LITMIR.BIZ

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does that mean? You’re having sex with her. Eating her food. Using her toilet. You’re probably not paying her bills, but hey, she can’t have everything, right?’

      Stone kept silent. Shook his head.

      ‘Do you know where Jason is, Ned?’ Savage said.

      ‘How the fuck should I know? I haven’t seen him since I was round Angie’s place on Saturday.’

      ‘Are you sure about that?’

      ‘Of course I’m sure. What’s happened to the lad?’

      ‘We’re trying to find out. He vanished Monday evening while digging bait.’

      ‘Gone in the water, has he?’

      ‘Why do you say that?’

      ‘No reason. Just from what you said.’

      ‘You’ve got several convictions, Ned.’ Calter again. ‘One for beating your ex-wife black and blue.’

      ‘It wasn’t like that. She went off with another guy, the two-timing bitch. She didn’t realise how lucky she was to be with me.’

      ‘Lucky?’ Calter huffed. She cast a glance around the room. ‘Yeah, I guess you’re quite a catch. If you’re fishing for worms.’

      ‘Look, bitch, what’s your problem?’

      Calter stepped towards the mattress. She raised a hand. ‘Nobody—’

      ‘DC Calter!’ Savage moved across to Calter. ‘Enough. Wait outside.’

      ‘Ma’am, I only—’

      ‘Out! That’s an order.’

      The DC shrugged and lurched from the room. Savage sighed. Calter had taken an understandable dislike to Stone and the man had got under her skin. That was all very well, but confrontation wouldn’t work here. Subtlety was needed.

      ‘Let’s get back to the subject of Jason,’ Savage said. ‘Are you sure you haven’t seen him?’

      ‘Of course I’m sure.’ Stone stared at the open door after Calter, shaking his head. ‘I haven’t been over the river since the weekend. I was in Plymouth all day Monday and in the evening.’

      ‘How well did you get on with Jason, Ned?’ Savage dropped to the floor in a crouch so she was at the same level as Stone. She wanted to change the parameters of the interview. Become the man’s friend. ‘Did you ever go digging bait with him, fishing maybe?’

      ‘Fishing?’ Stone had sat upright now. He glared across at Savage. ‘You’ve got to be fucking joking. I’m not his dad, am I? The kid’s all right, but he stays out of my way and that’s how I like it.’

      ‘So if you’re not in the relationship for an instant family, why exactly are you with Mrs Hobb?’

      Stone cocked his head and half opened his mouth as if Savage had lost the plot. ‘Why is anybody with anyone? It’s a laugh, isn’t it? Angie turns me on. She might have had a kid but she’s got a great body.’

      ‘So it’s about the sex, is it?’

      ‘Yeah.’ Stone smiled. He stared at Savage as if he fancied his chances. ‘When we met she hadn’t been with anyone for a couple of years. She was gagging for it.’

      ‘I bet she was.’ Savage returned Stone’s smile. ‘And you gave her what she wanted, right?’

      ‘Yeah. She loved it. Still does. Can’t get enough, know what I mean?’

      ‘Yes.’ Savage nodded. ‘So you think you’ve got a long-term thing going with Angie? You’ll move in, make an honest woman of her. Contribute to the household. Pay the mortgage.’

      ‘Nah, don’t think so.’ Stone paused. Cocked his head. ‘Haven’t you heard that expression? Treat ’em mean and keep ’em keen? I don’t want to go getting all lovey-dovey.’

      ‘Nice. You should write a book on the subject, Ned. You’d make a fortune. And that’s what this is all about, isn’t it?’

      ‘Hey?’

      ‘I believe she owns her own house. Most of it, anyway. OK, so Torpoint isn’t exactly Salcombe, but with a little work the place is worth a couple of hundred K. But Angie’s mum sussed you out. You told Angie you had a job in the Navy dockyards, but you don’t have a job at all. What’s more, you did three years for assaulting your ex.’

      ‘Fu …’ Stone paused and said nothing for a moment. ‘You’ve got it wrong. I love Angie. We’re made for each other.’

      ‘Right.’ A few seconds ago Stone had said he didn’t want to get lovey-dovey; now, apparently, she was his soulmate. Savage stood. She walked across to the door. ‘You should know she’s worried sick. Angie. We are too, to be honest.’

      ‘And me.’

      ‘Really?’ Savage shook her head as if she didn’t believe Stone. ‘If you mean that then I suggest you tell me what you were doing Monday so we can eliminate you from our enquiries.’

      ‘I was out in town drinking all day. Various pubs. Had a right skinful.’

      ‘On your own?’

      ‘Yeah. Sad fucker, ain’t I?’

      ‘And then you came home?’

      ‘Yes.’ Stone paused. ‘No. I kipped round a mate’s flat in Stonehouse.’

      ‘You’d better start thinking about the pubs you visited. We’ll want a list. The name of your mate too.’ Stone nodded as Savage stood in the doorway for a moment. ‘And don’t think about doing a runner either, OK?’

      ‘A runner?’ Stone cocked his head on one side. ‘Why on earth would I do that?’

      Savage didn’t stop to give an answer. She went outside and found Calter peering into the rear of Stone’s car.

      ‘We should have this in, ma’am,’ Calter said, tapping the rear window. ‘The CSIs should be giving the vehicle the once-over in case the boy was in there.’

      Savage thought for a moment. She glanced back at Stone’s place. The curtain twitched, Stone’s face visible for a moment before he ducked back from view.

      ‘I don’t think so, Jane. Not yet at least.’

      The wooden raft was all but forgotten by Wednesday. Riley had arranged for the coastguard to take care of its disposal, while he’d handed the aluminium tube, complete with contents, to the Scientific and Technical Services Unit. His concern now was coordinating some intel on a forthcoming drugs raid. A pet grooming parlour in the Stoke area of the city was doubling as a distribution centre for cannabis. Bring your pooch in for a shampoo and leave with a quarter of resin hidden in a bag of dog treats. The place had been under surveillance for the past week and alongside the regular clientele the visitors had included a number of unsavoury characters who wouldn’t normally bother to wash themselves, let alone their mutts.

      Riley sat at a terminal in the crime suite and peered at the screen. The surveillance logs, he hoped, would show some sort of pattern which might indicate the best time to make the raid. The last thing they wanted was a dozen dogs scampering out the front door and onto the main road. Mayhem. It didn’t bear thinking about.

      ‘Darius?’ The voice came from Gareth Collier, the office manager. Collier was ex-military and his voice always had a smidgen of the tone of a sergeant major layered within. His appearance, with a severe haircut and a couple of tats on each forearm, gave no doubt as to the world he’d once inhabited. Collier’s investigations always ran on rails, but unlike with trains, tardiness was something he didn’t allow. ‘Can I have a word?’

      ‘Sure,’ Riley said as Collier came over. ‘What’s up?’

      ‘This guy is what’s

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