Love You Dead by Peter James Read Free Book Online

breath.’
    ‘Yeccchhhh!’
    ‘A lot of French people love it,’ Grace went on. ‘It’s an acquired taste. I’ll insist you try one.’
    ‘You’re a closet sadist, aren’t you?’
    ‘Nope, I just believe in the maxim,
I look and I see, I listen and I hear, I do and I understand
.’
    ‘What’s to understand about eating a pig’s colon?’
    ‘All part of your education. And the
entente cordiale.
Never diss other people’s cultures. I think a trip to France to liaise with the French police and see Crisp would be
good. And you might enjoy the break, you’ve not really given yourself any time out since Ari died.’
    Glenn Branson’s estranged wife, Ari, had died after an allergic reaction to the anaesthetic in surgery, following a bicycle accident. Subsequently the detective inspector had begun dating
a bright young reporter on the local paper, the
Argus
, and was now going to marry her. Glenn had given him the news while Roy had been in hospital. At first he’d been cautious for
his mate, marrying a newspaper reporter, but he liked her, and having seen the chemistry between them he felt they seemed right together.
    ‘Yeah, right.’
    ‘I’m serious.’
    ‘And come home to Siobhan with that on my breath?’
    ‘So you’ve gone off Lyon now, have you?’ Grace chided.
    ‘No, I’ll go.’
    ‘We’ll apply for an extradition order, but almost certainly they’re going to want to keep him in France at least until that trial is over. And there’ll be a ton of
bureaucracy to work through for the extradition procedure. There are various protocols involved with a European Arrest Warrant. First we need to get the Crown Prosecution Service to agree that he
will face charges, prior to starting the whole process. He’ll have to appear in front of a French magistrate before being released to the British police. The National Extradition Unit will be
responsible for bringing him back to the UK, but the French police want you to travel to Lyon to share the intelligence we have on Crisp. They’ve informed me there’s been a development
in Crisp’s involvement. I’ve got a pile of paperwork that’s arrived from France, in French, which we’ll need to get translated, so we’ll need to find out who the
preferred external translation company is.’
    ‘That’s good,’ Glenn Branson said.
    ‘Why’s that?’
    ‘It’ll give me time to go to a chemist and buy some breath freshener – for the sausage thing.’
    ‘Yeah, from past experience dealing with French police bureaucracy, you’ll have plenty of time.’

9
Wednesday 18 February
    Jodie sat, tearfully, in the huge, old-fashioned office of Paul Muscutt, the senior partner of the Manhattan law firm of Muscutt, Williams and Wooding, and executor of the
estate of the late Walter Irwin Klein. Twenty-seven storeys above Fifth Avenue, and with a glorious view through the window to her left directly down onto St Patrick’s Cathedral, she was
trying to mask her excitement. Warm sunshine streamed in. Jet lag was helping to take the edge off her skiing tan, making her look something of the pale, grieving widow she was trying to be.
    Holding her lace-edged handkerchief, she sipped her strong coffee.
    Muscutt, who had momentarily been called out of his office, strode back in through the door and headed towards her. In his forties, conservatively dressed, with neat brown hair, he had a
no-nonsense businesslike air.
    He shook her hand firmly. ‘My deepest sympathy, Mrs Bentley.’
    ‘Thank you,’ she said, sounding as if she was stifling a sob.
    ‘I’m afraid the media are really going for the suicide angle,’ he said, slipping down into the black leather chair behind his uncluttered desk.
    ‘Suicide? What do you mean?’
    ‘It’s only a theory, of course, from the French police in the Alps, but with all the financial trouble poor Walt had gotten himself into, it would fit.’
    ‘I’ve read a bit on the internet, after the barrage of press at the