Free Imperfect Killing by Luke Delaney

but she really was wed to her work.’
    ‘So everyone tells me,’ Sean smiled politely. ‘I’m sorry, but I had to ask. You and Miss Evans seemed so close when you were on
Retail Rescue
together.’
    ‘She was a joy to work with,’ Stokes answered.
    ‘I’m sure,’ Sean agreed, ‘and you made a good team.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Stokes nodded once as if taking a bow. ‘Then I take it you’ve seen the show.’
    ‘I have,’ Sean kept up the smile. ‘I particularly enjoyed the shows from a few months ago.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Stokes bowed again.
    ‘When you seemed especially close to each other,’ he added, the smile fading on Stokes’ face. ‘Before
your
on-screen time seemed to be reduced. The shows weren’t so good after that, I thought.’
    ‘Yes, well,’ Stokes squirmed a little in his chair, ‘I had tired of the show by then – felt it was time to move on, concentrate on writing and producing. A life behind the camera suits me better than one in front of it, I believe.’
    ‘Each to his own,’ Sean remarked.
    ‘Quite,’ Stokes replied, the two men locking eyes for what seemed an age.
    ‘Well, thanks for your time,’ Sean finally said, pushing himself out of the seat, Benton following suit. ‘And thanks for your patience and understanding.’
    ‘You have your questions to ask,’ Stokes answered understandingly. ‘Sue was a special person,’ he repeated. ‘Any updates you can give on the investigation’s progress would be much appreciated by everyone here at the studio.’
    ‘Of course,’ Sean lied. ‘You’ll be the first to know. We’ll see ourselves out.’ He walked casually from the office and into the corridor. Benton went to ask him a question, but Sean silenced him by placing an index finger over his own lips. Only once they were safely inside the lift did Sean speak. ‘What is it?’
    ‘Well?’ Benton asked impatiently. ‘What d’you reckon?’
    ‘I reckon we need some evidence,’ was all Sean said.
    ‘Is that it?’ Benton questioned.
    ‘For now,’ Sean explained. ‘But if you weren’t a criminal who could get your hands on a gun and you didn’t have the knowledge or equipment to reactivate a replica firearm – where would be the perfect place to find a blank-firing gun?’
    ‘I’ve no idea,’ Benton replied, rolling his eyes.
    ‘Then you’d better follow me,’ Sean told him with a grin.
    ‘Where to now?’ Benton pleaded.
    ‘You’ll see soon enough,’ Sean answered. ‘You’ll see.’
    ***
    Only a few minutes later they walked into the cavernous Props Department hidden in the basement of the studios. To their surprise they were able to move deep into the room amongst the tens of thousands of props used for shows of all descriptions. Eventually a man in his sixties with wild grey hair, wearing old-fashioned brown overalls stepped out from behind a rack of costumes and challenged them.
    ‘Can I help you, gentlemen?’ he asked with a smile.
    ‘Police,’ Sean told him.
    ‘Real or actors getting into role?’ he asked in all seriousness.
    ‘Real,’ Sean assured him and pulled out his warrant card. ‘DS Sean Corrigan.’
    Benton also flashed his card. ‘DC Zack Benton.’
    The old man pulled a pair of spectacles from his pocket and perched them on his face, leaning closer to examine their identification. ‘So that’s what they look like now,’ he said. ‘You lot are always changing those damn things. I’ll have to update our police props sub-department now. Never mind.’
    ‘And you are?’ Benton asked.
    ‘Charles Mendham, at your service.’
    ‘Are you in charge here?’ Benton continued.
    ‘If anyone’s in charge, I suppose it’s me.’
    ‘Worked here long?’ Sean asked, keeping it friendly.
    ‘As long as I can remember,’ Mendham answered with a chuckle, ‘and at the old studio before that.’
    ‘Quite a responsibility,’ Sean told him looking around the huge basement, ‘keeping track of all …
this
.’
    ‘Oh I know my way