Crime Always Pays Read Online Free Page A

before.'
              'Famous last words. What about reloads?'
              'I'm only ever reloading in a fire-fight,' Ray said. 'On my own? No way I'm getting in any fire-fights.'
              'Okay. But you're better going with, say, a .38 Special. Never jams, manual load. Hold it between your knees, pop 'em in one at a time.'
              Karen cleared her throat. 'Try this,' she said, 'just for the sake of argument. How about we bring no gun at all?'
              Terry pursed his lips, glanced from Ray to Karen, then back to Ray. Ray didn't look at Karen at all.
    'Uh, Karen?' Terry said. 'No disrespect. But if Ray tells me he's schlepping off across Europe with a case of cash and no heat? I'll bust his other fucking arm here and now.'
              'But what if --'
              'The what-ifs,' Terry said, 'is why you need the .38.'
     
     
     
     
     
    Doyle
     
    'Suspended with pay,' Sparks said reverently.
              Doyle, still feeling her way into it, just shrugged. 'Them's the rules.'
              'So what's the skinny?'
              'Mainly they're wondering how come Ray just fell into my lap.'
              'You wish.' Sparks, the desk sergeant, tucked a wayward strand of frizzy red hair behind her ear. 'That'll be Ted, the jealous prick.'
              Doyle, sipping her latte, was surprised to realise part of her wanted to believe it. Except Ted had hooked up three or four months after he and Doyle split, got himself engaged, some tax analyst he'd met on the dry ski-slope out in Wicklow, Ted getting in some slaloms before heading away for a stag do in the French Alps.
              'Ted's cool, Sparks. The shit's coming down from upstairs.'
              'Because the boys can't find Madge.'
              Doyle remarked on how the boys, her illustrious peers, wouldn't find a priest in Rome. 
              'Unless they bumped into one down the brothel,' Sparks said. 'I mean, it'd be alright, the ransom going west, the surgeon getting his knee blown out, if they at least had the rescued lunching lady to parade around. But she's nowhere. The boys're in a sweaty fret.' She forked up a generous chunk of triple-tier Death by Chocolate. 'You're not worried about her?'
              'She left with Karen and Ray. Wherever she is, she's okay.' Doyle thought about that. 'I was her, finding out Rossi was  my  son? I'd be unconscious on pills somewhere sunny.'
              Sparks lowered her fork. 'The skanger's her  son ?'
              'Long story. What's the latest on Frank?'
              'They're waiting for a warrant to come through to search the house. Plus they're hoping his tart on the side, Genevieve, sobers up sometime this century so they can ask her a few questions.' Sparks shook her head in wonder. 'Seriously, though – Rossi's her son?'
              'So she said. What about Karen and Ray?'
              'The usual All Pointless Bullshit. Airports, ferries.'
              'The boys think they're leaving the country?'
              'Not dragging a wolf with them they're not. By the way, the wolf? The boys're shooting on sight. We're down one Alsatian already, out at Seagrove. I wouldn't mind but it was one of our own.'
              'They're shooting at Anna? But she's a pet.'
              Sparks sucked chocolate off her finger. 'The vet who called in the mauling, the possible rabies? He said the guy was a feather off having his head mushed. And that van they found in the woods, the window was busted in from hard enough to shunt the van into a gully. Inside was like a bomb in a jam factory.' She forked home more cake. 'Why didn't Karen just cross a croc with a rhino, be done with it?'
              'What van is this?'
              'The van in the woods.' Sparks frowned. 'They found it in the gully, beside a wrecked