Free A Certain Malice by Felicity Young Page A

mental calculations. “Fifty-six or sixty-six, it depends.”
    “On what?”
    Bell slapped his hands on his knees and laughed. “On which birth certificate you’re looking at! He told me this scheme of his years ago, and to be honest,” – there it was again – “I thought of dobbing him in over it often enough. He’d a fake certificate you see, saying he was ten years younger than he actually was.”
    Cam could see where this was going. “Had he been claiming an invalid pension?”
    “Yeah, he’d been on one for years. Sore back or some such crap.”
    “So he could go on receiving the invalid pension instead of the aged pension, which pays out a lot less.”
    “Spot on.”
    “You’ve mentioned this Gay woman. Do you know the names of any other friends or associates of your brother?”
    “Never have and never want to.”
    “Any other family members?”
    “No, just him and me.”
    “For the record sir, where were you last Saturday night?”
    Bell did not seem surprised or offended by the question. “That depends,” he smiled, giving Cam the feeling that he was in fact quite keen to divulge his whereabouts.
    Jesus, here we go again.“Depends on what?” Cam asked.
    “On who you ask.”
    “Your niece?”
    Bell drew an hourglass shape in the air with his hands and winked. “You’re a quick one, Sarge, I’ll give you that. OK, I’ll cough up. Tiffany and I went out to dinner, then I went back to her place. I didn’t get home till late Sunday afternoon. My wife thinks I was in Albany. Now I hope I can count on your discretion here.” He tapped the side of his nose. “You really don’t need to write it down in your little book.” He shifted a buttock and reached for his wallet, freezing when he saw the look on Cam’s face. His voice smarted with hurt.“My card, Sergeant, I want to give you my card.” He extracted a crumpled card and held it out. Cam took it as if it was smeared with something foul.
    “I don’t suppose you’re in the market for a house, are you?” Toby Bell said.

10
    The sun stabbed at Cecelia’s eyes as she stepped away from the school’s cool front entrance. She stopped for a moment, thinking that what she saw had to be an illusion caused by the glare. She put down her heavy book basket and rummaged in her bag for her sunglasses. But this was no trick of light. Her car door was clearly open and someone was leaning into it from the driver’s side.
    Some bastard was trying to steal her car!
    She looked around. The school was deserted. Hers was the only car in the car park. There was no one she could call for help.
    Without a second thought she ran down the path and vaulted the small wrought iron fence that bordered the ornamental front garden. She wouldn’t warn him with a shout, she wanted to catch the creep red-handed.
    But the thief must have heard her footsteps. He pulled his head from the car, looked at her and swore. It was then Cecelia realised he was a girl.
    There was a pushbike leaning against the side of the car. The girl sprang on to it and took off. But in her panic to get away she skidded and the bike slid from under her.
    Cecelia watched with a strange mixture of delight and horror as the girl shot several feet across the gravel before coming to a whimpering halt.
    Cecelia wasted no time. “Serves you right,” she said, as she clamped her hand around the girl’s wrist and pulled her to her feet.
    “Get off me.” The girl tried feebly to yank herself free. “Child abuse, child abuse!” she screamed to the deserted car park.
    Cecelia gripped her wrist harder, ignoring the blood dripping from the girl’s elbow on to the ground.
    “There’s no one to hear you; scream all you like. I’ll let go when you’ve told me what you were doing in my car.”
    “That’s none of your fucking business you cock-sucking – ouch!”
    Cecelia took a deep breath to calm herself.“I suppose I’d better just call the police and get this over with.” She moved to