A Killing in November by Simon Mason

Author:Simon Mason
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Quercus Editions Ltd
Published: 2021-11-30T19:09:38+00:00

Twenty-Six

Ray drove to London for the second time that day. A firearms unit was waiting for them at the photographer’s address. They went out of Oxford through tattered fringes of mist and climbed the Chilterns into cold winter sunlight, speeding on past High Wycombe towards Uxbridge and the grey edge of the city, sprawling in the distance like a blanket left out in the rain. Ryan crouched in his seat with his knees hugged to his chest, almost foetal, making Ray nervous.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ he said, at last.

‘Got something to tell you. A heads-up.’

‘What?’

‘There’s a misconduct thing against me. At the IOPC.’

Ray didn’t reply.

‘Not going to let it bother me. Like I say, I’m always getting mashed.’

Ray drove on.

‘It’s just, I thought this was working out alright. You and me.’

Ray swallowed a noise.

‘Anyway, you’ll probably get called to give a statement. That’s the way they do it.’

A muscle twitched in Ray’s cheek.

‘So, you’ll get a chance to tell them what you think of me.’

Ray spoke at last: ‘I know how it works.’

‘Yeah. Well, that’s it, really. Know what?’

‘What?’

‘Not going to let it bother me.’

‘Good.’

They drove on. Ryan straightened his legs, took out his phone and began to fiddle with it, humming to himself.

Ray glanced over and frowned. ‘What are you doing now?’

Ryan grinned. ‘Wait for this. Wait.’

He held the phone in front of his face and a voice came from it, piping and serious: ‘Daddy?’

‘Yeah?’

‘You’ve got a funny nose.’

‘Must be the phone. What my ears look like?’

Ray said, sideways, ‘Listen, not being funny, but we’re at work. There’ll be an update from the FT coming.’

The piping voice came through again. ‘Daddy?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Rhinocer-horses are very big, aren’t they, Daddy?’

Ryan began to laugh. ‘Rhinocer-horses!’ he said to Ray. ‘Did you hear that? Kid’s a fucking genius.’

Ray said, ‘Can you stop it?’

‘Daddy! You shouldn’t say—’

‘Yeah, alright, good point. What you been doing with Auntie Jade, then?’

Ray said, ‘Are you listening to me? Not now; we’re working.’

Ryan pointed the phone at him. ‘Hey, Ry, look! This is ­Daddy’s partner. He’s called Ray. Come on, Ray, say hello to Ryan.’

Ray glared at the road ahead.

‘Daddy? He’s not a mole, Daddy.’

‘You might be right about that. Maybe he’s a Rhinocer-horse. He’s pretty big. Check out that jacket. What’s that, then, Ray? Is it a Tommy Hilfugger? Know what, Ryan? I thought he was a bit up himself, at first. He is, a bit. Joking. He’s alright, really. Come on, Ray. Say hello.’

Ray muttered, ‘Hello.’

‘Are you Daddy’s friend?’

Ray forced a wary smile. ‘Yes, I am,’ he said, after a long pause. ‘But your Daddy and I have to go now, because we—’

A new voice came on the phone suddenly: ‘Listen to me, knobhead!’

The car swerved slightly as Ray turned, startled, towards the phone, where a young woman’s pixilated face swam in and out of focus.

‘Ryan!’ her voice said. ‘You listening? I don’t want no more of your excuses. Are you going to do it? Are you?’

Ryan held the phone close to his face and spoke quietly: ‘Yes, I’m going to do it,’ he said.

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