V. L. McDermid - Kick Back

Kate Brannigan, feisty Manchester-based PI, is back, investigating the bizarre case of the missing conservatories. Before Long shes up to her neck in crooked land deals, mortgage scams, financial chicanery and murder. But when a favour for a friend puts Kates own life in danger, bizarre is not the first word she thinks of

Writing is a solitary business, but there are always other people who have helped make a book. As far as Kick Back is concerned, I owe thanks to Diana Cooper, who guided me through the legal minefields as well as providing inspirations of various kinds; Stephen Gaskell, the man from Macclesfield who takes the pain out of conveyancing; Kirstie Blades from the Birkenhead Land Registry who took the time and trouble to make sure I understood what goes on there; Andrew at Information Technology Resource in Horwich; the Longsight cheque squad, who dont even know they helped; my editor, Julia Wisdom; and, as always, the team at Gregory and Radice. Any mistakes are uniquely mine.

The Case of the Missing Conservatories. Sounds like the Sherlock Holmes story Conan Doyle didnt get round to writing because it was too boring. Let me tell you, I was with Conan Doyle on this one. If it hadnt been for the fact that our secretarys love life was in desperate need of ECT, theres no way Id have got involved. Which, as it turned out, might have been no bad thing.

I was crouched behind the heavy bulk of the elevator machinery, holding my breath, desperately praying Id pick the right moment to make my move. I knew I wouldnt get a second chance with a nasty bag of works like Vohauls hit man. I caught sight of him as he emerged from the stairwell. I leaped to my feet and threw myself at one of the pair of heavy pulley attachments suspended from the ceiling. It shot across the room towards my relentless opponent. At the last minute he turned, spotted it and ducked, letting it whistle over his head. My mouth dried with fear as he caught sight of me and headed menacingly in my direction. I dodged round the elevator machinery, trying to keep it between us so I could make a dash for the stairs. As he rushed after me, I desperately swung the other pulley towards him. It caught him on the side of the head, the momentum plunging him over the lip of the lift shaft into the blackness below. Id done it! Id managed to stay alive!

I let my breath out in a slow sigh of relief and leaned back in the chair, hitting the key that offered me the Save Game option. A glance at my watch told me it was time to leave Space Quest III for the day. Id had the half-hour lunch break that was all I could spare in my partner Bills absence. Besides, I knew that our secretary

That particular week, I was the only show in town. Bill had abandoned ship for the fleshpots (or should that be lobster pots?) of the Channel Islands to run a computer security course for a merchant bank. Which meant that Kate Brannigan was the only functioning half of Mortensen and Brannigan, as far as the UK mainland was concerned. Say it fast like that and we sound like major players instead of a two-operative agency that handles a significant chunk of the white-collar crime in the North West of England.

I headed for the cupboard off my office that doubles as the ladies loo and office darkroom. I had a couple of films that needed processing from my weekend surveillance outside a pharmaceutical companys lab. PharmAce Supplies had been having some problems with their stock control. Id spent a couple of days working on the inside as a temporary lab assistant, long enough to realize that the problem wasnt what went on in working hours. Someone was sneaking in when the lab was locked and helping himself or herself, then breaking into the computer stock records to doctor them. All I needed to discover was the identity of the hacker, which had been revealed after a couple of evenings sat cramped in the back of Mortensen and Brannigans newest toy, a Little Rascal van that wed fitted out specifically for stake-out work. Hopefully, the proof that incriminated the senior lab technician was in my hand, captured forever on the fastest film that money could buy.

I was looking forward to half an hour in the darkroom, away from phones that didnt seem to have stopped ringing since Bill left. No such luck. Id barely closed the blackout curtain when the intercom buzzed at me like that horrible drill dentists use to smooth off a filling. The buzzing stopped and Shelleys distorted voice came at me like Donald Duck on helium. Kate, I have a client for you, I deciphered.

I sighed. The Tooth Fairys revenge for playing games on the

Theres no appointment in the book, I tried.

Its an emergency. Can you come out of the darkroom, please?

I suppose so, I grumbled. I knew there was no point in refusing. Shelley is quite capable of letting a full minute pass, then hammering on the door claiming an urgent case of Montezumas Revenge from the Mexican taco bar downstairs where she treats herself to lunch once a week. She always varies the days so I can never catch her out in a lie.

Still grumbling, I let myself back into my office. Before Id taken the three steps back to my chair, Shelley was in the room, closing the door firmly behind her. She looked slightly agitated as she crossed to my desk, an expression about as familiar on her face as genuine compassion is on Baroness Thatchers. She handed me a new-client form with the name filled in. Ted Barlow. Tell me about it, I said, resigning myself.

He owns a firm that builds and installs conservatories and his bank are calling in his loans, demanding repayment of his overdraft and refusing him credit. He needs us to find out why and to persuade his bank to change their minds, Shelley explained, slightly breathlessly. Well out of character. I was beginning to wonder just what had happened to her over lunch.

Shelley, I groaned. You know thats not our kind of thing. The guys been up to some fiddle, the bank have cottoned on and he wants someone to pull him out of the shit. Simple as that. Theres no money in it, theres no point.

Kate, just talk to him, please? Shelley as supplicant was a new role on me. She never pleads for anything. Even her demands for raises are detailed in precise, well-documented memos. The guys desperate, he really needs some help. Hes not on the fiddle, Id put money on it.

If hes not on the fiddle, hes the only builder that hasnt been since Solomon built the temple, I said.

Shelley tossed her head, the beads woven into her plaits jangling like wind chimes. Whats the matter with you, Kate? she challenged

So she should have done. She was bang out of order. But shed caught my attention, though not for the reason shed thought. I decided I wanted to see Ted Barlow, not because Id been guilt tripped. But I was fascinated to see the man who had catapulted Shelley into the role of a lioness protecting her cubs. Since her divorce, I hadnt seen any man raise her enviable cool by so much as a degree.

Send him in, Shelley, I replied abruptly. Lets hear what the man has to say for himself.