*** at the Hog's Head
3.
Two weeks, 14 calls to the Chinese takeaway spot down the street, and 45 pounds worth of petrol later, Ron and I finally stumbled onto a lead. We were sitting in the office, eating cold fried rice when the fax came from Chief Al.
The following items were found on Cedric Diggory's person: a .45 pistol with the serial code filed off, a packet of Marlboro cigarettes, and directions to a warehouse in London. We think he might have been working with the suspect. Take no action, police in London will be notified first thing in the morning.
I jumped up, my heart racing.
"Where the bloody hell are you getting off to so fast? Thought you would be upset," Ron said, taking a bite of chicken.
"Put that down and get on your coat, git," I said, grabbing my keys and scarf.
"Why?" Ron almost wailed, taking another hurried bite of the stir fry.
"Because we're going to London."
The following items were found on Cedric Diggory's person: a .45 pistol with the serial code filed off, a packet of Marlboro cigarettes, and directions to a warehouse in London. We think he might have been working with the suspect. Take no action, police in London will be notified first thing in the morning.
I jumped up, my heart racing.
"Where the bloody hell are you getting off to so fast? Thought you would be upset," Ron said, taking a bite of chicken.
"Put that down and get on your coat, git," I said, grabbing my keys and scarf.
"Why?" Ron almost wailed, taking another hurried bite of the stir fry.
"Because we're going to London."