Black & Blue (Lord & Lady Hetheridge Book 4) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Emma Jameson
Kevlar vest positioned against a chimney, rifle at ready.
"Oh."
"And behind us," Tony continued. "Atop the trattoria on Westbury."
Turning her head as unobtrusively as possible, Kate picked out two more armed SO19 officers, so well-positioned as to be almost invisible. If a suspect tried to flee East Asia House, he or she would pass directly through the officers' sights. "How did you notice them?"
"How could I not? I owe police snipers my life." He referred to that event, long before Kate came to Scotland Yard, which had sealed his reputation as ice cold under pressure. "Therefore, I tend to look for them when approaching a scene. Let's clear those civilians before we pass the barriers. Sharpshooters or no, unneeded distractions are dangerous."
Warrant card in hand, he approached the elderly woman with the girls. Withdrawing her own credentials, Kate approached the bald man with the Alsatian on a lead. Its gray muzzle lifted, tail thumping its master's leg in friendly anticipation. The man, however, narrowed his eyes. Then he pointedly turned his back on her, staring at East Asia House as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.
"Excuse me, sir. I'm DS Kate Wa—Hetheridge. Scotland Yard." Though the bald man's face remained averted, she held up the warrant card anyway. "I must ask you to go. Let the police conduct their business."
The man said nothing. The Alsatian tugged at its lead, giving Kate a happy bark as its tail wagged even harder.
"Sir. Did you hear? I'm DS Hetheridge of Scotland Yard," Kate repeated firmly. "I'm ordering you to clear off. Now."
"Hetheridge, eh?" The man gave Kate a sidelong glance. Perhaps sixty years old, he had a doughy face, trimmed mustache, and beady black eyes. "Very well. This is a public street, DS Hetheridge, and I am a British citizen. I've lived here forty years, never mind the accent," he said, imitating an Indian cadence thicker than his natural one, "so I know my rights. I pay your salary, and I'm telling you to leave me in peace."
This sort of response wasn't uncommon. According to recent UK opinion polls, the police ranked low in public esteem, just beneath sales clerks and traffic wardens.
"Sir, this is for your own safety, as well as the sake of an ongoing criminal investigation." Kate kept the warrant card up. "If you disobey my direct order, you leave me no choice but to ask a constable to remove you."
"Madam," the man replied, as certain sale clerks might address a troublesome customer. "I have four barristers and thirteen solicitors in my family. I've done nothing wrong, and I—"
"Sergeant!" Tony called. He'd already warned the grandmotherly sort off. She was walking away with small girls in tow, grumbling aloud all the while. "Must I send for a PC?"
"Should he?" Kate prompted the bald man. The dog let out another friendly bark, prompting a stern command from its master in Hindi.
"My, my. The noble Lord Hetheridge himself," the man said viciously. "Always where he shouldn't be, taking what doesn't belong to him."
"What are you on about?"
"He has a great deal to answer for," said the man, pulling his knitted scarf over his mouth and nose. "And he'll get what he deserves, in good time. Come, Mani."
Mani the Alsatian whined but obeyed her master. Watching them go, Kate committed the image of man and dog to memory. As she rejoined her husband, she asked, "Who was that?"
Tony gave him a cursory glance. "No idea whatsoever."
"Well, he knows you. And doesn't seem to like you very much."
"Is that so?" He shrugged. "Try not to take it personally. I don't. Every time I send a murderer to prison, I alienate a fresh handful of people." He led Kate toward a semi-circle of plastic barriers strung together with blue and white police tape. "These days, the only enemies that concern me are the ones inside Scotland Yard."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Never mind. Good evening, Constable Kincaid," he said, greeting the young man behind the barrier. Kate was
"Oh."
"And behind us," Tony continued. "Atop the trattoria on Westbury."
Turning her head as unobtrusively as possible, Kate picked out two more armed SO19 officers, so well-positioned as to be almost invisible. If a suspect tried to flee East Asia House, he or she would pass directly through the officers' sights. "How did you notice them?"
"How could I not? I owe police snipers my life." He referred to that event, long before Kate came to Scotland Yard, which had sealed his reputation as ice cold under pressure. "Therefore, I tend to look for them when approaching a scene. Let's clear those civilians before we pass the barriers. Sharpshooters or no, unneeded distractions are dangerous."
Warrant card in hand, he approached the elderly woman with the girls. Withdrawing her own credentials, Kate approached the bald man with the Alsatian on a lead. Its gray muzzle lifted, tail thumping its master's leg in friendly anticipation. The man, however, narrowed his eyes. Then he pointedly turned his back on her, staring at East Asia House as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.
"Excuse me, sir. I'm DS Kate Wa—Hetheridge. Scotland Yard." Though the bald man's face remained averted, she held up the warrant card anyway. "I must ask you to go. Let the police conduct their business."
The man said nothing. The Alsatian tugged at its lead, giving Kate a happy bark as its tail wagged even harder.
"Sir. Did you hear? I'm DS Hetheridge of Scotland Yard," Kate repeated firmly. "I'm ordering you to clear off. Now."
"Hetheridge, eh?" The man gave Kate a sidelong glance. Perhaps sixty years old, he had a doughy face, trimmed mustache, and beady black eyes. "Very well. This is a public street, DS Hetheridge, and I am a British citizen. I've lived here forty years, never mind the accent," he said, imitating an Indian cadence thicker than his natural one, "so I know my rights. I pay your salary, and I'm telling you to leave me in peace."
This sort of response wasn't uncommon. According to recent UK opinion polls, the police ranked low in public esteem, just beneath sales clerks and traffic wardens.
"Sir, this is for your own safety, as well as the sake of an ongoing criminal investigation." Kate kept the warrant card up. "If you disobey my direct order, you leave me no choice but to ask a constable to remove you."
"Madam," the man replied, as certain sale clerks might address a troublesome customer. "I have four barristers and thirteen solicitors in my family. I've done nothing wrong, and I—"
"Sergeant!" Tony called. He'd already warned the grandmotherly sort off. She was walking away with small girls in tow, grumbling aloud all the while. "Must I send for a PC?"
"Should he?" Kate prompted the bald man. The dog let out another friendly bark, prompting a stern command from its master in Hindi.
"My, my. The noble Lord Hetheridge himself," the man said viciously. "Always where he shouldn't be, taking what doesn't belong to him."
"What are you on about?"
"He has a great deal to answer for," said the man, pulling his knitted scarf over his mouth and nose. "And he'll get what he deserves, in good time. Come, Mani."
Mani the Alsatian whined but obeyed her master. Watching them go, Kate committed the image of man and dog to memory. As she rejoined her husband, she asked, "Who was that?"
Tony gave him a cursory glance. "No idea whatsoever."
"Well, he knows you. And doesn't seem to like you very much."
"Is that so?" He shrugged. "Try not to take it personally. I don't. Every time I send a murderer to prison, I alienate a fresh handful of people." He led Kate toward a semi-circle of plastic barriers strung together with blue and white police tape. "These days, the only enemies that concern me are the ones inside Scotland Yard."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Never mind. Good evening, Constable Kincaid," he said, greeting the young man behind the barrier. Kate was
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