Broken Lines Read Online Free

sudden interest in church architecture, couldn’t take his eyes off the lych-gate. Donovan sighed. ‘Mikey made a slight error of judgement: he mistook Chevening roundabout for the straight at Silverstone. I yanked him out of the van, he yanked me out of the explosion. Jesus, he threw my jacket in the fire! That’s why I’m so cold. I thought it was shock.’
    Cathy Flynn came over with a blanket which Donovan shrugged around himself. He sat on the bench looking like a vulture whose last antelope disagreed with him.
    Soon after that the ambulance arrived, and on its tail the fire engine. When the fire was out no more remained of the red van than a few tangled spars of blackened metal sitting in a hole in the road.
    The paramedics helped Mikey into the back of the ambulance. By then firemen with cutting equipment had freed the woman from the white saloon and they went to check that she too was fit to be moved. She was: she had escaped virtually without injury. With a little support she was able to walk to the ambulance.
    One of the paramedics peered at the angular figure on the bench with its smoke-blackened face and blanket. ‘It’s Detective Sergeant Donovan, isn’t it? Are you coming with us?’
    Donovan nodded and climbed creakily to his feet. ‘Better had. There’s something I have to say to Mikey.’
    His head was clearing all the time. In the ambulance he found a seat opposite where Mikey Dickens was stretched out. His battered face ventured a fractional smile. ‘Mikey—’
    Now he was out of danger Mikey was high on adrenalin. For possibly the first time in his life he’d behaved better and achieved more than anyone could have expected. For possibly the first time in his life he was not merely pleased with himself but proud of himself.
    He propped himself up on one elbow and his pinched little face glowed. ‘That’s all right, Mr Donovan, you don’t need to say it.’
    But Donovan did. ‘Michael Dickens, I am arresting you for the armed robbery of Ashog Kumani’s Garage, Cambridge Road, on January the fifth. You are not obliged to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention now … er … something which you later wish to rely on … um … Will be taken down.’ Even when he wasn’t concussed he had trouble with the new caution. He thought for a moment longer, then gave up. ‘Hell, Mikey, you’ve heard it before, you know what it means. It means you’re nicked.’

Chapter Three
    â€˜You do not have to say anything,’ said Detective Superintendent Frank Shapiro sternly. ‘But I must caution you that if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court it may harm your defence. If you do say anything it may be given in evidence.’
    â€˜Uhhuh,’ said Donovan.
    Shapiro bristled. ‘Never mind Uhhuh: this matters. The first time I have a case thrown out of court because you couldn’t be bothered to caution the suspect correctly I’ll have you directing traffic. Why is it a problem, anyway? Twenty-year-old kids in their first week of basic training have it off word-perfect. So, for that matter, have old codgers like me and Sergeant Bolsover who learned the old one when Adam was under the age of criminal responsibility. In God’s name, Sergeant, what is your problem?’
    Donovan mumbled something, avoiding his eyes.
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜I was concussed,’ Donovan said defensively. The cut over his cheekbone was held together by butterfly plasters and the whole orbit of his eye was black. ‘First the sod hit me in the face, then we clashed heads. I’m sorry I wasn’t up to giving the Gettysburg Address under these circumstances but I have to say, I doubt Lincoln would have been either.’
    Shapiro sighed. Tearing strips off Detective Sergeant Donovan was a thankless task. For one thing, it was like