Carlos could see her red panties as he wheeled himself out from under the car. He lay on the trolley and looked up at her. She was a bit tarty, pushy even, but there was something about her he quite liked. Before he knew what he was doing he heard himself telling her to get in the Jag while he took it for a test run. He lowered the ramp and as Linda got in the passenger seat, she grinned. He couldn’t help smiling back — she was a right cheeky little cow!
Linda sat with her safety belt on, but Carlos didn’t bother with his as he flung the car round the M4 at high speed. She knew he was trying to scare her, but it took more than a 120 miles an hour to do that, and he was clearly a good driver.
Carlos kept brushing her thigh when he changed gear, and she made no effort to move her leg. He wasn’t all that tall compared to Joe, who was six foot three. Carlos, she reckoned, was about five nine, but he was a looker and seemed really nice. She also liked the faint smell of whatever cologne he had on, and as he leaned toward her on a sharp bend she could smell it even more... yes, she would definitely try it on with this one!
Returning to the garage, Carlos found himself taking the Capri out for a road check and then teaching Linda how to do a basic service on it. He told her she’d got a good buy and it only needed a slight bit of work. There was a hole in the radiator, which he repaired there and then. He also cleaned up the spark plugs, points, air filter and rotor arm, explaining what was what and letting Linda do some of the work herself.
All the time she was at his elbow, getting covered in oil. She made him laugh because she was intent on learning as much as possible in the one hour he’d decided to give her. She even insisted on going under the ramp with him on the trolley. He couldn’t quite make her out. He knew she was coming on strong, but at the same time she seemed genuinely interested in the Capri engine.
Four hours later they were still there, with the Capri’s engine, as Carlos said, ‘purring like a kitten.’ As Carlos rubbed his hands with degreaser and wiped them on a rag, he could see Linda’s legs still sticking out from beneath the Capri. She had a tidy set of pins. Her skirt was tucked into her knickers, which looked like red satin, and she wore no stockings. As she eased herself out he looked down, legs either side of her. Linda looked up, past his impressive crotch, and straight into his deep brown eyes. ‘What do I owe you?’ she asked.
‘You mean cash or something else?’ They both laughed and Carlos helped her to her feet.
This time Linda drove and it was Carlos’s turn to be the passenger. As the Capri sped over the flyover toward White City, he kept his eye on the radiator temperature gauge, then as Linda changed into top gear he gave her the nod to put her foot down. The car roared forward increasing speed rapidly — ninety-five, one hundred, one hundred and ten... Linda flicked him a look, but he was more intent now on looking at her legs than the speedometer.
Linda wished she had made some effort to tidy the flat. While Carlos was in the bathroom, she slipped into the bedroom and cleared up her dirty washing, before shaking the duvet straight on the bed. She pulled the bedroom curtains closed then went into the small lounge and poured two large brandies. She took one to the bathroom, where Carlos was shirtless having a shave using Joe’s razor. He had a gorgeous, well-defined body and Linda deliberately brushed against him as she placed the glass down on the sink. He didn’t react or say anything and, feeling miffed, she walked out.
Linda downed her drink in one go then poured herself another shot. She wasn’t sure what to do next, as she’d given him every come on possible and, so far, he hadn’t shown any signs of wanting to rip her clothes off. She heard a sound and, turning round, saw Carlos in his briefs, leaning against the frame of the lounge door holding his brandy. He was even better looking than she had first thought. As he raised his glass and drank the brandy down, Linda could hear the bath running. God, he was certainly making himself at home! Without a word, he poured himself another brandy before heading back to the bathroom.
Linda kept Carlos waiting for a moment and then followed him. He was standing looking at some bath salts.
‘Which do you like? This one or this?’
Linda shrugged. She didn’t really give a shit about bath salts if she was being perfectly honest. He chose the salts he liked best, tipped them into the bath, and then moved closer to her.
‘You wanna sleep with me or not?’ she said petulantly. Carlos said nothing, but began to unbutton her blouse.
At last, she thought, and pulled him closer while trying to wriggle out of her skirt. God, she had the hots for him! She started to back out of the bathroom, pulling him with her, but he didn’t follow. Then, without a word, he suddenly picked her up and dropped her straight in the bath, fully clothed. He laughed, then whisked off his briefs and, as he stepped into the bath with her, Linda could see a thin white line from where he must have worn bikini brief swimming trunks. He was beautiful.
DCI Resnick was on his way to the Sunshine Bread Company with Andrews and Fuller. They were following up on a lead that might mean they’d finally traced the bread truck used in the raid. Resnick was looking serious and focused now that they had something solid to work on. Gone was his self-defensive bravado and, for the first time, Fuller could see glimpses of the copper beneath the obsessed wreck of a man. But he still hated the obnoxious, fat bastard.
Fuller was driving the unmarked CID car like a maiden aunt. Resnick’s impatience finally got the better of him. ‘Put your bloody foot down, Fuller, for God’s sake!’ he shouted. ‘Give it the lights and sirens! We’re after the biggest criminal gang in London here, not going on a fucking picnic!’
At the bread company, a uniformed PC was standing on guard next to the suspect truck. Wally Titherington from forensics was already working on the inside of the vehicle, dusting for fingerprints, and one of his colleagues was taping the seats for fibers. Wally looked up as Resnick approached. ‘Looks like he thinks he’s in a Sam Peckinpah movie.’
‘Right!’ Resnick barked at the Sunshine Bread Company manager. ‘I need an office to use as an interview room.’
The manager was clearly put out. ‘How long is this disruption going on for?’ he complained. ‘Who exactly do you want to interview?’
‘Every driver, every mechanic, every company worker and visitor using this yard, including you. Everyone who has ever come into contact with that bread truck. DC Andrews here will take everyone’s fingerprints for elimination purposes.’ Resnick stalked off.
Fuller stepped forward as the manager’s face started to turn bright pink. ‘This is a very important case, sir, and we’re grateful for your help. The sooner we get set up, the sooner we’ll be out of your hair.’
Resnick looked round the ladies’ cloakroom, hands on hips, and took an enormous drag of his cigarette. He tried to make light of the fact that he’d not been given an office as requested. ‘If we’re lucky, we’ll still be here when they change out of their overalls at home time, eh, Andrews? You might even get to see your first lady.’
Andrews was keeping very quiet; the black fingerprint ink was already all over his shirt sleeves.
‘Look at you!’ Resnick snarled. ‘How the hell do you manage to get dressed in the morning? You do know how to take fingerprints, don’t you?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Andrews whimpered.
‘I’m only checking because you sure as hell don’t know how to follow an old lady walking a poodle!’ Resnick stepped close to Andrews and the smell of the fat man’s BO almost made him gag. ‘Front desk got a call from a pensioner saying that two young hooligans had thrown burgers and milkshakes into her front garden.’ Andrews squirmed. ‘One more incident like that and you’ll pounding the beat in hobnails. Got it?’