"Quintin, Jardine - Autographs in the Rain" - читать интересную книгу автора (Quintin Jardine)

'Neither,' Ruth replied at once. 'He's simply ambitious. Possibly the
most ambitious man I've ever met; he wants to be a Chief in a major force
and to collect the automatic knighthood that goes with it. It's written all
over him. As for his wife ...'




QShe stopped in mid-sentence, slamming a metaphorical door on the
subject. 'Come on, let's get under way again. I want to get to Uncle John's
before dark.'

She smiled at him again, then reached out and ruffled his sandy hair.
This is moving our relationship forward, you know. Quite significantly at
that. If I take someone to meet my favourite uncle it's a sort of sign ... if
only you could read it.'


'Bugger!' Neil swore quietly as the telephone rang; Lauren, his daughter,
looked at him severely.

'Dad!'

'Come on, kid,' he appealed, 'right in the middle of the football results.'

'That's no excuse,' the eleven-year-old retorted. 'Do you want Spence
to use language like that? Or me, even?'

'What are you talking about? You do already.' Still in his armchair, he
leaned across and picked up the phone. 'Hello,' he answered.

'DI Mcllhenney?' a Cockney voice enquired.

'That's me.'

'Hello mate. This is DC Crowther, from the Met. West End Central
Division, Savile Row. I was tryin' to phone your boss, but his mobile
number's unavailable. He left yours as backup.'

'Is that right, Constable?' the Scots detective replied, his hackles risen
instantly. 'Then tell me something. If he'd answered his hand-phone, would
you have called him "mate" as well?' He paused. 'Not that I'm rank
conscious, mind.'

He heard a distinct gulp. 'Sorry, Inspector; it's just that I'm not used to
dealing with Scotsmen.'

'Don't compound it, Constable. Now, what's this about? I haven't seen
DCC Skinner since he left for London on Wednesday.'