Murder... Now and Then by Jill McGown Read Free Book Online Page A

time?’ she asked. ‘Uncle and niece?’
    Max leant over the roof of the car, despite its clammy dampness. ‘Have you any idea how lucky you are?’ he asked. ‘You could have been picked up by someone who raped and murdered you. But you weren’t. You were picked up by me. I was already hours late getting home, and I’m being best man at someone’s wedding tomorrow morning – back out in the sticks somewhere. I have to go into the office before I leave, so I have to be up very early. Notwithstanding all of that, I stopped and gave you a lift because I couldn’t bear to think of what might happen if I didn’t. I brought you here in one piece, and I’ve found you somewhere that’s clean and comfortable and respectable to spend the night. I would now like to give myself the peace of mind of knowing that you’ve actually booked in to it, and you’re not going to sleep on a park bench.’
    â€˜And all you want is to come in with me?’ she asked, her voice still suspicious.
    â€˜My dear girl, I don’t want to come in with you at all! I want to go home and go to bed. With my wife. Who will by now think that I have been involved in a multiple pile up. But I don’t think you’ll get very far on your own. Try, by all means.’ He made as if to get back in the car.
    â€˜All right,’ she conceded. ‘You can come in with me.’
    â€˜Good,’ he said. ‘And now perhaps I’ve earned the right to know your name?’
    She hesitated.
    â€˜Your nom de guerre , at least,’ he said.
    â€˜Catherine Barnes,’ she told him. ‘It’s my real name,’ she added grudgingly.
    â€˜Max Scott.’ He smiled. ‘That’s my real name, too,’ he said.
    They shook hands over the roof of the car, and for the first time, she smiled at him.
    Detective Sergeant Lloyd looked through the binoculars from his vantage point on the ship-like balcony of the thirties cinema turned bingo hall. A residential area, quiet and peaceful on this cold, wet London night, lay directly below. But it had cars cruising at all hours of the day and night, according to the residents, who were tired of picking their way through the French letters as they took the short cut across the waste ground to the tube station.
    Ten thirty. Normal people were just thinking of leaving the pub. Some would go home to bed, some would carry on drinking at nightclubs, and some would indeed go cruising the streets looking for some action. All of these activities seemed preferable to freezing to death while directing Operation Kerbcrawl.
    A couple of girls appeared, strolling up and down the damp pavement, leaning against the wall, occasionally chatting to one another. Their breath, like his, steamed in the night air. Unlike him, they were not wearing two pullovers and an overcoat and scarf. Kids, both of them, half naked, and half frozen.
    He thought of Linda, then. Three years old, and cheeky with it. How did you know where they would end up? These girls had been three years old, once. And not all that long ago by the look of it. They didn’t all come from stereotypically deprived backgrounds. Some of them simply fetched up in London, homeless, jobless, shiftless. They could see no easier, no quicker, or perhaps simply no other way of making money.
    He was getting depressed. Perhaps because he would rather be here than at home. Home wasn’t much fun at the moment. Barbara didn’t like it in London. They had been here five years now, and she liked it no better than she had to start with. Still, things would improve when he got promotion, which shouldn’t be too far off. Peter could get his bike, the one that Lloyd had marked down for future purchase when the intended recipient was three weeks old. He was almost seven now, and he was tucked up in bed like all right-thinking people. Not that Lloyd would have been tucked up in bed if he had