Free Upon a Dark Night by Peter Lovesey

witness was more dependable.
    ‘It seems to me,’ Percy summed up, ‘that you’ve got to look for an owner in some way connected with fish. An angler. Plenty of them in this part of the world.’
    ‘Or somebody called Fish?’ said Ada.
    ‘Pike,’ said Rose resignedly. ‘Or Whiting.’
    ‘Equally, this might be a chappie in the fish and chip business,’ Percy suggested. ‘It’s got all kinds of connotations when you begin to think about it. There are tropical fish-keepers.’
    ‘Don’t go on, Perce,’ said Ada. ‘We’ve got the point. It’s going to be easier to look for the car than work out who owns it.’
    ‘I’ll see if I can discover anything through the trade,’ Percy offered. ‘Ask around. That’s the way to find things out.’
    They rode back to the city centre in a minibus. Before climbing aboard, Ada got the usual dubious look from the driver. She needed the width of two seats, but nothing was said and she paid the same fare as Rose.
    ‘He’s a poppet,’ said Ada, meaning Percy.
    ‘Yes.’ Rose was still weighing the morning’s developments.
    ‘He’ll get weaving now. He’s got all sorts of contacts.’
    She responded flatly, ‘Good.’
    They got off at Cleveland Place and crossed the bridge to return to the hostel, for lunch, as Ada made clear.
    Neither of them paid much attention to the line of cars outside Harmer House. Parked cars fitted naturally into the scenery in Bathwick Street. Only a space in the line might have merited some interest, for in this part of the city one vehicle always replaced another in a very short time.
    Ada continued to talk optimistically of Percy’s networking skills, while Rose heard without really listening.
    They were passing the building next to the hostel when a car door opened somewhere near. Rose didn’t even glance towards it, so she had a shock when a hand grasped her arm above the elbow. Turning, she looked into the face of a thin, youngish, black-haired man with a forced smile. ‘Hello, love,’ he said without raising his voice. ‘You don’t have to go in there after all. I’ve come to take you home.’
    ‘What?’ she said, startled. She didn’t know him.
    His grip on her arm tightened. ‘The car’s over there. Look lively.’ He was still grinning like a doorstep evangelist. He needed a shave, but his clothes were passably smart.
    ‘Who are you?’
    ‘Come on, love. You know me,’ he answered, tugging on her arm.
    She was forced to take a couple of steps towards him.
    Ada had barely noticed this going on, but now she turned and said, ‘Someone you know, petal?’
    Rose’s fear came out in her voice. ‘I don’t remember.’ She told the man, ‘Let go of my arm, please.’
    Ada asked him, ‘What’s this about? Who are you?’
    He said, ‘Keep out of this. She’s going with me.’
    ‘She isn’t if she doesn’t want to,’ said Ada. ‘Let’s talk about this in a civilised way.’
    Civility was not on this man’s agenda. He tugged Rose towards him, wrapped his left arm around her back and hustled her across the pavement towards the open rear door of a large red Toyota. The engine was running and someone was in the driving seat.
    Rose cried out in pain from the contact of the man’s hand on her injured ribs. He leaned on her, forcing her to bend low so as to ram her into the car, at the same time pressing a knee against her buttocks. She tried to resist by reaching out and bracing her arm against the door-frame, but it was useless. Disabled by her injury, she was incapable of holding on.
    She screamed.
    Her face jammed against the leather of the back seat. She braced her legs and tried unsuccessfully to kick. He had grabbed her below the knees. Only her shins and feet were still outside the car and he was bundling them in like pieces of luggage.
    Then Ada acted.
    Excessive weight is mostly a burden, but on rare occasions it can be turned to advantage. Lacking the strength to pull the man off, Ada charged him with