The Bleeding Heart by Christopher Fowler

Author:Christopher Fowler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: For the Benefit of Mr. Kite
Published: 2013-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

23

The Headsman

As shoppers dragged themselves back and forth to the depressing Tesco supermarket on the corner, few ever looked up at the building on Caledonian Road. If they did they would have seen a short, balding man in a rumpled grey suit with his back to the window. Of those who looked, none would have thought that the people in the room were, in their own odd ways, attempting to prevent the streets of London from descending into anarchy and chaos.

Of course, Raymond Land was an uninspiring figurehead from any angle. “Ah, you’re back,” he exclaimed, slapping his hands together with sour delight. “So kind of you to grace us with your presence. And it’s only Thursday.”

“Don’t try to be funny, Raymondo. I’ve been working, as you well know,” said Bryant, pulling off his ancient trilby and leaving behind a frightened tonsure of white hair. Half a dozen mewling kittens followed in his wake. They appeared to have adopted Bryant as a parental figure.

“What, no snappy comeback today? After abandoning your post and leaving your partner to struggle on with an investigation that has stalled so badly that I can find nothing at all to report back on? What on earth have you been doing?”

Bryant picked up one of the kittens and scuffed it behind the ears. “Exactly what you wanted me to do,” he replied. “I’ve been staying out of the way, keeping my nose clean and trying not to bring the unit into disrepute.”

“Well, can you stop doing so?” Land demanded. “It’s getting on my nerves. I keep looking around half expecting to see you emptying your pipe into my plant pot or breaking the photocopier. Instead, everyone’s just getting on with their work and nothing’s getting resolved. It’s most disconcerting. We’re about to be removed from the case, and I don’t think it’s very likely that we’ll be given anything else.”

“That should make you happy, surely. You’ll be pensioned off to the Orkneys and you’ll finally get some peace and quiet.”

“I don’t want to be pensioned off,” said Land gloomily. “Leanne isn’t coming back. She won’t even speak to me. The divorce is going ahead. I go home to a silent house and piles of unlaundered shirts.” He pulled at his frayed cuff. “Look at this. I can’t figure out how to work the washing machine. It seems to have hundreds of different settings, and the instruction book is in Swedish. I’ve run out of pants. I need some stability in my life. Without the PCU I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Well, thank you for sharing that, but your pants are not my concern,” said Bryant. “Am I to take it that you’re allowing me back?”

“Yes. Oh yes.” Land practically fell on his knees.

“And I can run things as I see fit?”

“Do whatever you have to do, you can even keep your eyeball collection in the staff fridge, just give me something I can use.”

“Very well,” said Bryant. “I shall put the kettle on, absorb a pipeful of Old Nautical Rough Cut Navy Shag and play my Gilbert and Sullivan records.

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