Dead Beat by Val McDermid Read Free Book Online Page B

her. She crashed at my feet, and I felt the last of the day’s tensions flow out of me.
    It was a burglar who got me into Thai boxing three years ago. Dennis O’Brien is what I like to think of as an honest villain. Although he feeds and clothes his wife and kids with the proceeds of other people’s hard work, he’s got his own rigid moral code that he adheres to more firmly than most of the supposedly honest citizens I know. Dennis would never rob an old lady, never use shooters, and he only steals from people he thinks can afford to be robbed. He never indulges in mindless vandalism, and always tries to leave houses as tidy as possible. He’d never grass a mate, and the one thing he hates more than anything else is a bent copper. After all, if you can’t trust the police, who can you trust?
    I’d been having a drink with Dennis one evening, asking his advice about an office I needed to have a quiet little look round. In return, I was answering his questions about how I work. He’d been outraged when I’d revealed I had no self-defense skills.
    “You want your head mending,” he exploded. “There’s a lot of very naughty people out there. They’re not all like me, you know. Plenty of villains don’t think twice about hitting a woman.”
    I’d laughed and said, “Dennis, I deal in white-collar crime. The
    He’d interrupted, saying, “Bollocks, Kate. Never mind work, living where you live, you need martial arts. I wouldn’t bring the milk off the doorstep in your street without a black belt. Tell you what, you meet me tomorrow night and I’ll have you sorted in no time.”
    “Sorted” meant taking me to the club where his own teenage daughter was junior Thai boxing champion. I’d had a good look around, decided that the showers and the changing rooms were places where I’d be prepared to take my clothes off, and signed up there and then. I’ve never regretted it. It keeps me fit and gives me confidence when I’m up against the wall. And time has shown that just because a man has a fifty grand salary and a company Scorpio it doesn’t mean he won’t resort to violence when he’s cornered. As long as the British government never takes us down the criminally insane road of the USA, where every two-bit mugger totes a gun, I guess it’s all I’ll need to keep me alive.
    Tonight, I’d got what I came for. As I showered afterwards, my whole body felt loose and relaxed. I knew I could go home and listen sympathetically to Richard without biting his head off. And I knew that in the morning I’d be raring to go on the trail of Billy Smart and Moira Pollock.
    I got home just after nine with a carrier bag bursting with goodies from the Leen Hong in Chinatown. I let myself into Richard’s house via the conservatory and found him sprawled on the sofa watching
A Fish Called Wanda
for what must have been the sixth time, a tall glass of Southern Comfort and soda beside him on the floor. Judging by the ashtray, he’d smoked a joint in tribute to each time he’d seen the movie. On the other hand, maybe he just hadn’t emptied it for a week.
    “Hi, Brannigan,” he greeted me without moving. “Is the world still out there?”
    “The important bits of it are in here,” I reported, waving the bag in the air. “Fancy some salt and pepper ribs?”
    That got a reaction. It’s depressing to think that a Chinese takeaway provokes more excitement in my lover than my arrival. Richard jumped off the sofa and hugged me. “What a woman,” he exclaimed. “You really know what to give a man when he’s down.”
    He let me go and seized the bag from my hand. I went to his kitchen for some plates, but as soon as I looked in and saw the mound of dirty dishes in the sink, I gave up the idea. How Richard can live like this is beyond me, but I’ve learned the hard way that his priorities are different from mine. A dishwasher is never going to win a contest with an Armani suit. And I refuse to fall into the trap of