The Jackdaw by Luke Delaney Read Free Book Online Page A

Donnelly asked.
    ‘You said there were witnesses,’ Sean reminded him. ‘We might as well speak to them seeing as how we’re already here.’
    ‘Aye,’ Donnelly agreed. ‘So which one do you want to see − the housekeeper or the yummy mummy?’
    ‘I’ll take the mum.’
    ‘That figures. Name’s Angela Haitink. Number eighteen.’
    ‘Thanks,’ Sean told him and headed off without saying more. A few seconds later he was standing on the steps of a five-storey white Georgian house with a black door so shiny it made his reflection vibrate when he used the ornate chrome knocker.
    Interviewing witnesses was never something he’d enjoyed. He always milked them for everything and anything they were worth, but he found their inaccuracies and hesitancy frustrating and annoying. He reminded himself not to treat Angela Haitink as a suspect. After almost a minute the door was answered by a tall, slim woman in her mid-thirties, with short blonde hair in a ponytail, wearing a designer tracksuit and trainers that he guessed would cost him a week’s wages. Her similarity to the mothers of the children taken by Douglas Allen reminded him of the impending trial he’d almost forgotten about in the fury of a new case.
    ‘Yes,’ she asked, her accent exactly what he expected. ‘Can I help you with something?’ She looked him up and down as if he was an unwanted salesman.
    He opened his warrant card and waited for a change in her expression that never came. ‘Angela Haitink?’ he asked. She nodded yes. ‘Detective Inspector Corrigan. I’m investigating the murder of Paul Elkins. I understand you witnessed his abduction?’
    She glanced at her sports watch, her expression finally changing to one of concern. ‘Do we have to do this right now? I’m afraid I’m running a little late.’
    He swallowed his resentment. ‘It is rather important,’ he told her. ‘A man has been killed. One of your neighbours.’
    She looked up and down the street before speaking again. ‘Of course. I’m sorry. Please come in.’ She stepped aside and allowed him to enter, heading for the kitchen after closing the door – Sean following, taking in the opulent surroundings. ‘It was a terrible thing,’ she told him without sounding genuinely concerned. ‘We’re all in a state of shock. I even knew the poor man, for God’s sake.’
    ‘You knew him?’
    ‘Well, I mean I said hello to him occasionally and I think my husband knew him a little better, but really – in a street like this. I just assumed he was being robbed, but then he bundled him into the back of a white van and drove away with him … I mean – my God.’
    ‘So you called 999?’
    ‘I had to – I mean, I had to do something.’
    ‘You did the right thing,’ he encouraged her, reminding himself to go softly.
    ‘I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. That’s when I phoned the police, but by the time they got here he was long gone and then I saw the news and found out that he’d been murdered – live on the Internet. Terrible. Just terrible.’
    ‘Which is why I need you to remember everything you saw,’ he told her as warmly as he could, ‘to help us catch the man who did this as quickly as possible.’
    ‘Of course. But I wouldn’t want anyone to find out I’ve spoken to the police. I mean, what if the killer found out? He could come after me.’
    ‘He won’t,’ Sean tried to reassure her, resisting the temptation to roll his eyes. ‘We don’t think organized crime’s involved here. This one’s not the type to go after witnesses.’
    ‘You don’t
think
?’
    ‘No. I don’t. But we can keep your identity secret, even if you end up giving evidence in court.’ He could have kicked himself as soon as he said it.
    ‘In
court
?’ she almost shouted. ‘I don’t think I could give evidence in court.’
    How he missed southeast London. He would have arrested her for obstructing an investigation by now and dragged her back to Peckham nick to be