The Hard Way by Duncan Brockwell (electronic book reader .txt) 📗

Gillan managed to speak to a judge about obtaining Henry Curtis and Colin Fisher’s accounts, both joint and separate.

As a last resort, they would request to see Charlotte Edwards’ accounts, although they had no reason to suspect she was involved at all. If nothing came of it, they lost nothing. Covering all their bases was the important thing.

Miller kept coming back to thinking it might not be anything to do with Richard Fisher, Colin Fisher, Henry Curtis, or Charlotte Edwards. It might still be about Brandy Reid, or Kurt Austin, or their other halves.

Charlotte Edwards telling them about one of Richard’s employees dying in a car crash piqued her and Hayes’ interest. So far, they had three bodies in the radio station, Henry in his bathtub, and now Richard’s employee wrapped around a tree. If only they could find a connection between them.

The doorbell rang. “About bloody time.” Miller strode into her hallway and up to the door. A peak through the peephole told her it was Luke. “Hey, you!” She gave him a long kiss before inviting him in. “Are you sober? I expected you to come home swaying.”

“Nah, I wish. I was too busy trying to convince the Sarge not to go after Melodi Demirci and her arsehole cousins, wasn’t I? He and Voddy are talking about taking care of them, saying how the world will be a better place without them.”

Miller took him through to the kitchen. “They’re kidding, though, right? I mean, they wouldn’t go through with something like that, would they?”

“Yesterday I’d have said no.” Luke went into her fridge and took out a can of lemonade, rather than a can of Carling. He yanked the ring pull. “But now, I don’t know. You should’ve heard the way they were talking. They sounded serious to me.”

“What did you say to them? Please tell me you didn’t go along with it.” Miller took out a lemonade for herself. “You did, didn’t you?”

“What did I just say? I was too busy trying to talk them out of it.”

She could imagine him going along with his Sarge. Since getting to know him, Miller had noticed Walker’s lack of self-esteem, as hard to imagine as it was, given his looks. It took courage to go against the grain, to go against the status quo. “Well, good, because the last thing I want is you getting in trouble because a so-called mate can’t keep it in his pants, and lies about who he is to get credit in a casino. Remember, Zuccari’s in the wrong here.”

She stepped up to Luke, put her arms around his neck.

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.” He kissed her, putting the can on the counter behind him. “I can handle the Sarge. And we have more important things to discuss.”

“Oh really? And what might they be, hmm?” She loved his face, loved his dimples, and the way his left central incisor bent ever so slightly over his right, giving his teeth an almost-perfect appearance.

“We’ve only done it in your bedroom, you know. How about we christen some other rooms?”

“I think it would be rude not to.”

Day 6

Sunday, June 17th

41

Paula Lang dropped the cutlery into the dishwasher’s holder. Placing the plates in their slots, she closed the door and switched on the machine, listening out for the whir. On two separate occasions, she neglected to and ended up with dirty dishes in the morning for which her husband chided her. “Is there anything else out there that needs rinsing?”

“A couple of glasses, I think.” Her husband went into the dining room, bringing them back for her to hand rinse. “I think that went really well, don’t you?”

What her husband was really getting at, was that she hadn’t fought with her sister for once. Only because she’d been separated from her for the duration of the family barbecue. “Yeah, sure. It went okay.” Even with her German accent, her husband caught the sarcasm in her tone.

He was such a turd. It defied belief sometimes that she married him. Looking at him now, with his massively receding hair, big cheeks and round glasses, he was such a pretentious arsehole. And a massive nerd. All she needed to do was sit him in front of Star Wars, Star Trek, anything with Star in its title, and he was happy.

For the past year she’d been counting down the days until Fisher Valves went public with their project. Because as soon as Richard showed the world what they had to offer, the company’s coffers would be full, and her contract kicked in. She had her solicitor poised to start divorce proceedings.

When they married, before they said their vows, he made her sign a prenuptial agreement so that she couldn’t touch his earnings. Another dick move, by a turd of a man, she thought, washing a wine glass by hand, just the way he liked. He actually thought he was the breadwinner. She omitted to inform him of the contract she’d signed when she started on the project at Fisher Valves.

As and when the project went into production, she would start receiving a six-figure pay out, as stipulated in the contract. Paula wouldn’t need her husband anymore. She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he opened the letter.

Her five-figure salary during the project had helped, but she was certain he wouldn’t lay a finger on her money once her contract changed. Richard told her last week that the press conference was imminent. Now she knew it was on Friday. “Here, you dry.” She handed her husband a tea towel.

The doorbell rang. “You’re not expecting anyone, are you?”

He shook his head, said no, carrying on with the drying up.

“I guess I’ll get it, then, shall I?”

Honestly, sometimes she just wanted to lamp him, he was so lazy. Yanking a tea towel from the oven handle, she walked through the hallway to the front door. When she peered through the peephole, two guys in