Read Deadly Friends for Free Online

I was four minutes early, but that was how I did business and they’d better get used to it. I turned the handle and marched in.
    Sparky was sprawled in a chair, his feet on another, talking to Nigel who was sitting nearby. The only two others in the room were engrossed in the Sun crossword.
    ‘Good morning,’ I said.
    ‘Morning, sir,’ said the two City HQ detectives, brushing the tabloid to one side.
    ‘Morning, Boss,’ Nigel added. Sparky swung his legs to the floor and nodded.
    ‘So, where’s everybody else?’ I demanded.
    ‘We’re it,’ Nigel told me.
    ‘Four of you?’
    ‘There’s another four on observations, sir,’ one of the City DCs interjected. ‘Well, two on duty and two off.’
    Nigel did the introductions. I knew them by sight but had never worked with either. We shook hands and I gave them the bit about not calling me sir. Formalities over, I asked Nigel to fill me in with the story so far.
    The last known person to see the doctor alive was a junky known as Ged Skinner. There was an entry in the doc’s diary giving Skinner an appointment at six thirty p.m., about two hours before the estimated time of death. He had a drugs-related record nearly as long as the Duchess of York’s last bank statement and DCI Makinson was convinced that he’d done the deed. Motive: possibly theft of a prescription pad. Or maybe just sheer wickedness because the doc wouldn’t prescribe. I had to admit that it sounded likely.
    ‘The trouble is,’ Nigel continued, ‘he’s done a bunk. According to his common law wife he’d arranged a ride in a lorry down to London, straight after his appointment with the doctor. She said he had friends there that he was close to, someone he’d grown up within care, and he tried to see them every Christmas. He’d be gone for about a week, definitely back for the New Year, she reckons, if he hasn’t run away completely. We’ve alerted the Met, but it’s like looking for a needle in a hay stack.’
    ‘Do we know for sure why he was seeing the doctor?’ ‘Yes. He was on methadone. It’s all in the doc’s records.’
    ‘So maybe he went round expecting to collect a week’s supply.’
    ‘That’s what we thought.’
    ‘And the doc wouldn’t play ball?’
    ‘Could be.’
    When someone is on a heroin withdrawal programme they are often prescribed methadone as an alternative, to wean them through the bad times. Some people swear by it, others claim it is more pernicious than the heroin. Many junkies prefer it, as the high is more controllable and the quality is assured. Normal treatment is three doses a day, and the doctors often only issue a prescription for one day at a time. Ged Skinner was going away for a week. Maybe he got stroppy.
    ‘Are these the reports?’ I asked, pointing to a foot-high pile of papers.
    They nodded.
    ‘Great,’ I sighed. ‘So, where does Mr Skinner normally live?’
    ‘In a squat in the Nansens,’ one of the DCs told me.
    The Nansens were a quarter-mile square block ofterraced houses built at the turn of the century to house mill workers and named after the great Norwegian explorer and scientist. If only he could see them now.
    ‘How many others live there?’
    ‘About six adults, plus kids and dogs.’
    I grimaced and nodded. ‘Have you two been on all night?’ I asked the City DCs.
    They had.
    ‘Right, then get yourselves off home, after you’ve told the others not to move if Skinner comes back unless they have some back-up. And to let me know. I wouldn’t mind being there when we lift him. OK?’
    When they’d gone Sparky said: ‘I think they prefer working for you rather than Makinson.’
    ‘Mr Makinson has his ways,’ I replied, ‘and I have mine. Sometimes I think I could learn a few things from him.’
    Nigel started pulling his coat on. ‘Short meeting,’ he said. ‘We can’t do anything until he shows. Do you need me?’
    ‘Yes. Do you have a warrant to search the squat when Skinner shows?’
    ‘Er, no idea.