Free Rough Treatment by John Harvey Page A

several restaurants and had a controlling share in others. His youngest son had incurred his wrath by marrying into a local family, non-Chinese, and opening his own restaurant and takeaway.
    That had been three weeks ago. Since then there had been broken windows and worse. The fire officer seemed in no doubt that when the son’s new premises had flared up it had been arson. A large container of cooking oil had been maneuvered into the cellar and set alight; the result had been charred girders and melted chopsticks. Only because the place had been closed and the residents of the upstairs flat on their way back from a party had there been no fatalities.
    Resnick hoped the young man had had time to obtain sufficient insurance.
    Insurance.
    He screwed paper and crumbs into a ball and bounced them off the rim of the waste bin on to the floor.
    “Patel,” he called from the door.
    “Sir?”
    “Here a minute.”
    There was Naylor, glancing across at him from above his typewriter, adding to the guilt.
    “Patel,” Resnick said, “get yourself down to Jeff Harrison’s nick. Have a word with a young PC, Featherstone. He went out to investigate a burglary, Harold and Maria Roy. In through the back, out the front. Professional job.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “I had a word with the woman; what she told me and what she told Featherstone don’t seem to tie up. Shake the inconsistencies around a little, talk to her. See if you think she’s just confused or if she’s lying.”
    “This will be all right, sir? With Inspector Harrison?”
    “Help ourselves, he said. Well, in as many words. It’s been okayed from on high, so we’re covered. Which brings me to the other thing—find out some more about her insurance. Who’s the policy with? Were they recommended? She suggested they took over the insurance from the house owners, but that may not be accurate. If she wants to show you papers, let her. And perhaps you can encourage her to remember who it was came around and gave them a quotation to get their security updated.”
    “That’s all, sir?”
    With some of the others, Resnick might have pegged it as facetiousness. “For the present,” he said and then, because there was no way of avoiding it, he invited Naylor into his office.
    The two men looked at one another with less than ease, Resnick having a strong sense of Naylor wanting to talk to someone, needing to, but sensed that it wasn’t himself.
    “How’s Debbie?” Resnick asked.
    “Oh,” Naylor shifted his feet awkwardly, “fine. She’s fine. She …”
    “Lot of broken nights.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Strain on both of you.”
    Naylor stood and shuffled his feet; the collar of his shirt was suddenly too tight. One hundred and one places you would rather be than here.
    “You’re getting some help?”
    Naylor’s eyes panicked.
    “There must be somebody … I don’t know, district nurse …”
    “Health visitor. Yes, sir. She comes round every so often, though Debbie says she doesn’t know what for.” Three times out of four, Debbie kept the door locked and pretended there was nobody home, but he wasn’t telling Resnick that.
    “How about the doctor? Any use?”
    “Not a lot, sir. Debbie says …”
    Resnick switched off. What was that old game he’d played at school? Simon says this, Simon says that, whatever it might be, no matter how daft, that was what you did and fast. No questions asked. He glanced up at Naylor, who seemed to have finished.
    “You know, we could arrange some counseling, from this end. If it’s interfering with your work.” Resnick could see from the look in the young DC’s eyes that he’d as well have suggested something bizarre in the way of sexual practices. “If you wanted to talk things through, the pair of you, with some professional—it’s available, okay?”
    “Yes, sir.” Anxious to be away.
    “All right, Kevin.”
    Out of there like the proverbial clockwork rabbit. Resnick shook his head, gave himself a few moments