Wrongful Death Read Online Free Page A

Dewar standing beside him was not what he was expecting. Stunningly attractive, she had soft, shoulder-length shiny-blonde hair and wide hazel-grey eyes. She wore little makeup; she didn’t need to with her flawless, lightly tanned skin. She was wearing a pink Solaro blouse and smart grey tailored suit, while the cut of her clothing and her high heels accentuated her curvaceous figure. She gave off an air of knowing she was a sexually attractive woman but also one who would take no nonsense.
    ‘I was expecting Jimmy Langton,’ Dewar said, causing Paul to rouse from his transfixed stupor.
    ‘He’s blind . . . I mean he got stuck behind . . . at work with a meeting. I’m Paul Barolli, the Detective Inspector on the murder squad you’ll be working with. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Agent Dewar.’
    She gave him a small cool nod and shook his hand firmly.
    ‘I’m a supervisory special agent, Detective Barolli,’ Dewar replied in a matter-of-fact tone as he took hold of her suitcase.
    ‘That’s a mouthful. We use rank initials as abbreviations. Like DI for my rank, DCI for Chief Inspector . . .’
    ‘I hardly think SS Dewar would be appropriate.’
    Although Paul Barolli felt that Agent Dewar was somewhat abrupt, he put it down to her having had a long tiring day. As he drove to Vauxhall he sensed that she was not in the mood for conversation so he pointed out various sights of interest and suggested that when she felt like it he would be only too pleased to give her a proper tour round London. Dewar thanked him for his offer but doubted that her work commitments would allow time for sightseeing. Paul told her that there was a copy of the Reynolds file for her on the back seat and started to give her a run-down on the case, to which Dewar said nothing but leaned over to retrieve the file and began reading. Paul knew she wasn’t listening to a word he said.
    It was just after ten p.m. when they reached Nine Elms Lane in Vauxhall. The sat-nav voice informed them that their destination was two hundred yards on the left and Paul could see that meant St George’s Wharf, an award-winning development of luxury flats and penthouses with riverside views of the Thames. He was somewhat surprised that Dewar was being provided with such upmarket accommodation and suspected that it must be one of the flats used by the top brass at Scotland Yard.
    As Dewar looked round the apartment, Barolli followed her and explained how to use the kitchen equipment, under-floor heating and air-conditioning.
    ‘There’s a garage with a Tesco Express down the road. Do you want me to get you some groceries while you unpack?’ he offered, but she said that she’d prefer to do her own shopping the following day. Paul told her that he would pick her up at nine a.m. to take her to Belgravia to meet the team. Dewar thanked him but said she would make her own way into the station, and then turned and walked off into the bedroom, leaving Barolli with little option but to bid her good night. He had just placed his hand on the door latch, about to open it, when there was a loud repeated knock, which made him jump. Opening the door he was surprised to see DCS Langton standing there with a bouquet of roses, bottle of champagne and bulging bag of groceries.
    ‘And there I was thinking you didn’t care about me any more,’ Paul quipped.
    ‘It’s past your bedtime, Barolli,’ Langton replied.
    Jessie Dewar walked out of the bedroom and suddenly came to life, greeting Langton with a howl of pleasure as she leaped into his arms and gave him a big hug.
    ‘How come you weren’t at the airport to meet me, Jimmy?’
    Paul watched Langton disentangle himself and explain he had been caught up at work.
    ‘Well, I’ll be off then, shall I?’ Paul asked.
    ‘Yeah, yeah, you take off,’ Langton said, wafting his hand and following Jessie into the living room.
    Paul let himself out, still not knowing exactly what to make of Agent Dewar. It was more than