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Page 27
“Who saw the visitor?” I said.
“I can’t tell you, but we need to be able to come in as if we know you. We can explain and show our ID once we’re inside….It’s nothing to worry about.”
Nothing to worry about? He and I led very different lives. His words “we” and “our” also bothered me. There were now two of them – was the other the driver of the getaway car?
“Mr Mumford, you can ring the station at St Aldates – the number is in the book. Speak to DS Reed. If you ask him who he supports, he’ll say QPR. He’ll confirm that me and DC Passmore will call in about five minutes. It’s nothing serious.”
“Supporting QPR is,” I said as I began to believe DS Skinner.
“It’s a way of showing you that I know him – like a code.”
“Yes, I’d kind of guessed that.”
“He’ll call us when you’ve spoken to him. Can you do that?”
“Yes, I can, but if he doesn’t know you, I’ll call the police.”
“He is the police,” Skinner said. “Can you just do it, please?”
His aggressive manner convinced me that he was a real policeman.
“I’ll do it now.”
“Good.”
He hung up.
Bloody hell. I placed both hands on the table and let my chin rest on my chest. Perhaps
DC Skinner was him. But why my garden? I needed to ring the station. The number for
St Aldates was displayed in the directory on a full-
“Unlike policemen. And, one thing; I’m not an academic.”