And Justice There Is None Read Online Free Page B

watchful, they stood round the lorry, and there was no sign of the new family
.
    For a moment she hesitated, remembering her father’s instructions; then a dark face appeared at an upstairs window and the crowd shifted with a rumble of menace
.
    Without another thought for her promise, she pushed her way through to the back of the lorry, scooped up the biggest box she could carry, and marched up the steps. With a defiant glance back at the crowd, she turned and rapped on the door
.
    A S THEY DESCENDED THE STAIRS FROM THE TOP FLOOR OF THE house, Kincaid heard the faint but insistent ringing of a telephone. The sound seemed to be coming from the vicinity of the coat rack, and Gemma swore under her breath as she crossed the room and plunged her hand into the pocket of her jacket, retrieving her phone.
    From the stillness of her face as she listened, Kincaid guessed that they would not be spending a romantic evening celebrating the beginning of a new era in their relationship.
    “What is it?” he asked when she disconnected.
    “A murder. Just up the road, near the church.”
    “You’re in charge?”
    She nodded. “As of now, anyway. The superintendent can’t be reached.”
    “Any details?”
    “A woman, found by her husband.”
    “Come on. You’ll be quicker if I drive you up the road.” His adrenaline had started to flow, but as they hurried to the car, he realized with a stab of disappointment that no matter how challenging the case about to unfold, he would be merely an onlooker.
    He saw the flash of blue lights to their left as they crested the hill. Kincaid pulled up behind the last of the panda cars, then followed Gemma as she greeted the constable deployed to keep back onlookers.
    “What can you tell me, John?” she asked quietly.
    The young man looked a bit green about the gills. “I took the call. Gentleman came home and found his wife between her car and the hedge. He called the paramedics but it was already too late—she was dead.”
    “How?”
    “Throat cut.” He swallowed. “There’s a lot of blood.”
    “Has the pathologist been called? And the scene-of-crime lads?”
    “Yes, ma’am. Sergeant Franks took command until you arrived, ma’am.”
    Kincaid saw Gemma grimace, but she said merely, “All right, John, thank you. You’ll get the area cordoned off before the SOCO’s get here?”
    “Yes, ma’am. Constable Paris has it in hand.” As he spoke, a female constable appeared from behind the last of the patrol cars. She began unrolling the blue-and-white tape that would delineate the crime scene.
    Following Gemma as she spoke to the young woman, Kincaid was the first to see the approach of a heavyset man already clad in the requisite white crime-scene coverall. This must be Sergeant Franks, whom Gemma had mentioned with dislike and a grudging respect. Balding, middle-aged, his face creased by an expression of perpetual discontent, Franks addressed Gemma without preamble. “You’d better suit up, then, before you go any further.”
    “Thanks, Gerry,” Gemma replied smoothly. “Have you a coverall handy? Make that two.” She glanced back at Kincaid, adding, “This is Superintendent Kincaid, from the Yard.”
    As they slipped into the coveralls Franks produced from the boot of one of the cars, Gemma asked, “What have you got so far, Gerry?”
    “Husband arrived home, expecting his wife to be ready for a dinner engagement. Her car was in the drive, but the house was dark. He went in and called out for her, had a look round, then came back out into the drive and found the body. Tried to rouse her, then called nine-nine-nine.”
    “Did the paramedics touch her?”
    “No, but the husband did. He’s a right mess.”
    “What’s his name?”
    “Karl Arrowood. Quite a bit older than his wife, I’d say, and well off. Owns a poncey antiques shop on Kensington Park Road.”
    The well-off part was obvious, Kincaid thought, glancing up at the house. The lower windows were now ablaze with