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Sham

Page 19

by Roger Silverwood


  ‘Put her through, please.’

  ‘Ah, Inspector,’ she began bursting with news. ‘I am so pleased I caught you. I am pleased, nay overjoyed to tell you that my Bentley has been repaired by dear Mr Lestrange and that it runs like a bird. It has set me back a thousand pounds, which I have had to borrow from the bank, but that can’t be helped.’

  ‘I am so glad, Mrs Buller-Price.’

  ‘So I will not be wanting that new car back; as I said, I have done nothing to deserve it, so if you do come across it, please dispose of it and do what you will with the money. Give it to charity.’

  ‘Are you certain of this?’

  ‘Positive. Certain. Definite.’

  ‘Well, I’ll do that and thank you, Mrs Buller-Price.’

  ‘No, thank you, Inspector. And you haven’t been to see me for ages, Inspector.’

  ‘I’ll try and call in next time I’m passing. By the way, there’s a reward coming your way, you know.’

  ‘Really? What for?’

  ‘Helping us to catch a notorious gang of criminals.’

  ‘Oh, really. But I haven’t —’

  ‘And do you know how much it is for?’

  ‘No idea, Inspector.’

  ‘It’s exactly a thousand pounds.’

  ‘Oh Inspector, thank you very much.’ She giggled and then said, ‘Goodbye.’

  He replaced the phone and smiled. Another satisfied customer.

  There was a knock at the door.

  ‘Come in.’

  It was Ahmed. ‘You wanted me, sir?’

  ‘Yes, Ahmed,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘Come in. Sit down.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Ahmed said, licking his lips. Angel thought he looked smart, handsome and had the makings of a fine policeman.

  ‘I understand that tomorrow is your birthday. You’ll be eighteen.’

  Ahmed smiled.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Well,’ he said grandly. ‘I just wondered what you intended to do with your life.’ Ahmed frowned and said, ‘What do you mean, sir?’

  ‘I wondered whether you intended applying to be in the force proper — ‘

  Suddenly, unexpectedly, out in the corridor there was a loud scream. Sounded like a woman or a girl. It was a very loud scream. Then another.

  They stared at the door.

  Ahmed licked his lips. He jumped up.

  ‘Sir!’ he said, and looked anxiously at Angel.

  The inspector pursed his lips and then slowly shook his head. It would be WPC Leisha Baverstock again. He leaned across the desk and reached out for the little pink packet with the word ‘Ahmed’, written on it.

  ‘Here, lad. There’s something for you. It will prove very useful, help you in your career here at the station, too. Open it before you go out there.’

  Ahmed blinked, looked at Angel, took the little packet and began to smile.

  ‘Thank you very much, sir.’

  He tore gently at the paper and peered curiously at the wood and wire that he eventually revealed.

  Angel said, ‘It’s a mouse-trap. You put a bit of cheese on there.’

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