down here, at Lanny Bride’s place?
    “Seen him recently, have you?”
    “What? Freddy? Yeah, was in here last night.”
    “On his