Death Watch Read Online Free

secretary – who had finally managed to track him down – informed him that his wife had rung and said she needed to speak to him.
    â€˜Ring her back, and say I’ll call her as soon as I can,’ said Stevenson, who was rather enjoying the heated debate with his students.
    The secretary gave him one of those disapproving looks of hers, which always managed to somewhat disconcert him.
    â€˜I can’t ring her
back
, because she’s still on the line,’ the woman said. ‘And she did tell me it was
urgent
.’
    Stevenson shrugged apologetically. ‘The joys of married life,’ he said to the students, who giggled.
    When he reached his office, two minutes later, he was half expecting that his wife would have grown bored with waiting and hung up. But she hadn’t.
    â€˜Where’ve you been?’ Rosemary Stevenson demanded.
    â€˜Working,’ her husband told her. ‘And aren’t you supposed to be on duty yourself, darling?’
    â€˜I
am
on duty,’ Rosemary told him. ‘That’s why I’m angry it’s taken you so long to answer the phone.’
    â€˜If I’d known you were going to ring—’
    â€˜Listen,’ his wife interrupted, ‘a girl’s gone missing from Whitebridge corporation park – and there’s a tremendous flap on down here.’
    â€˜Oh dear. How awful,’ Stevenson said with feeling. ‘I suppose we must all hope that she turns up again soon.’
    â€˜Is that all you’ve got to say?’ his wife demanded.
    â€˜I don’t think there’s much more I
can
say, except I’m surprised that, given the circumstances, you’ve found the time to ring me at all.’
    â€˜You don’t get it, do you?’ his wife asked, with just a hint of hardness to her voice.
    â€˜Don’t get what, Rosemary?’
    â€˜The girl’s
thirteen
. Chances are, she’s been abducted by some kind of pervert.’
    â€˜Oh, I don’t think that necessarily follows,’ Stevenson said. ‘There are lots of other reasons she could have gone missing. She might be the subject of a parental custody battle and—’
    â€˜She isn’t.’
    â€˜Or perhaps her mother and father don’t approve of her boyfriend, and she’s run off with him. But if that is the case, they won’t get far before they start to see how unrealistic they’re being.’
    â€˜Everybody down at the station thinks this is a sex crime,’ Rosemary interrupted him impatiently.
    â€˜Unless they have considerably more data than you’ve provided me with, I think they must be on very shaky ground to make such a broad assumption,’ Stevenson countered.
    â€˜This is your big chance,’ his wife told him.
    â€˜My big chance?’ Stevenson repeated.
    â€˜DCI Charlie Woodend’s in charge of the case,’ Rosemary said. ‘Cloggin’-it Charlie, they call him.’
    â€˜Interesting. Why do they …?’
    â€˜Because instead of keeping his fat arse parked on a seat behind his desk, like most of the other buggers in his position do, he likes to clog it around the scene of the crime.’
    Stevenson grimaced, and wished his wife would not resort to such crude language quite so often.
    â€˜Well, from what you’ve told me, Mr Woodend seems to be the right man for the job,’ he said.
    â€˜No,’ Rosemary said firmly. ‘You’re the
right
man for the job.’
    â€˜I’m a theoretician – an academic!’ Stevenson protested.
    â€˜So you don’t have any patients, or conduct any interviews?’ his wife asked sarcastically.
    â€˜Well, of course I do. You
know
I do.’
    â€˜Then you’re basically involved in the same kind of work as Cloggin’-it Charlie – except that you’ve got brains, and he hasn’t.’
    â€˜Really, darling …’
    â€˜It’s time you started making a name