Death Message by Mark Billingham

Author:Mark Billingham
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Published: 2007-07-04T16:00:00+00:00

With no further news of any sort, Thorne was tense and jumpy by the end of the day. Unaware of quite how much he needed a drink until it was suggested. He happily joined Stone, Holland and Karim on their way across to The Oak, but when Kitson caught up with him in the pub’s car park he let the others go on ahead.

‘Where’ve you been all day?’ she asked.

‘Trying to stay invisible,’ Thorne said. ‘Why are you so horribly full of yourself?’

‘My mystery woman called again.’

‘Told you she would.’

‘And she’s not a mystery any more . . .’

‘Go on then.’

‘Harika Kemal.’

Thorne took a second. ‘Sedat’s girlfriend ? The one who was in the toilet?’ Kitson nodded. Thorne twisted his face into a parody of confusion.

‘Fuck knows,’ Kitson said. ‘I’m bringing her in for a chat tomorrow and we’ll find out.’

‘Sounds like something to celebrate, though.’

‘God, yes.’ They walked towards the entrance. ‘What about you?’

‘Let’s stick with good news . . .’

Inside, The Oak was busy for a midweek evening with the noisiest and smokiest pockets indicating the presence of the men and women from the Peel Centre and Colindale, the majority of the pub’s regular clientele. The ‘traditional’ atmosphere and drab decor had remained unchanged for as long as Thorne could remember, thanks to a landlord who now understood that his customers’ tastes did not run far beyond beer and simple pub grub. He had occasionally tried to ring the changes, but usually with little success. A quiz night had ended in a brawl. Two weeks earlier there had been a karaoke evening in the back bar, but two rat-arsed constables caterwauling their way through ‘I Fought the Law’ had forced several of the most hardened drinkers to make an early night of it.

Thorne and Kitson got in their drinks and joined Holland and the others. They congratulated Kitson on the break in her case, wished her luck with her interview, but nobody raised a glass just yet. That would have to wait until she’d made an arrest.

‘What’s it been, then?’ Kitson said. ‘Four, five days, since the last message from Brooks?’

Thorne took a healthy gulp of beer. ‘Five. The Skinner clip.’

‘That might be the lot. He’s got a couple of the bikers, a copper he thinks is responsible for fitting him up. Maybe he’s called it a day.’

‘Maybe . . .’

‘How much revenge can anyone want?’

‘Depends how much they’ve suffered.’

‘It’s not going to bring back his girlfriend, is it? Or his kid.’

‘Imagine they were your kids,’ Thorne said.

When Brigstocke arrived, the group shuffled around the table to make room, and began to let off steam. They joked about a recent court case which had seen a man prosecuted, having taken payment from a mentally disturbed woman in return for promising to kill her, and then failing to honour the contract.

Karim said it was a waste of money, that somebody in the CPS needed shooting. Stone wondered, while they were on the subject, how much it was costing to play nursemaid to a bunch of ‘hairy-arsed drug dealers’.

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