Page 31 of Dying Breath
‘Put the phone down, sir.’
He turned around to see who had just said that. One of the officers walked towards him, holding his hand out for his mobile.
‘Don’t tell me to put the phone down.’
‘Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you are or who you’re phoning.’
‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Crowe – I’ve not long left the police station. Here’s my ID.’ His hand went for his pocket and the other officer suddenly jumped to life, pulling out his handcuffs and rushing towards him.
‘I’m sorry, but until we know what’s going on and who you are I’m going to cuff you and ask you to sit in the van. It’s just a precaution; we don’t know if you’re responsible.’
He heard Lucy’s voicemail kick in. ‘Lucy, I need you to come to my house now, it’s an emergency.’
He never got to finish the call as the copper standing in front of him snatched the phone off him and the other one gripped his arm, snapping a cuff over one of his wrists. Anger radiated from Tom in waves as he tried to yank his arm away.
‘What the fuck are you two morons doing?’
Both of them grabbed him now, roughly pulling both arms behind his back to get the other cuff secured.
‘You two are going to regret this. Let me go this instant.’
‘As soon as the DCI gets here and we get it all straightened out we will.’
Tom growled, ‘I am the fucking DCI! Let me go.’
‘Just get in the van and we’ll have it all sorted out in a few minutes.’
The pair of them half walked, half pushed him towards the back of the police van. Shocked, Tom let them put him in the cage and watched as they slammed the doors shut. He’d never been so insulted in his entire life and the indignity and anger were making his heart beat far too hard.
* * *
Lucy, Mattie and Browning were crammed into a corner of the busy Italian restaurant at the last vacant table. They had ordered a combination of pasta, pizza and garlic bread to share, along with a bottle of white wine. Lucy’s phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out to see she had a voicemail. It was too noisy in the restaurant so she stood up, excusing herself, and went outside. She heard Tom’s panicked voice and immediately knew that something was wrong. She rushed back in to where the best al forno she’d ever tasted was waiting for her and looked longingly at it, knowing it would never be finished.
‘I need to go – that was a message from the boss asking me to go to his house. He said it was an emergency.’
Just then Mattie and Browning’s phones rang in unison, both from unknown numbers, which meant it was more than likely work. Browning signalled to the waitress for the bill. Pulling some money out of his wallet, he passed her fifty pounds. All three of them left, jumping into Browning’s estate car, which was bigger than Lucy’s but easier to park than Mattie’s truck. The other customers in the restaurant had watched amazed as they’d rushed out, leaving all their food and full wine glasses on the table.
Browning, who knew where Tom lived because he’d picked him up on numerous occasions, drove as fast as he could to get there. It was Lucy who broke the silence.
‘What do you think is wrong?’
‘Maybe he’s snapped and killed his wife for feeding him all that vegan crap.’
Lucy gasped. ‘Mattie, I can’t believe you’ve just said that.’
‘Why? We’ve been called out to a murder scene and he’s not dead because he phoned you.’
Browning shook his head. ‘Oh Christ, I hope not. He’s a decent bloke.’
He turned into Tom’s street, which was illuminated at the last house by the flashing red-and-blue lights from the police van. An ambulance was parked behind it.
‘At least it’s not Tom’s house; his is the one in the middle.’
Browning drove towards the end house and they all jumped out. The two officers walked towards Lucy, who flashed them her warrant card.
‘Where’s the DCI? He rang me himself to tell me to come here.’
A loud thudding emanated from inside the van and both of the officers turned even paler than they already were.
