as we speak.”
“No she isn’t.” Bernadette said, “How about Harris?”
“That I don’t know.”
“Camilla……” Bernadette’s voice became harsher.
“I don’t know.” Camilla said very slowly. “We’re not looking for him. We don’t need to look for him.” Which was, of course, true. Eddie Symes has to find both men. Or monk would simply take two at random. Then she nodded, “You want us to look the other way as he slips quietly out of town.”
“Two men are already dead.” Bernadette said, “There’s no need for any more.”
“Unlike you, Victor Monk isn’t under any obligation to love his enemies, forgive their trespasses or even show mercy for their wicked ways. He lost two men. Therefore Eddie Symes must lose two men. The two men who committed the murders, Bernadette. A pair of killers.”
“We know who did the killings.” Bernadette said, “And it wasn’t Sanford or Harris.”
“We know no such thing.”
“No, you can prove no such thing, but you know. You know full well those men are innocent.”
“Don’t try and tell me what I know. Also, if I wanted to describe those two men the word innocent wouldn’t be one I’d use so freely. You do know Harry Sanford probably killed his own father by pushing him down the stairs? His friend, Charlie Harris probably helped cover that up. Have you come for any other reasons, because I am very busy at the moment.” She continued and relax on the edge of the desk and look as unbusy as anyone could without actually laying down.
“I want this to stop.” Bernadette said.
“It will stop.” Camilla Ruthven said, “As soon as we deal with these two men it will all stop.”
Chapter Three
Harry Sanford complained all the way to Dransfield.
The distance between the two towns wasn’t great, a matter of some fifteen klix or so but Harry made it his business to complain. He wasn’t happy in the back on the van. Why was he wearing cuffs?
“I’m not a prisoner, you know. Am I? Bloody hell, I’m helping you. I said I would help you.” He waved his cuffed hands in the air, “What do I need these things for when I’m helping you?” He smiled. It was a big toothy smile that just didn’t look real. “We’re on the same side. Right? I’m not a prisoner. I’m not.”
His whining was starting to get on Hazel’s nerves. She didn’t really enjoy being in the back of the transit either. She and Harry were travelling with three constables, a sergeant and a driver. She didn’t know any of the other officers very well and would much preferred to follow in her car,
“Harry, if I had my way you’d be charged with murder by now.”
“I didn’t do anything. You know that.”
“I don’t bloody well know anything of the sort, Harry.” Hazel stopped talking. Took a breath and some time to calm down. “Accessory to murder.” She said, “If it was up to me that is what we would charge you with and none of this would be happening right now.”
“But I didn’t do anything.” He continued to wave his manacles at her. The other police officers kept quiet and minded their own business. This was a pleasant run in the country so far. A trip out. None of them wanted to spoil it. “I told you, that was Tony Symes.”
“No.” Hazel said, “You didn’t tell me.” She took out her notebook very slowly and wrote down his words. “You said you wasn’t going to tell me anything.”
“I told that Scottish bird.”
“Ms Russo.” Hazel said. Michelle had spent a while with Harry getting him to agree to testify against the Symes brothers. Hazel still considered that a big joke. She didn’t think he knew anything worth hearing. But he might put Tony Symes behind bars for a while.
“Yeah, The Scottish bird like I said. She had a very unusual name. Russo isn’t Scottish is it?”
“Stop trying to sound clever, Harry. It doesn’t suit you. I’m not your friend.”
“No, I know you’re not. Bloody pain in the arse you are.” He lowered his voice at the end. “Stupid bitch.”
“Play nice, laddie.” Said the sergeant, who also had a Scottish accent.
“Yeah, and I suppose your name’s bleeding Pavarotti.” Harry said, just loud enough to be heard.
“No, laddie, it’s Nowak.” The sergeant said, “My grandad was a Polish immigrant. He bloody loved it in Glasgow.”
“Should have bloody stayed there then, shouldn’t he.”
“He did, laddie.” Sergeant Nowak said quietly.
Hazel sighed, “Harry, this may be difficult for you to believe, God knows I’m having trouble with the concept myself, but we here, all of us, have been told we have to protect you. It’s not the best idea to annoy us. OK?” Outside the van she could see the town looming up.
Harry Sanford gave a more expressive shrug than he should, “Yeah, all right.”
“We not going through town?” Hazel said as the van driver took the second exit rather than the first on the roundabout.
“No, we have to go straight to the safe house. The inspector is going there ahead of us.”
Hazel didn’t know exactly who the inspector was. She wasn’t familiar with the Dransfield police and no one had bothered to enlighten her. Apparently these things were on a need to know basis . It was also clear that, as a detective sergeant, she didn’t have any need to know right at this moment.
“Safe house?” Sanford said, he sounded a bit nervous.
“Don’t read too much into that, Harry.” Hazel said, more relaxed about it, “It’s a fancy name for a farmhouse that we rented.” She did know a bit about the safe house, or farm house, as she insisted she did have a pressing need for details concerning security. Even if she did feel this whole exercise was a waste of time. “It’s usually used as a holiday cottage.” She looked out of the window. Dransfield was close enough to Caneston to share its miserable climate. It was often difficult for Hazel to understand why so many people, Americans and mainland Europeans, would want to holiday in an area where it did little else but rain. There were the museums and historic monuments. But when she went on holiday she wanted to get some sun. Also to be as far away from this dreary place as possible. “So it’ll be pleasant at least.” She had no idea what it would be like. Except that it wouldn’t be a working farm.
They skirted the town quickly and soon arrived at the farm house, or safe house, which was a smallish, very rural looking building surrounded by about half a dozen even more rural looking buildings. It was all very picturesque but the out buildings looked a bit too close to the main
