Free Facing Justice by Nick Oldham

completely refitted. Flynn recalled that was an insurance job after a leak had caused a lot of damage when Faye had been away.
    He undressed, showered and shaved in the en suite shower room off the main bedroom. He sat on the edge of the unmade bed after, drying himself off, when a surge of tiredness pulsed through him. He lay back and closed his eyes, thinking he would rest for a few minutes.
    Half an hour later he jumped awake, cursing. He dressed quickly, using the underwear he had brought along in the flight bag, keeping on the jeans and shirt he’d worn the day before. Then he called Cathy on her mobile. It went directly to answerphone, frustratingly, as did the landline number she had given him.
    He stood by the kitchen window overlooking the compact, overgrown back garden, a mug of tea in his hand. His mouth crimped in thought. He looked down at his mobile phone, weighing it all up, then decided to make another call, just on the off chance. He tabbed through the contacts menu, found the name he was after, pressed the green dial button with his thumb and put the phone to his ear.
    â€˜Can I help you?’
    â€˜I take it you don’t introduce yourself and your department for the sake of secrecy?’ Flynn said.
    â€˜As I said, can I help you?’
    â€˜Jerry, my old cocker, how the hell’ve you been, matey?’
    For a moment it was as if the line had gone dead. Then, ‘What the hell do you want?’
    â€˜You sound cautious, maybe not even pleased to hear from me,’ Flynn chuckled.
    â€˜Last time I spoke to you, I ended up telling you things I shouldn’t have. Got me in the shit with my boss,’ DC Jerry Tope whined.
    â€˜Ahh, Henry Christie? How is the twat?’
    There was another pause. ‘What do you want, Steve?’
    â€˜First of all, for you not to worry. What I need to know won’t compromise you this time.’ Flynn smiled to himself. ‘Unless of course you don’t tell me, in which case I’ll have to make a very delicate phone call . . . if you get my drift? How is the lovely Marina, by the way?’
    â€˜Flynn, you’re the twat.’
    Flynn cackled wickedly. He had known Jerry Tope for a very long time and they had been good friends when Flynn had been a cop in Lancashire Constabulary. So good that Flynn had done Tope a great favour once, lying to save Tope’s marriage. Ever since, Tope had been in Flynn’s debt. Flynn had never expected to become a debt collector but he had tapped into Tope’s role as an intelligence analyst the previous year when he was after some details of a couple of very bad men who were out to get him. Their friendship had not survived Flynn’s ignominious departure from the cops, but Flynn had found it useful to have someone on the inside who could search databases.
    â€˜It’s different this time,’ Flynn said.
    â€˜I seriously doubt it.’
    â€˜Honest – Cathy James? You remember her. Cathy Turnbull as was?’
    â€˜Yeah, we were all at training school together. Everybody wanted to get into her panties. Rumour had it that someone did . . .’
    â€˜Yeah, lucky sod, whoever it was.’
    â€˜You did, didn’t you!’ Tope exclaimed. ‘Jeez, you did. Now it all fits into place. Christ, if I’d known that,’ he said wistfully.
    â€˜I didn’t, actually,’ Flynn lied. ‘But, yeah, Cathy James, née Turnbull.’
    â€˜Mm, haven’t come across her for years. Do know she’s working a rural beat up in Northern Division. She married a jack from Lancaster. Tom James, good lad.’
    â€˜Know much about him?’
    â€˜No, just of him. Good thief-taker by all accounts. Used to be a traffic cop, of all things, but seems to have found his niche. I think Henry’s used him a few times on murders. And he recently got a chief cons commendation for busting a prostitution racket. Probably go far . . .