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Looking Good Dead

Looking Good Dead

Titel: Looking Good Dead Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Peter James
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that?’
    Downstairs he suddenly heard Lady barking. Then the doorbell rang. He heard Max shout out, ‘MUMMY! MUMMY! MUMMEEEEEEE! MUMMY’S HOME!’
    Tom, his heart racing with sudden elation, tore down the stairs. Max was already opening the front door.
    Sergeant Jon Rye stood there, holding his leather laptop case.

56
    Roy Grace, sitting at the workstation in MIR One alongside most of his team, was running his eye over the latest incident reports log on the Vantage screen in front of him. It was a quarter to eight on Sunday evening, and although he still wasn’t feeling hungry, he could feel himself getting shaky from lack of sugar or too much caffeine – or both, and was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on his tasks.
    Cleo Morey did not help either. Every few minutes his thoughts returned to her text of this morning.
    He was checking the latest updates on Reggie D’Eath when he felt a thump on his back.
    ‘Yo, old timer!’
    He looked up. Branson, who had popped out of the room a short while ago, and had returned with a massive carton of doughnuts from the supermarket across the road. He doled out one to each of the team members.
    Grace took his and stepped away from the desk, deciding he needed to stretch his legs. Branson joined him as he walked across the room and out into the hallway. ‘You OK, old man? You look like shit.’
    Grace took a bite, licking the sugar off his lips. ‘Thanks.’
    Lowering his voice Branson said, ‘So, a little birdie told me that you and Cleo Morey were cosying up to each other in Latin in the Lanes last night.’
    Grace stared at him in surprise. ‘Oh yes?’
    ‘She’s the one yanking your chain?’
    ‘God, this is a small town!’
    ‘It’s a small planet, man!’
    ‘How did you know who it was?’
    The DS tapped the side of his face with his finger. ‘Something you taught me – one of the first rules of being a good detective – build up your network of informants.’

    Grace shook his head, half amused, half annoyed. ‘That was before the regulations changed. Sterile corridors . All that crap.’
    ‘Ever see that movie Police ? Gerard Depardieu was a cop who leaned on his informants to get a drugs bust. Great movie.’
    ‘I didn’t see it.’
    ‘It’s well good. He reminded me of you. Bigger nose, though.’
    ‘I look like Gerard Depardieu?’
    Branson gave him a pat. ‘Na, you’re more like Bruce Willis.’
    ‘That’s better.’
    ‘You sort of look like Bruce Willis’s less fortunate brother. Or maybe his father.’
    ‘You really know how to make a man feel good about himself. You look like—’
    ‘Like who? Will Smith?’
    ‘In your fucking dreams.’
    ‘So tell me more about you and Ms Morey?’
    ‘Nothing to tell. We had dinner.’
    ‘Business, of course?’
    ‘Totally.’
    ‘Even in the back of your cab?’ Branson pressed.
    ‘Jesus! Is every fucking taxi driver in Brighton and Hove informing for you?’
    ‘Nah, just a couple. I got lucky. Anyhow, they’re not informants. They just keep their eyes open for me.’
    Grace didn’t know whether to be proud of his protégé for becoming such a proficient detective, or angry at him.
    Interrupting his thoughts, Branson asked, ‘So did she like your new gear?’
    ‘She said I needed a new dresser and that you were total crap.’
    Branson looked so hurt, Grace felt sorry for him. ‘Don’t worry – actually she didn’t comment.’
    ‘Shit, that’s even worse!’
    ‘We have two homicides and a missing woman; can we change the subject?’
    ‘Don’t change the subject! Cleo Morey! She’s well gorgeous. Like, if I wasn’t happily married, know what I mean? Except like – how do you stop thinking about what she does, man?’

    ‘She didn’t bring any of her cadavers with her to the restaurant, so it was easy.’
    Branson shook his head, suppressing a grin. ‘So, come on. Chapter and verse. Don’t go all coy on me – tell me?’
    ‘I don’t have anything to be coy about. She has a boyfriend, OK? Actually, a fiancé. She somehow neglected to mention him.’
    ‘You’re shitting me.’
    Grace pulled out his mobile phone and showed Branson the text he had received this morning.
    Can’t speak to u at moment. My fiancé just turned up. Will call later. CXXX
    After some moments Branson declared, ‘He’s history.’
    ‘That was midday. She still hasn’t called.’
    ‘Three kisses – trust me, he’s toast.’
    Grace crammed the rest of the doughnut into his mouth.

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