Secret of the Dead by Michael Fowler Read Free Book Online

“Daft pillock!” He took another swill of his beer, then said softly, “anyway, what’s wrong with crochet?”
    They both cracked a grin.
    Grace and her husband David were the next to arrive. David joined them at the bar, while Grace sidled off to greet Beth and Sue.
    As Grace drifted towards where his wife and Sue were seated, Hunter couldn’t help but follow her with an admiring eye. Grace was not only slim and pretty but she had a real eye for style and fashion. Tonight she had on a brightly coloured print top over a pair of white linen trousers and was holding a suede clutch bag. Knowing his work partner, Hunter was sure there would be at least one designer label to her outfit.
    He had known a few lads who had tried it on with her over the years and she had left them with their tails between their legs. Grace had been married for sixteen years and he knew from their many conversations that David and her two daughters, Robyn and Jade, were centre-stage of her world. More so now, given what had gone on before with the ‘Demon’ case
    Hunter shook David’s hand and ordered him a drink. David had recently taken on a role as manager of an IT consultancy and Hunter reminded himself to ask him about the job later on in the evening, but he wouldn’t dwell on it. Computers were not his thing, though he knew from previous meetings that David was also an avid armchair sports fan with a mutual interest in soccer, so they had plenty to talk about.
    Mike Sampson was the next to arrive. He made straight for the bar, acknowledging them with a brief nod as he ordered two pints.
    Hunter knew that the first beer would hardly hit the sides before Mike was ready for the second. And he was right. Mike had devoured the pint before the second had been dispensed from the pump.
    He clonked the empty glass down onto the dark marble bar and wiped the corners of his mouth.
    “Christ, I needed that.” He said taking the second drink from the barman while digging into his trousers pocket for cash.
    Hunter returned the nod and raised his glass. “Down the hatch.”
    Mike took another sip of his beer. “I’m taking it easy tonight.” He patted his rotund belly. “You know I’m not a lover of alcohol.”
    His comment caused them to chuckle.
    Hunter eyed Mike. He wasn’t the biggest of coppers and for as long as Hunter had known him, even in uniform, he had been overweight. But what he lacked in stature he made up for with his sanguine character. He was a good thief-taker, a very good interviewer and he had a dry wit. When you were at a low ebb or there was a dark moment in an enquiry, you could always rely on Mike to lighten the moment, but he was also the consummate professional who did more than his fair share of the workload. Hunter had known Mike frequently come in on his day off to do an hour or two on his paperwork, and then spend an hour distracting others with his gossiping and joke telling. But Mike was also a complex character and very guarded when it came to his personal life. Hunter knew that he loved fishing and shooting, with a wide circle of mainly male friends, and he was very knowledgeable when it came to pub quizzes, but that was where it ended. He had never known Mike to be in a personal relationship.
    Mike had always lived at home with his mother until her unexpected death from a stroke three years ago and since then had lived alone. Hunter had been to the house a few times to pick him up or drop him off when they were going out for a drink and a curry and had been surprised when he had seen the interior. Not that it was untidy or dirty, in fact the opposite was true, the house was pristine. But the furnishings, the carpets, even the décor, were statements from the 1960s and ’70’s. It was stuck in a time warp in an era which belonged to Mike’s mum. Nothing had been upgraded or changed. It was almost as if he was leaving it as a shrine to the memory of his mother.
    Yet, despite his seemingly lonely home life,