Page 63 of Glasshouses

“Yep. It’s a hobby. I get to use my hands as well as my brain and see things come together.” He drove smoothly, fully aware of other cars on the road, anticipating other motorists way in advance.

I was a nervous passenger, even with cops who’d done the advanced driving courses, hyper aware of what risks they might be taking and itching to be the one in control, because it was always about control. Taz drove like me, planned, smooth and for a moment or two, I actually relaxed.

“How many houses have you flipped?”

“Ten. Not on my own. Matty, one of my brothers, has a property company. He flips houses and either sells them on or rents them.”

“Do you make money out of it?”

“I wouldn’t do it for free. I invest a share in each property.”

“So the company is also yours.”

“Kind of. I don’t make any business decisions. And in the past, Matty and my brothers have had to do without me.”

“Because of this mysterious career you haven’t told me about.”

He grinned, as if he was really enjoying himself, but didn’t answer.

“How did you get the files on the pen drive?” Now seemed as good a time as any to question my suspect as he had no way to escape.

“I have talents that my mother doesn’t.”

Another cryptic answer. “You mean you hacked into things you shouldn’t.”

“Not quite. Are you going to look through them when we get back?”

“Absolutely.” I checked my phone for any updates from Lachy who was on shift for the rest of the day. Nothing.

“Let me know what you think.”

“You could just tell me now.”

He shrugged and turned up the radio, house music from the turn of the century now blasting like he was a teenager who’d just passed his driving test. “Matty’s going to come round at six to look at the plumbing. He’ll get everything in tomorrow, and I’ll start the tiling on Monday.”

“What are you getting out of this?” My scepticism hadn’t gone away. “I’m sure you’ve got lots to do.”

“Making sure Manchester’s star detective has a comfortable place to rest so the city can be more effectively policed.”

“That is such a bullshit answer.”

More laughter. He was enjoying himself. “Can I crash on your sofa tonight?”

“Why? Has your mum kicked you out?”

“Not since last week. No, one of my brothers is staying with his two kids, so they want the room I’m in. I could sleep on her sofa, but the kids will think it’s a sleepover and they’ll do anything but sleep.” His jaw tightened. “I’d rather pass on that.”

“Fine with me.”

“I’m not planning on ransacking your house. Most of the contents are now in the skip.” He glanced at me while we were stopped at lights. “I don’t understand how you have such little stuff.”

“I’m a hobo. Or I have been. I decided it was time to hang up my knapsack and plant roots.” It would be helpful if I knew how to dig.

He pulled up on my drive, parking the car behind mine. “Matty’s bringing food for us. He’s coming from mum’s and she’s sending supplies. I told her about your kitchen.”

“Oh, that’s nice of her.”

“She was concerned for my health.”