The Final Cut (Barney Thomson 7) by Douglas Lindsay

Author:Douglas Lindsay [Lindsay, Douglas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Mystery, Thrillers & Suspense, Suspense, tartan noir, black comedy, barney thomson, robert carlyle, douglas lindsay, omnibus, satire
Amazon: B00GYZLH7U
Publisher: Blasted Heath
Published: 2013-12-04T18:30:00+00:00

Someone Else's Pain

Barney Thomson and Harlequin Sweetlips were having an enjoyable evening. Relaxed, amiable, no pressure. Almost as if there'd been a silent agreement between them not to worry about any events currently taking place, not to concern themselves with anything that had gone on in the past. A couple like any other. As they sat at dinner, they could've been an advert pair, doing a spot for indigestion tablets or any women's product you care to mention. Have Your Period And Eat Five Spice Peking Duck At The Same Time, With The All-New Ultra-Slim Limited Edition Capacity All-Evening Panty Liner. It Makes Sense, Because So Do You.

And there seemed to be no pressure about what would come after. No sexual tension in the air, no unspoken intangible about murder. They chatted amiably about the advertising business and the people you met who worked in advertising and the ridiculous concepts they created. They laughed, they talked, Barney did not feel threatened. He only thought about Daniella Monk eighty or ninety times, which isn't so much in the space of three hours.

And when the jasmine tea was done and dusted, they nodded to one another, walked down the stairs and back out into a wet, bustling London evening.

***

Daniella Monk leaned against the railings of St Giles-in-the-Field and looked up at the spire, the falling rain illuminated by the church spotlights. Despite the presence of seventeen police officers, and most of the area being sealed off, there were still a couple of guys shooting up in the grounds of the church; comfortable in the knowledge that they were unlikely to be interrupted by CID investigating a triple murder, with two of their own dead.

Monk had finally been able to leave the office at a little after seven, and had been able to spend a rare half hour at home – most of which time she'd spent contemplating calling Barney Thomson and managing to stop herself – before the phone rang. It hadn't been Barney, as she'd hoped it would be, and she'd been summoned to the latest murder scene.

She had spent the entire afternoon trying to locate Margie Crane. A lot of enquiries made, but no progress whatsoever.

Footsteps behind her and she was able for a short time to take her mind off Barney Thomson. Didn't turn, waited for Frankenstein to come alongside.

'They were good lads,' he said, resting his arms on the top of the railing, looking directly at the two middle-aged junkies and that day's dose.

'Yeah,' she said, immediately feeling guilty that she'd hardly given DCs Jobe and Knights a second thought. Hadn't met either of them before. Wondered if Frankenstein had, for all his good lads remark.

'Jobe had a kid. Three months,' said Frankenstein.

Monk closed her eyes, swallowed. Saw the baby sleeping soundly, the mother looking over the edge of the cot, tears in her eyes, breaking up. Was the joy ever worth the potential pain of all the things that could go wrong? Started to think about children, a weird broodiness, became aware that her thoughts always turned back to herself.

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