Snatched From Home: What Would You Do To Save Your Children? (DI Harry Evans Book 1) by Graham Smith Page B

and poured a small measure of whisky for Evans and a larger one for himself.
    ‘What we need to know is whether you or any your staff have visited certain licensed premises over the last three months. In a professional capacity that is.’ Campbell started the interview, hoping the Michelle who was asked to bring coffee wasn’t the receptionist Evans had insulted.
    ‘That should be easy to find out from our records.’ Peters reached for his computer. ‘Which premises are we talking about?’
    After Evans listed the premises, Peters admitted that he took care of the Black Horse and Beenies personally and a colleague did the accounts for Jumpers.
    ‘What about the Vaults in Carlisle?’ Campbell wanted to know if the firm also represented the latest victim.
    ‘Not one of ours, I’m afraid.’
    ‘Do you regularly visit your clients?’
    ‘It’s preferable when collecting accounts as there’s always something they forget, but I haven’t personally collected accounts since some of your colleagues relieved me of my license a couple of years ago. I prefer customers to come to me anyway.’
    ‘Why’s that?’
    ‘Because most people try and hide things from their accountant, which we inevitably find. This often leads to confrontation and I prefer having the home advantage. Also it means that if a member of staff has been stealing from them, they have a cooling off period before they confront the staff member. This can save unnecessary violence.’
    Throwing a look towards Evans that he was ready to go, Campbell stood, thanking Peters for his time and information.
    Evans was nursing his whisky with an uncommon slowness, but he got the message, drained his glass and hauled himself out of the chair. When Campbell opened the door, Michelle was walking their way with a tray of coffee and biscuits, wearing a self-satisfied smile on her less-than-pretty face.
    ‘You’re too late, lass.’ Michelle’s smile dropped when she saw them leaving the office.
    Evans didn’t give her a chance to respond. ‘Your skirt helps the blouse, but you need to lose a coupla pounds from those hips or the weight will spread like wildfire to your already rounded backside.’
    Fearing the tray was about to be thrown, Campbell held the door open and suggested that she give the coffee to Mr Peters and before she had time to make a choice he shepherded her into the office.
    Campbell couldn’t contain his dislike at Evans’s treatment of the girl. ‘Why are you such as bastard to some people?’
    ‘No silly little girl is gonna tell me I’m late.’
    ‘We were late.’
    ‘That’s not the point and you fucking well know it.’
    ‘Why the hell do you do it, Harry?’ Campbell spun to face Evans as he questioned him. ‘One minute you’re chatting to every Tom, Dick and Harry on the street and the next you’re abusing that receptionist like there’s no tomorrow.’
    ‘I’ve know them folks for years. Now stop your bleating and come on.’
    They climbed back into the car and Evans set off into Kendal’s bewildering one-way system with the assured confidence of a local.
    ‘Where are we going now?’
    ‘I want to check in with an old acquaintance in Windermere before we go back to the station. Do us a favour and call Lauren to get us an update.’
    Campbell made the call and asked her to fill them in on any developments, taking care to inform her she was on speaker. She reported there had been a breakthrough on the car cons as one of the first cars to be sold had been resold to a man from Preston. ‘He bought it from a garage in Lancaster. The salesman told the buyer the car was part of a trade-in deal he had just done and sold it for fifty-five hundred.’
    Evans’s reaction to this news was typically profane. ‘Two and a half grand, made on one second-hand car in less than a week. Well, roger me with a pool cue until my eyes bleed. If the guy wasn’t a car dealer then I could start to like him.’
    Ignoring Evans, Campbell took