Calibre by Bruen Ken

Author:Bruen, Ken [Bruen, Ken]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780312341442
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2010-04-01T06:00:00+00:00

Brant had considered telling Roberts about his lead, but hey, he had the car-ring going and good results from that. Porter needed the gig, so he called him and they met at Clapham Common. Mandy’s place was near The Clapham Arms. Porter arrived wearing a black leather jacket, black pants. Brant was wearing his Driza-Bone. He had the Aussie hat but couldn’t quite bring himself to wear it. He said:

‘You look like a lethal priest.’

Porter didn’t think this was flattery but let it slide, and Brant filled him in on Caz’s story. Porter asked:

‘What do you think?’

‘Let’s go see. He usually is on the money’

The building was freshly painted and they rang the intercom, got buzzed in. Porter said:

‘Not very security conscious is she? I mean she just let us in.’

Brant gave him the look, said:

‘She’s a hooker, what do you expect?’

Her door was open and she was waiting, dressed to impress. Mini-skirt and off-the-shoulder flimsy top, her hip cocked. Brant thought:

Man, this is one ugly cow.

In her late twenties, Mandy was showing a lot of mileage, the eyes verging on fifty years and up. Her skin was bad and her face was too long, she didn’t have a feature you could appreciate. She said:

‘You got ID?’

They showed the warrant cards, and she invited them in. The flat was neat if cheap, lots of very bad paintings on the walls and well-worn furniture. She asked:

‘Get you guys a drink?’

She was relaxed, either she was used to cops, which came with the territory, or she was on something. They sat and Brant said:

‘You have some information on the “Manners” guy’

She smiled, sat, letting her skirt hike up. Porter she pegged as gay, but the other, the brutish one, he took an eyeful. She’d address him:

‘So, you sure I can’t get you something?’

She wet her lower lip, this usually got the Johns hot. Brant was staring, thinking she really was one ugly broad and did he detect an Irish accent? Asked:

You Irish?’

This delighted her, and she knew she’d selected the right cop to focus on, answered:

‘Would you like me to be, you like the colleens?’

Porter felt his patience going, snapped:

‘You have some information or not?’

She glared at him then back to Brant, said:

‘This punter, I’ve been doing him for three years, twice a week. He thinks we’re dating. I read this journal he keeps, fancy leather book, it said in there that he killed people.’

Porter felt his spirits rise, wondered if they could be that lucky, prompted:

‘And?’

She looked at him as if he was dense, said:

‘ “And!” I got the fuck out of there. If he’s killing people, I’m not hanging around. Anyway, he woke up.’

Brant felt his excitement take a dive, asked:

‘He knows you read the journal?’

She looked nervous, as if she’d messed up, then:

‘I don’t know for sure, but I got out of there, and he’s been ringing me like all the time. So I told Caz. He said I might get a reward.’

Porter tried to curb his anxiety, said:

‘Tell

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