Someone Who Isn't Me by Danuta Kot (romance novel chinese novels .TXT) 📕

and Becca started directing him. ‘It’s here,’ she said, indicating a shop front.

It was closed-up and dark. He knew this was the right place, but it looked empty and unwelcoming. There was the sound of an engine. A motorbike went past – a brief reflection in the mirror, then it was gone.

‘Well?’

This was it. He told himself to tread very carefully. ‘Becca, I need your help. I need to find out—’

‘I thought you were going to tell me about Andy,’ she interrupted. ‘I’m not a snitch.’

She’d snitched for Andy. Did he have to get into her pants to do this? ‘I didn’t say you were. I’ll tell you what I want to know, and then you can tell me if you can help. How does that sound?’

She sat back slowly. ‘Go on.’

It was hardly a ringing endorsement, but at least she was here.

‘I’m going to be straight with you, Becca. No bullshit. First off, have the police been in the pub to ask about Andy?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah. You.’

‘Apart from me.’

‘No. Not yet.’

‘I thought so. Now listen to me. Someone stuck a knife into Andy and left him to bleed to death. Miles away from here, down near the estuary. It was murder and it’s being investigated, but I think there’s something dodgy going on. The team investigating Andy’s murder – and that’s not me, I’m not involved – should have been in the pub first off, and they haven’t been. I’m trying to find out why.’

‘How should I know?’ She was still tense and wary. Her eyes looked shiny in the street lights. She sat with her head tilted back to stop the tears from falling – trying not to let him see her cry. Well, he’d wanted to shake her up, and he’d succeeded.

‘You don’t. But you might know something that will help.’

She sat up straighter, her face still averted. ‘What kind of thing do you mean?’

‘Is there something dodgy going on at the pub? Anything you’ve seen, any gossip, anything at all. People talk in front of bar staff. What was Andy after?’

He had to get her talking about the holdalls, about the photographs she’d sent. He wanted to persuade her to get the key off Carl Lavery, go down into the cellar, open that cupboard door and take pictures of whatever else Lavery stored in there, apart from ready cash. He needed that evidence. But if he let her know that he and Andy had talked about it – that Andy was a copper – she’d clam up.

‘There’s nothing dodgy. It’s just a pub.’ But her voice lacked conviction. He had a feeling she was keeping quiet in an effort to protect Andy, somehow, even though it was too late. He had to break through that.

‘Does the name “Stoner” mean anything to you? Or the name “Doc”?’ He was watching her closely to check her reaction. As far as he could tell, there was no glimmer of recognition. She shook her head.

‘OK. Thanks. I’d like to say that helps, but it doesn’t, not really. Not your fault,’ he added quickly, seeing her mouth open to protest. ‘You saw what you saw.’ He assembled his next words carefully. This was what he was here for. ‘You might still be able to do something – about what happened to Andy. I told you I was being straight with you. Andy managed to get himself mixed up with a drugs gang.’

Her reaction was immediate, and hostile. ‘He didn’t do drugs.’

‘No, he wasn’t a user. I don’t think he meant to get into trouble – but he did. He got on the wrong side of someone – and they stuck a knife in him. Becca, I can’t go in there myself asking questions. They know I’m a copper, they won’t talk to me.’ And Lavery would chuck him out on his arse if he tried. ‘But they’ll talk to you. Something made them think Andy was on to them. I don’t know what it was. If I could find that out, it will point to the people who did it. Do you have any idea?’

He saw her glance at him and then look away. Come on. Admit what you were doing.

‘I’m not a snitch,’ she said again, meaning, he was pretty sure, that she wasn’t going to snitch on Andy.

‘I know.’ He waited, but she didn’t say anything else, so he upped the pressure. Maybe a reminder would help. ‘I really want to get the people who did this, the people who killed him. Andy left a kid, a little girl. She’s got no dad now.’

He didn’t expect the reaction he got. She stared at him, her face blank with shock. ‘A little girl?’

Curwen opened his mouth to reply, then stopped. Woah! Andy hadn’t told her about Mia. He could use this. If she got angry with Andy, then maybe she’d stop being so protective.

‘Yeah. Mia. Cute little thing. She’s not two yet. They thought the world of her.’ Nothing but the truth, Curwen.

She was still staring at him. ‘You mean they were together, Andy and…’

‘Mel. His wife. Yeah.’ He got a moment of sour pleasure from the way her body tensed as she took in the news. That had hit home.

He carried on talking as if he hadn’t noticed her reaction. ‘I don’t know what Andy told you, but I do know there’s people out there on these streets, selling to kids, and I want to stop them doing that. You can help me, if you want to. If you don’t care, well…’ He shrugged.

Her face was a white blur in the darkness. ‘He… He texted me. He was away, but he texted me. Asked me to take photographs of the stuff in the cellar.’

‘What kind of stuff?’ The holdalls, you silly bitch. Tell me about the holdalls.

‘Carl, the landlord, you know, put some bag sort of things down there. He got pissed off that I saw them. Andy…’ He heard her swallow. ‘He wanted to know what