Free Joint Enterprise (The Romney and Marsh Files Book 3) by Oliver Tidy

drive while he wedged himself, awkwardly thought Marsh, against the passenger door so that he was half turned towards her. She assumed he had adopted this position because he wanted to talk to her, but during the short drive up to the castle he was largely silent and just stared out of the rain spattered windscreen , apparently miles away.
    A more visible security presence was in evidence at the castle. The effect obviously being hoped for was that Samson Security was to be seen stepping up its game in the wake of recent events. Romney joked to Marsh without humour that when he had mentioned the shutting of stable doors the previous evening to Wilkie he must have taken him more seriously than he meant.
    At the entrance to the hastily cordoned grassed car park created for the film shoot, a man wearing the day-glow orange vest of Samson Security stood clutching a clipboard and sheltering under an umbrella. The day before, the space had been wide open with people free to come and go as they pleased. He waved them to a stop and demanded to see identification and authorisation for their visit. They flashed their warrant cards to which the man responded that because their names weren’t on his list, he would have to radio through for permission to let them in. Romney quickly led him to understand that their warrant cards served as both and that he should hurry up and raise his bloody barrier – what looked to Marsh like two broom handles lashed together with duct-tape – before he got himself arrested for obstruction. This was twenty-first century Britain not some feudal Sicilian enclave where the law meant nothing. The man complained defensively that he was only doing what he had been told to do by his boss. Romney suggested, not politely, that he should perhaps take a few moments for a reality check and to brush up on English law, if he were thinking of pursuing a career in security.
    Marsh sighed inwardly. Here we go again, she thought. They weren’t even across the boundary line and Romney was rubbing the help up the wrong way.
    They picked their way across the spongy turf, through an opening in the castle wall and on to Samson Security’s site office.
    Romney told her he had a couple of questions for the man in charge. He had said this with a malevolent grin twisting his features.
    Marsh strongly suspected Romney’s motives. She believed that as much as finding answers to any genuine questions that may further their enquiries the DI was just as interested in seeing how Wilkie was bearing up after his company’s apparent failings of the previous day.
    Such behaviour would fit with Romney’s unpleasant side that she’d learnt something of first hand when he had deliberately trodden dog excrement into the deep, white and expensive pile of a murder suspect’s carpet during a previous investigation. As they walked she mentally braced herself for more unnecessary and unhelpful spitefulness.
    Romney didn’t knock. They walked in through the open door of the temporary cabin office to find Wilkie alone and studying paperwork. He looked up at their entrance, apparently expecting them and anything but happy to see them. The man on the barrier must have let him know they were coming. Romney wiped his muddy shoes exaggeratedly on the mat and then shook the water off his umbrella all over the floor before commencing to rattle Wilkie’s cage.
    Standing on no ceremony , he said, ‘As I was passing, I thought I’d see if there was any news on the missing film?’
    Wilkie remained seated, his unsettling gaze fixed on Romney. Having once been the law , he was never going to be intimidated or fooled by it. ‘Didn’t you say last night that it’s now a police matter? Why would I involve Samson Security in that? I’ve got better things to do with the company’s time and resources.’
    Romney took a moment to let his gaze wander around the stuffy, cramped and grubby little space. ‘Of course you have, Brian.’ Romney’s tone was