Free The Devil's Interval by J. J. Salkeld Page B

give you the tour, and I’ll serve up in ten minutes. How’s that? Take a drink with you.’
     
    Copeland had the sense that Henry’s dad was watching while he chose his drink, but it made no difference. He never had an alcoholic drink, not even a small one, when he was driving.
    ‘This place is bloody massive’ he said, as they were climbing the wide staircase.
    ‘Massively draughty, you mean.’
    ‘How many bedrooms are there?’
    ‘Well, er…’
    ‘You don’t know, do you?’
    ‘No, it’s not that. It just depends on what you call a bedroom.’
    Copeland laughed. ‘It’s not hard, Henry. It’s a room with a bed in it.’
    ‘I know, it’s just that this house has another floor, with some extra rooms.’
    ‘Servant’s quarters?’ He laughed again. ‘You’ve got servant’s quarters, haven’t you? You’re just too ashamed to say so. You wait ’til I tell them at work, mate.’
    ‘They’re just empty rooms now, Rex.’
    ‘How the other half lives, eh?’
    ‘Lived, you mean.’
     
    Henry gave the whistle-stop tour, and was glad that his dad wasn’t leading it. They’d have been there all bloody night if he was.
    ‘You don’t seem to be doing so badly for yourself’ said Copeland, as they headed back towards the kitchen. ‘I just can’t understand why you became a cop, Henry, unless it was to protect all this.’
    ‘Maybe I actually wanted to help people.’
    Copeland laughed again. ‘And how’s that going? Especially with Pepper in charge. If she had her way even our teenage shoplifters would be breaking rocks for a year or two.’
    ‘She’s alright. She cares about us, anyway.’
    ‘She’s quite the bloody lioness, that’s true. Talking of which, what’s on the menu? Nothing endangered, I hope.’
    ‘Pheasant.’
    ‘I should have bloody guessed.’
     
    But the meal turned out to be more fun than Copeland expected. For a start, it transpired that Henry Snr. knew a good deal about the West Indies than Rex did, having spent six months there after he qualified as a doctor, which was five months longer than Copeland himself had ever managed. And when Copeland said that these days he preferred Ibiza for his own holidays in the sun Henry Snr. seemed mildly disappointed. He’d never been there, he said. Eventually, over spotted dick and home made custard, the talk turned to cars.
    ‘Henry tells me that you’re keen on cars, Rex.’
    ‘I should grow up, right?’
    ‘Not at all. You have a BMW?’
    ‘Yeah. It’s all right, but the best thing about it is the stereo. It’s immense.’
    ‘Loud, is it?’
    ‘Yeah, but clear too. Where I come from your car is your own space, and it’s the only place where you can listen to your music when you want, without waking the neighbours. And round my way there are plenty of neighbours that you don’t ever want to wake, believe me.’
    ‘I can imagine. It’s not the same thing at all, but I’ve got an old car, an MGB. I’ve had it for getting on for forty years.’
    ‘It must bring back memories.’
    ‘It does, every time I get behind the wheel. That takes a bit longer than it used to, mind, thanks to my dodgy knee.’
    ‘I was going to ask you something about the car, dad’ said Henry, glancing across the table at Rex.
    ‘Oh, yes?’
    ‘I wondered if I could borrow it, just for a few days.’
    ‘Of course, any time. But I must say I’m a bit surprised. You usually complain about how noisy, old and uncomfortable it is.’
    ‘I wasn’t intending to drive it, dad. I wanted to use it as bait, really.’
    ‘Oh, I see. You’re after some car thieves with a taste for the classics, are you?’
    ‘If you like, aye. They nick old cars anyway, and sell the bits to enthusiasts like you.’
    ‘So you’ll watch my car, twenty four hours a day, and arrest the thieves when they turn up? Is that the plan?’
    ‘Not quite. We’ll fit a homing device, and as soon as they move the car we’ll follow them, and then arrest them.’
    ‘But