Free Foul Justice by MA Comley Page B

make the guy feel uneasy from the start.
    “I’m DI Simpkins, and this is my partner DS Foster. Show the nice man your ID, will you? Oh no, don’t bother. He’s already seen yours once, hasn’t he?”
    Katy had told Lorne outside that he was the guy who’d blatantly refused to give her any of the details she had asked for the previous day, and Lorne was now gunning for him.
    The man’s face dropped along with his outstretched arm, and he had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. “I…‌umm…”
    Lorne turned her head sideways and held her ear out to the man. “Come on, Mr.…‌? I’m dying to hear why you tried to obstruct a case yesterday. For your information, judges don’t take kindly to that kind of thing in a court of law.”
    The man’s jaw flew open, and his demeanour was one of discomfort under her glare. “It’s Philip Underhill. Umm…‌about yesterday. Er…‌I can explain.”
    “I’m waiting,” she said, her eyebrows disappearing under her fringe.
    “I was about to go out when…‌your partner arrived. I had an urgent appointment that I couldn’t be late for. An important client. You know how it is.”
    “Actually, I don’t. My partner was trying to ascertain important information that could make or break our case. In all my years on the force, I’ve never had to obtain a warrant to gain a client’s details from a security firm before. Why the heck should your firm be any different? Answer me that, Mr. Underhill.”
    The six-foot-two, mousey-haired guy stuttered as he apologized. “I—I’m sorry…‌You’re right, Inspector.” Turning to Katy, he smiled, though it was more like a grimace. “It was rude and unforgivable of me.”
    “At least we’re agreed on one thing. Now, if you have the time, I’d like to see the files you have for the Dobbses and the Kellys.”
    He moved towards the black filing cabinet nearest his desk, and after taking a key from his waistcoat pocket, unlocked it.
    “Let me see. Ahh, here’s one.” He took a manila folder out of the top drawer and placed it on his desk.
    Lorne wandered over and picked up the file and began to read through it. Katy joined her and took the other file from Underhill’s hand before he had a chance to place it on his clutter-free desk.
    “What sort of operation do you run here?” Lorne asked, looking up from the file and glancing round the office. “I’ve never seen a security firm with such plush office space before, and I didn’t see any kind of warehouse attached.”
    Yes, the building was on an industrial estate, but she had expected some kind of storage unit or factory-type setup. She had her doubts about whether he’d offer her the truth.
    “We decided to split the locations. Our warehouse is on the other side of London.”
    Lorne frowned. “Why? That doesn’t seem a very practical situation.”
    With an air of cockiness he responded, “It suits us. Our systems are second to none. Highly rel—” His cheeks reddened when he realized his mistake.
    “Go on. I think you were about to assure us how highly reliable your systems are and your firm is, am I right?”
    Underhill fidgeted on the spot for a few seconds before he propped his backside on the desk, tucking his hands between his thighs. “All right. I confess, maybe our systems have been a little dodgy lately, but…”
    Sensing he was about to come out with some form of bullshit or other, Lorne raised her hand to stop him. “A little dodgy. No shit, Sherlock. And because of your systems conveniently failing like that, we’ve now got three dead kids lying in our mortuary fridges.”
    If Lorne didn’t know any better, she would’ve said that snippet of information was news to him as the colour drained from his scrawny face.
    “You weren’t aware of that fact, Mr. Underhill?” she queried.
    He sighed heavily. “No, I wasn’t aware of that, Inspector. I’m deeply sorry.”
    She gave a brief nod. “I’ll be sure to pass on your condolences