Imposition (DI Gardener 5)

“Can I help you?” she asked, standing about two feet away with her hands on her hips.

“I’m looking for Manny Walters,” replied Robbie. “Is this the right place?”

“Manfred? Does he know you?”

“He will when I find him.”

Mary folded her arms and stood with her legs slightly apart. “What does that mean?”

Robbie smiled. “Can you tell me where he is?”

“He’s away at the moment.”

“How convenient,” muttered Robbie. “Any idea where?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know?”

He’d grown tired of trying to find the little warthog. His absence was really beginning to irritate Robbie, to the point of distraction. He figured his best course of action was to take charge of the situation: it was the only way if you wanted results. “I think you do, Mary.”

If her expression was anything to go by, she had soiled her pants with that sentence.

“How do you know my name?”

“I know quite a lot about you... Mary.”

“I don’t think I like your tone.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

Her hands went back to her hips. “What did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t.”

“Would you like to tell me what business you have with Manfred?”

“Manfred, is it?” Robbie stood up and approached Mary. To give her some credit, she didn’t back away, which only served to make life easier for him. “I’m surprised at you, Mary.”

She hesitated before answering. Her confidence was leaving her. “Surprised? What do you mean?”

“You look like a nice lady to me. You’re clean, well dressed. You speak pleasantly. Why the hell are you mixed up with a scabby little shit like him?”

Another sentence that had knocked the wind out of her. She took a step back, glancing behind her. She turned back to Robbie, smiling. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I have to be somewhere.”

“Oh, yes, silly me. Your mother... in the care home.”

Mary was so horrified, Robbie almost laughed. Instead, he leaned forward. “Don’t you go worrying about your mother, Mary. She’s in the best place.”

Bravado had the better of her because she stepped forward. “Who are you?”

Robbie didn’t answer the question.

Chapter Thirty-five

The waiting room was like most: large and clinical, with a receptionist fielding more calls than a call centre. Not to mention the fact that it was half full of ill people; two were coughing and sneezing, two were extremely pale. The remaining two were a mother and her daughter.

“What are you hoping for with Dr Travers?” Gardener glanced at his partner. They were sitting in the farthest corner of the room, nearest the doctor’s door, well away from anyone with anything infectious.

“I’m not sure, Sean. I’ll settle for whatever he can tell us. This has to be one of the strangest cases we’ve worked. Twenty-four hours ago everyone we wanted to speak to had disappeared.”