The Enemy Within by James Craig Read Free Book Online Page A

body?’
    Holt grimaced. ‘I need a piss.’
    But her mind was in overdrive now and she kept pressing. ‘If he went to the trouble of moving the body, why didn’t he make more of an effort to hide it? It wasn’t going to take people long to find her in those woods. They’re small and there are kids crawling all over them all the time. Presumably, if he had left her in her house, it would have taken a lot longer for the body to be discovered.’
    ‘People do stupid things,’ was all Holt could offer. He’d read that in
Police Review
too.
    ‘So, what are you saying? Williamson went to the house to rob her? There was a scuffle and he tried to hide the body in the woods?’
    ‘He diddled her too, remember.’
    ‘So what is he, a robber or a rapist?’
    ‘Looks like both.’ Unable to face any more questions, Holt slipped out of bed. ‘Sorry, but I really, really need to take a piss.’
    She followed him into the bathroom, watching dispassionately as he sent a stream of golden urine into the bowl. ‘I’m sorry Rob, but you really haven’t thought this thing through, have you?’
    Shaking himself, Holt flushed the toilet. ‘That’s the great thing about you, Fran,’ he said, hands on hips, ‘you’re always at least one step ahead of us poor old public servants.’
    It’s not that hard, Mullin thought glumly. She gestured at his cock with her chin. ‘Are you going to wash that?’
    ‘For God’s sake, Fran!’ he hissed, grabbing a towel and stomping out of the bathroom.
    ‘It doesn’t take a genius to see how this could play out,’ she replied, following him down the hall. ‘Local activist murdered. MI5 snooping around, busy telling the local police what to do. A well-known NUM supporter nicked almost immediately. The conspiracy theorists will have a field day.’
    ‘Fuck off,’ he grumbled, running a hand through his unruly hair. ‘Can’t we have a simple shag without it turning into the bloody Spanish Inquisition? I need some food.’
    The kitchen in Holt’s flat was devoid of any decoration, save for a huge poster advertising Led Zeppelin and the other acts headlining the 1979 Knebworth music festival which covered almost the entire far wall. Having borrowed one of her boyfriend’s fetching green and red Shetland sweaters, Mullin sat at the small round table that had been squeezed into the middle of the room, munching on a slice of toast smeared with strawberry jam.
    ‘Sorry,’ Holt said through a mouthful of toast, ‘couldn’t find any butter.’
    ‘It’s fine,’ Mullin grinned.
    ‘I need to do some shopping.’
    ‘As always.’ They had been going out for almost a year now. In that time, as far as she was aware, inspector Rob Holt had never once set foot inside the local Co-op. Despite not technically living here, Mullin seemed to buy all of the groceries. She washed down the toast with some tea from the chipped Bay City Rollers mug that a previous tenant had left in the cupboard and gestured to the remains of the Wonderloaf by the sink. ‘Want some more?’
    Holt shook his head. ‘No, it’s okay. I’m fine.’ Getting to his feet, he shuffled round the table and squeezed behind her chair. ‘I’m sorry I got so grumpy,’ he mumbled, reaching forward and planting a kiss on the crown of her head. ‘I was just hungry.’
    ‘If sex takes that much out of you,’ she grinned, ‘maybe we’ll have to start rationing it.’
    ‘Hardly,’ he laughed. Reaching for the outsized red pot, he refilled his mug with tea, before adding a splash of milk from a carton in the fridge. ‘The job is really quite . . . challenging right now.’
    ‘I know.’
    ‘I understand what you’re saying about Williamson,’ he continued, ‘and I know we’re skating on thin ice.’
    You’re skating on thin ice, Mullin thought, saying nothing.
    ‘But I have to tread carefully on this one.’
    ‘Even if it means fitting up an innocent man?’ The words were out of her mouth before she had the chance