Turnstone by Graham Hurley Read Free Book Online Page B

creams.
    By the boy’s eleventh birthday, Faraday knew he’d turned the numbing double-trauma of those early years – his wife’s death, his son’s deafness – into something infinitely precious, and to mark the occasion he’d bought J-J the first volume of the birder’s bible. The books were called
Birds of the Western Palearctic
. At £85 each they weren’t cheap, but nine birthdays later J-J had the full set on a shelf of his own beside the ancient roll-top desk. Even now, the sight of those books still gladdened Faraday’s heart.
    *
    It was later, when he was back in the house, that Harry Wayte phoned. For once, the Drugs Squad DI had no favours to ask. Instead, he just wanted to say thank you. The stuff they’d got from young Scottie was priceless. Red Rum was back on the rails for the gallop to the line and if things went well, then some of the credit belonged to Faraday’s team.
    Faraday resisted the temptation to inquire further about Harry’s impending drugs bust. The thought of Paul Winter buying everyone celebratory drinks in the police bar turned his stomach.
    On the phone, Harry changed tack.
    ‘Understand you’re up to HQ for interview tomorrow. Going for one of the MI Teams? Is that right?’
    Faraday was watching a cormorant preening its feathers on a piling at the water’s edge. A posting to one of the force’s three Major Incident Teams was regarded as a plum assignment, though Faraday had his doubts.
    ‘That’s right,’ he confirmed. ‘But it’s their idea more than mine.’
    ‘Don’t you fancy it? Pick of the good quality crime?’
    ‘Yeah, of course I do.’
    ‘What’s the problem, then?’
    Faraday grunted something about management structures but refused to go any further. Harry began to laugh.
    ‘It’s true, then,’ he said. ‘The man who hates delegating can’t take orders either.’
    Faraday didn’t reply, letting the conversation trail away. It was probably fair to say that he put too much faith in his own judgement, and it was truer still that he had little respect for most of his superiors, but this was neither the time nor the place to share confidences. Finally Harry wished him good luck and rang off. Faraday was still staring out of the window. The cormorant had gone.

Five
    The fact that Scott Spellar phoned first thing in the morning was a good sign. He wasn’t pissed and there was nothing that Winter had yet come across to suggest that he was sampling the merchandise he delivered to Marty Harrison. No, the boy just wanted a meet.
    Winter was up in his bathroom, having a shave. He named a big department store in the city centre and then glanced at his watch.
    ‘The coffee place is up on the top floor. Be there for ten.’
    He wiped the foam from his mobile, returned it to the glass shelf under the mirror, and carried on shaving.
    Scott Spellar was already in the store cafeteria by the time Winter arrived. The moment he sat down, he made it plain why he’d rung.
    ‘Someone’s nicked some money of mine,’ he said, ‘and I want it back.’
    ‘I’ve got it.’
    ‘How come?’
    ‘Safe keeping.’
    ‘You took it? Just like that?’
    ‘Yeah. Call it a favour, area like yours.’
    Scott stared at him for a moment or two. He hadn’t shaved for several days and the shadow added years to his face. He looked pale and drawn, and the way his eyes kept flicking towards the top of the escalator spoke volumes about the state of his nerves. He could be a tout already, Winter thought.
    ‘How much was there?’ Scott asked.
    ‘Six hundred pounds.’
    ‘There was eight hundred on Friday.’
    ‘Are you telling me I can’t count?’
    ‘No. I’m just saying someone’s nicked two hundred quid of my money.’ He paused. ‘So where’s the rest?’
    Winter reached inside the breast pocket of his jacket and laid the wallet on the table between them. Scott tore it open. Apart from his driving licence and a carefully folded photo of Steve Claridge, it was empty.
    He