A Limited Justice (#1 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series) by Catriona King Page B

perfume better than any scent she’d ever owned. Their small fingers ran wonderingly through her newly shorn blonde fringe.
    “Mammy, are you going dancing?”
    Jessie turned to her sophisticated four-year-old and laughed. “Yes, Ruby, funny dancing. Like you saw me do last week in the supermarket.”
    Then she deliberately wobbled. It didn’t take any effort nowadays and it always made them laugh. They didn’t understand, and that was how it would stay for years to come, thanks to Fiona.
    Fiona smiled at her “You look really lovely, Jessie – when will you be back?”
    It was said anxiously as the two women looked at each other above the small heads, having a second, silent conversation.
    “I’ve packed enough for three days – that should do it.”
    She looked down at their shiny faces again. “You be good girls for Fiona and do everything she tells you. Now, wish me good luck.”
    A high-pitched chorus of “Good luck, Mammy” filled the air, although neither child understood what it meant. Fiona reached across and hugged hard at the younger woman’s thin frame, tears springing to her eyes.
    “Good luck, Jessie,” she whispered. “For both of us.”
    ***
    Danni wasn’t happy about the overtime but Liam’s gut told him that this witness would be important, so evening or no evening he wanted to take her statement himself. He scanned the terraced street as his young driver grabbed his cap, then they entered the garage forecourt in Harkinson Street and stood for a minute, looking at the derelict lot. The cars had been towed and metal shutters were locked to the shop’s windows now, guarding its precious chocolate bars. Yellow crime tape made it clear that entry was definitely ‘verboten’.
    “What are we looking for, sir? Wouldn’t the C.S.I.s have got everything already?”
    Liam stayed silent, sniffing the air, but there was only a vague vapour of petrol left. Nothing else hinted at yesterday’s gruesome scene. He was searching for the unidentified but he’d know it when he saw it. There was always something.
    He beckoned the constable over to the guilty pump. “Have a look around and see if there’s anything they might have missed, son. Give me a yell if you spot anything. It doesn’t matter how stupid it sounds.”
    Then he walked quickly out of the forecourt, past the marked police car and pushed open the low garden gate of an elderly terraced house opposite. The house that three neighbours had said held his eyewitness.
    Although the gate was warped and split, the house itself was of clean, red brick and boasted a new wood and glass front door. Four small windows overhead were dressed in crisp, white netting and the front bay held a green plant that stretched out hopefully for the sun. There was no movement and no sound, but the house was definitely alive; Liam could feel someone at home.
    He hunkered down and lifted the low, brass letterbox, peering into a narrow hallway. A sudden flash of movement at floor level was followed by something cutting his face, and he pulled back quickly. Too late to stop a sharp claw gouging the skin from his nose.
    He lost his balance and felt backwards onto the gravelled path, ripping his trousers in the process. His bellowed, “ah shit,” brought the young P.C. rushing from the forecourt. Liam waved him back quickly, more embarrassed than hurt.
    He knelt up to have another look, at a safer distance this time, and a large ginger cat stared defiantly at him from the end of the hall. It looked clean and well fed which was something at least. It wouldn’t save him from a tetanus jab, but it did imply a caring owner, so he’d learned something already.
    With Danni’s regulation-issue white hanky held firmly across his nose, he stood up, knocking the door hard now. “Police. Open up please, Mrs Foster.”
    A small shadow slowly appeared through the glass and remained stock still, halfway down the hall. It looked like a small woman or a child and Liam could