The Man Who Couldn't Lose by Roger Silverwood Read Free Book Online

in her purse, her mother had twenty and there was not another bean in the house. The larder was well stocked and she had two bottles of vodka and a hundred cigarettes in the cupboard. It just doesn’t add up.’
    Harker pursed his lips, then said, ‘Perhaps she’s on the game?’
    Angel smiled. ‘Have you seen her?’
    He shook his head.
    â€˜No, sir,’ Angel continued. ‘Gloria Swithenbank had been tipped off. And she’d had time to get the drugs and money hidden, where we couldn’t find them, get the house straight, make herself presentable and then get her and her mother positioned in front of the telly like two spiced pussies waiting for a knock on the door.’
    Harker wrinkled his nose.
    â€˜I don’t know,’ he said, shaking his head.
    â€˜Where could the woman hide the stuff so quickly and thoroughly?’
    Harker persistently shook his head.
    Angel said: ‘The dog handler said his dog reacted positively at two places in the kitchen.’
    â€˜Really? But then again, could we really put our trust in a dog?’
    Angel grabbed the advantage.
    â€˜Would you rather put your trust in a man, sir?’
    Harker frowned.
    â€˜What man?’
    â€˜Any man, sir. Say a professional man. Say a doctor?’
    â€˜A doctor?’ he said grandly. ‘Well, yes. Of course, a doctor would be ideal.’
    â€˜Such as Harold Shipman.’
    Harker’s eyes flashed. ‘I didn’t mean a villain!’
    Angel was dead serious.
    â€˜There’s no deceit in a dog, sir. A dog isn’t a villain. It isn’t dishonest. It hasn’t a record. All it has to hide is bones.’

FOUR
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    â€˜Come in, Ron,’ Angel said, pointing to the chair. ‘What did you make of it?’
    â€˜Harry Hull was released four weeks ago from Armley,’ Gawber said, closing the door.
    Angel’s eyes lit up.
    â€˜Been over his pad?’
    â€˜Yes, a little two-room flat, part of a big house, number 101, on Earl Street, but there was nothing of Mrs Buller-Price’s there. Or anything else he shouldn’t have. He’s getting very clever is our Harry.’
    â€˜Did he have an alibi?’
    â€˜No, sir. Says he was in the flat the whole time. No money to go out and enjoy himself, he says. Can’t prove it though.’
    â€˜Useless, then. I still reckon it’ll be him.’
    Angel rubbed his chin slowly, then added, ‘And how was Mrs Buller-Price, then?’
    â€˜You know her, sir. Cheerful and resilient, even though she’s had some very choice pieces stolen. Optimistic, too. She expects us to recover them.’
    Angel sighed. ‘You made a list?’
    Gawber dug into his inside pocket, pulled out a folded sheet of A4 and handed it to him.
    Angel quickly scanned the list, which comprised £200 in £20 notes, two emerald and diamond rings, a pearl choker, fourteen small silver items including picture frames, and a sixteen-inch tall white pot figure of a French poodle.
    Gawber said: ‘I don’t understand why anyone would steal a pot poodle of that size … or any size for that matter. I mean, it wasn’t valuable. It wasn’t antique. It would be heavy, awkward to carry and difficult to fence.’
    Angel nodded.
    â€˜A fence would want to charge him rent for taking it in,’ he said wryly.
    â€˜Does Harry Hull like dogs?’ Gawber asked.
    â€˜The only thing Harry Hull likes apart from money, booze and women is Harry Hull. I’ve got another idea. Nip down to Dolly Reuben’s. See if she’s got a white pot dog for sale.’
    Dolly Reuben ran a tatty secondhand furniture shop on Cemetery Road. It had been the front for her husband’s business. Frank Reuben was the biggest fence in South Yorkshire, until he was caught in possession of £4,000 worth of newly minted 20p pieces stolen from a security van in transit between South Wales and London. Frank was in the