Val McDermid - Crack Down

For my mother,

with love and thanks

If slugs could smile, theyd have no trouble finding jobs as car salesmen. Darryl Day proved that. Oozing false sincerity as shiny as a slime trail, hed followed us round the showroom. From the start, hed made it clear that in his book, Richard was the one who counted. I was just the bimbo wife. Now Darryl sat, separated from the pair of us by a plastic desk, grinning maniacally with that instant, superficial matiness that separates sales people from the human race. He winked at me. And Mrs Barclay will love that leather upholstery, he said suggestively.

Under normal circumstances, Id have got a lot of pleasure out of telling him his tatty sexism had just cost him the commission on a twenty grand sale, but these circumstances were so far from normal, I was beginning to feel like Ground Control to Major Tom as far as my brain was concerned. So instead, I smiled, patted Richards arm and said sweetly, Nothings too good for my Dick. Richard twitched. I reckon he knew instinctively that one way or another, he was going to pay for this.

Now, let me just check that were both clear what youre buying here. Youve seen it in the showroom, weve taken it on the test drive of a lifetime, and youve decided on the Gemini turbo super coup GLXi in midnight blue, with ABS, alloy wheels As Darryl ran through the luxury spec Id instructed Richard to go for, my partners eyes glazed over. I almost felt sorry for him. After all, Richards car of choice is a clapped-out, customized hot pink Volkswagen Beetle convertible. He thinks BHP is that new high-quality tape system. And isnt ABS that dance band from Wythenshawe?

Darryl paused expectantly. I kicked Richards ankle. Only gently, though. Hed done well so far. He jerked back to reality and said, Er, yeah, that sounds perfect. Sorry, I was just a bit carried away, thinking about what its going to be like driving her. Nice one, Richard.

Youre a very lucky man, if I may say so, Darryl smarmed, eyeing the curve of my calf under the leopard skin leggings that Id chosen as appropriate to my exciting new role as Mrs Richard Barclay. He tore his gaze away and shuffled his paperwork. Top of the range, that little beauty is. But now, Im afraid, we come to the painful bit. Youve already told me you dont want to part-ex, is that right?

Richard nodded. S right. My last motor got nicked, so Ive got the insurance payout to put down as a deposit. Which leaves me looking for six grand. Should I sort out a bank loan or what?

Darryl looked just like the Duke of Edinburgh when he gets a stag in his sights. He measured Richard up, then flicked a casual glance over me. The only problem with that, Richard, is that its going to take you a few days to get your friendly bank manager in gear. Whereas, if we can sort it out here and now, you could be driving that tasty motor tomorrow tea time. Classic sales ploy; take it off them.

Richard did his personal version of the Frys Five Boys gamut, from disappointment to anticipation. So can we do that, then, Darryl? he asked eagerly.

Darryl already had the forms prepared. He slid them across the desk to show Richard. As it happens, we have an arrangement with a finance company who offer a very competitive rate of interest. If you fill in the forms now, we can sort it with a phone call. Then, tomorrow, if you bring in a bankers draft for the balance, well be able to complete the paperwork and the carll be all yours to drive away.

I looked at the form, not so easy now Darryl had reclaimed it to fill in the remaining blanks. Richmond Credit Finance. Address and phone number in Accrington. It wasnt the first time Id seen their footprints all over this investigation. Id meant to check the company out, but I hadnt got round to it yet. I made a mental note to get on to it as soon as I had a spare moment. I tuned back in at the bit where Darryl was asking Richard what he did for a living. This was always the best bit.

Im a freelance rock journalist, Richard told him.

Really? Darryl asked. Interesting how his face opened up when he experienced a genuine emotion like excitement. Does that mean you interview all the top names and that? Like Whitney Houston and Beverley Craven?

Richard nodded glumly. Sometimes.

God, what a great job! Hey, whos the most famous person youve ever interviewed? You ever met Madonna?.

Richard squirmed. Its the question he hates most. There arent that many rock stars he has much respect for, either as people or as musicians, and only a handful of them are names that most members of the public would identify as superstars. Depends what you mean by famous. Springsteen. Elton John. Clapton. Tina Turner. And yeah, I did meet Madonna once.

Wow! And is she really, you know, as, like, horny as she comes over?

Richard forced a smile. Not in front of the wife, eh? I was touched. He was really trying to make this work.

Darryl ran a hand through his neat dark hair and winked. In an adult, it would have been lewd. Gotcha, Richard. Now, your annual income. What would that be?

I switched off again. Fiction, even the great stuff, is never as interesting when youre hearing it for the nth time. Darryl didnt hang about explaining little details like annual percentage interest rates to Richard, and within ten minutes, he was on to the finance company arranging our car loan. Thanks to the wonders of computer technology, credit companies can check out a punter and give the thumbs up or down almost instantaneously. Whatever Richmond Credit Finance pulled up on their computer, it convinced them that Richard was a sound bet for a loan. Of course, when youre relying on computers, its important to remember that what you get out of them depends entirely on what someone else has put in.

Twenty minutes later, Richard and I were walking out of the showroom, the proud possessors, on paper at least, of the flashest set of wheels the Leo Motor Company puts on the road. I do all right, Mrs Barclay? Richard asked eagerly, as we walked round the corner to where Id parked the Peugeot 205 Mortensen and Brannigan had been leasing for the six months since my last company car had ended up looking like an installation from the Tate Gallery.

You wish, I snarled. Dont push your luck, Barclay. Let me tell you, the longer I spend pretending to be your wife, the more I understand why your first marriage didnt go the distance.

I climbed in the car and started the engine. Richard stood on the pavement, looking hangdog, his tortoiseshell glasses slipping down his nose. Exasperated, I pushed the button that lowered the passenger window. Oh for Gods sake, get in, I said. You did really well in there. Thank you.

He smiled and jumped in. Youre right, you know.

I usually am, I said, only half teasing, as I eased the car out into the busy stream of traffic on the Bolton to Blackburn road. About what in particular?

That being a private eye is ninety-five per cent boredom coupled with five per cent fear. The first time we did that routine, I was really scared. I thought, what if I forget what Im supposed to say, and they suss that were setting them up, he said earnestly.

It wouldnt have been the end of the world, I said absently, keeping an eye on the road signs so I didnt miss the turn off for Manchester. Were not dealing with the Mafia here. They wouldnt have dragged you out kicking and screaming and kneecapped you.

No, but you might have, Richard said. He was serious.

I laughed. No way. Id have waited till I got you home.

Richard looked worried for a moment. Then he decided I was joking. Anyway, he said, now when we do it, Im not nervous any more. The only danger is that its so repetitious Im afraid Ill blow it out of boredom.