Free Scarlet Women by Jessie Keane Page B

was the stairs, or being lowered down off the roof with a fucking rope , Tony complained—could you believe people had to live this way?
    ‘Pardon my French, Boss,’ he added politely as they hit the top landing. Then, ‘Oh fuck,’ he blurted as he looked ahead.
    Annie looked ahead. DI Hunter was standing outside a battered-looking door halfway along the grimy landing, his arm raised to knock on it. His head turned in their direction. Distinctly, they saw him mutter something under his breath and then return his attention to the door.
    ‘Wait here, Tone,’ said Annie, and she left Tony by the top of the stairs and strolled off along the landing to where Hunter, the warm updraught riffling through his dark hair, was still tapping at the door. ‘Hello, Detective Inspector,’ she said when she got to the door. She looked at the peeling paint-work. ‘How’s tricks?’
    He looked at her, his face pinched tight with disapproval. He looked away. Knocked again at the door.
    He wouldn’t be half bad looking if only he didn’t scowl so much, she thought.
    A dog was barking in there. A high-pitched yap yap yap. It could drive you mad, a dog like that—pity the neighbours.
    ‘No one in?’ she asked. ‘Apart from Fido?’
    ‘What are you doing here?’
    ‘Same as you,’ said Annie. ‘Trying to find out what the hell’s been going on.’
    He half turned towards her. Gave her the old beady brown eye again. ‘Don’t get smart with me, Mrs Carter. I know what you are, I know about you.’
    ‘Oh?’ Annie looked at him.
    ‘You know, I once worked for DCI Fielding, and do you know what his big ambition was? To nail Max Carter.’
    ‘Really,’ said Annie. ‘Well, he left that too late. Max is dead.’ She glanced at his left hand. He was wearing a gold wedding ring, but Lane had said he was divorced. ‘Hey, how’s your wife, DI Hunter?’ she asked him with deliberate cruelty.
    His lips tightened. ‘In Manchester,’ he said. ‘The last I heard.’
    ‘Trouble on the domestic front?’
    His eyes flared. ‘Just what the hell are you doing here?’
    ‘I told you, same as you. But in the meantime, we’re here outside this damned door. Which needs opening, by the way.’
    ‘Mrs Carter. This is police business, and best left to us.’ And he turned and knocked on the door again.
    ‘That lock don’t look up to much,’ said Annie. There was a pause. The dog barked on, yap, yap, yap. ‘A good kick could probably sort that door out,’ she suggested helpfully.
    ‘That’s breaking and entering, Mrs Carter,’ he said, giving her the look again.
    ‘Well,’ said Annie, ‘I understand your reservations, you being an officer of the law and all that stuff. But if you were to walk along to the end there, busy yourself in some way, my colleague there,’ she nodded to Tony, ‘could have it open in no time. And then we could move this along, because no one is going to answer this damned door. And that dog’s doing my head in.’
    DI Hunter gave her an appraising stare. Looked at Tony, standing there all polite and besuited, big as a barn door with his bald head polished to the colour of oak from the summer sun, the gold crucifixes glittering in his ears. Looking as if he could demolish the building, never mind the door.
    ‘Don’t think I approve of this, because I don’t,’ said Hunter.
    Annie nodded. Hunter walked off. Tony approached.
    ‘Open it, will you, Tone?’ she asked.
    Tony pulled back and gave the door a kick just below the lock. It bounced open and the dog’s volume shot up by a few decibels. A Yorkshire terrier appeared in the doorway, yapping frantically but wagging his little stump of a tail. Tony observed the animal with disfavour.
    ‘God, I hate dogs.’
    ‘You a cat person, Tone?’ asked Annie. She could see DI Hunter coming back now, not hurrying.
    ‘Can’t stand them either. You know if you drop down dead, they’ll eat you? How’s that for loyalty? Shows their true