Free Liar Liar: DI Helen Grace 4 (A DI Helen Grace Thriller) by M. J. Arlidge

bringing crooks in than the traditional tap on the shoulder. But Helen didn’t agree. Often you gave the game away before you’d even begun. The people in these sorts of places drink with their eyes and ears open. They are likely to spot a group of coppers gathering in the street. Moreover, such a clumsy approach was, in Helen’s view,
more
likely to lead to trouble, the disturbed criminals reacting violently to such a sudden and heavy-handed intrusion.
    As they stood on the threshold, Helen looked to Charlie once more – a silent nod returned – then she pushed the door firmly and went inside. The pub was filling up now – scallywags drinking a ‘well-earned’ pint at the end of another day of ducking and diving – and was noisy and lively as a result. As soon as the two smartly dressed women stepped into the pub, however, the atmosphere changed. Heads turned, voices were lowered – everyone present wondering who had done something wrong.
    Gary Spence hadn’t looked to see who these intruders were, but Helen could tell by his body language that he had tensed up. Was he expecting them?
    ‘Gary Spence?’
    There was long pause – nobody was talking now – before Gary slowly put down his pint and turned to face her.
    ‘Have we met, darling?’
    ‘I’m DI Grace, this is DC Brooks. We’d like a word with you, please.’
    Gary stared at her, saying nothing. He took a slow, deliberate sip of his pint, then said:
    ‘Fire away.’
    ‘Not here. We’ve got a car outside.’
    ‘Serious, is it?’
    ‘I’d prefer to do this at the station, so when you’re ready.’
    Gary looked at her once more. A thin smile spread across his mouth.
    ‘Have it your way.’
    At which he flung his pint in Helen’s face and bolted for the back of the pub. Helen was too startled to react and Charlie a nanosecond too slow. He brushed past her outstretched hand and sprinted for the saloon door. Immediately he came face to face with Sanderson who had sprung from her position.
    ‘Police. You are –’
    But she didn’t get any further. Spence launched himself at her, his beefy shoulder connecting with her head on, sending them both reeling backwards through the door and into the dingy passage outside. Sanderson tried to get up first but felt an elbow slam into her stomach, knocking the wind from her. She was left clutching at thin air as the escaping Spence raced away towards the emergency exit nearby.
    Before Sanderson could rise, Helen Grace sped through, hurdling her grounded officer and setting off after the fleeing crook. Charlie paused momentarily to check Sanderson was ok, before following suit. Moments later they were both in the freezing courtyard outside. Spence was nowhere to be seen but the fixed gaze of acouple of startled smokers now revealed his position. He was climbing the fire escape – Helen had expected him to head out and away, but actually he was heading
up
.
    Helen turned to Charlie.
    ‘Tell the others he’s making for the roof.’
    As Charlie radioed this in, Helen ran up the fire escape, taking the steps two at a time. Spence had a head start on her, but carried considerably more weight than Helen and she was hopeful of hunting him down.
    One flight, two, three, then finally Helen crested the fire escape, spilling out on to the gravel roof. Immediately she spotted Spence sprinting towards the far edge. She gave chase but he was thirty feet ahead and as he came to the edge of the roof, leapt from it, straining every sinew to get across the large gap that separated the pub from its nearest neighbour. He made the other side, but only just, his right foot sliding off the slippery ledge, threatening to unbalance him, before he righted himself and raced on.
    Despite the forty-foot fall that awaited her if she misjudged the jump, Helen didn’t hesitate. The buildings round here were detached, flat-roofed commercial properties. If Spence was quick and lucky he could escape their net altogether via the rooftops.