Deadlight by Graham Hurley Read Free Book Online Page B

then?’
    ‘That’s right.’ Rooke frowned. ‘What’s the point in nicking crisps and biscuits? Just makes you fat.’
    ‘What about booze?’
    ‘Goes straight down their throats. These kids are off the fucking planet most of the time.’
    ‘OK.’ Winter leaned forward. ‘So what does all this tell me about Darren Geech?’
    For the first time, Rooke ground to a halt. He had the strangest eyes, almost jet black, and Winter – sensing his reluctance to go much further – decided to give him a prod. In these situations, it often paid to bluff your way to the truth.
    ‘He’s muscling in, isn’t he, young Darren? He wants a slice of that nice pie of yours.’
    ‘What makes you think that?’
    ‘Because otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Geech knows what you’re up to. He’s watched you for months, years. He knows who you flog the stuff to, how much it’s worth, and he’s worked out a way of cutting you out. Maybe he’s into special offers. And maybe he knows more people than you.’
    ‘No chance.’
    ‘More young people? More fifteen-year-olds? Fourteen-year-olds? Kids still in primary school? You’d have a problem with them, Rookie. No offence, mate, but the paedo register was made for people like you. Just imagine. It’s bad enough having your kids skagging up at night. Think what it would be like if their mums sussed they were renting their arses out as well. Doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, does it? It’s a hard world, mate. Just the thought’s enough. Plus a word or two from the likes of Darren.’
    Winter beamed up at the girl behind the bar. Time foranother pint. By the time he got back, Rooke was looking madder than ever.
    ‘That’s crap,’ he said. ‘I’m no paedo.’
    ‘I never said you were. I’m just wondering what other people might think.’
    ‘Well fuck knows why. You’re talking bollocks. Where does all this paedo drivel come from?’
    ‘Doesn’t matter, my friend. Just let me tell you about Bazza.’
    Just the name was enough. Rooke tried to struggle to his feet. Winter laughed, then pulled him back.
    ‘Listen,’ he said. ‘Bazza’s a businessman, right? Businessmen look for bigger and bigger markets and just now you’re way off the fucking pace. Especially when young Darren’s whispering in his ear.’
    ‘Darren’s a kid. Bazza doesn’t deal through kids.’
    ‘What makes you think that? Bazza would deal through babies if there was money in it.’
    ‘That’s bollocks, too. You don’t know the bloke.’
    ‘No?’ Winter extended a hand. ‘Twenty quid says Darren Geech is trying to deal off Bazza. Another twenty says Bazza’s definitely interested. And a tenner on top says you’re trying to stop him. That’s fifty. Shake on it?’
    Rooke ignored the proffered hand. He’d come to mark Winter’s card about Darren Geech. That was what they’d agreed and in his view the evening had come to an end. Time to go, pal. Bet or no bet.
    ‘But you’ve told me fuck all,’ Winter protested.
    ‘I’ve told you he’s doing them corner shops. And I’ve told you he’s the little cunt that organises it all.’
    ‘I knew that already. I even know his address. Just like you do.’
    ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
    ‘Nothing, my friend. Except his mother’s been scoring off you for years. Is it cash in hand? Or some other arrangement? I know she’s a dog, Shelley Geech, but better than nothing, eh?’
    This time Rooke was serious about leaving. Only Winter’s iron grasp kept him seated. He leaned towards Rooke’s ear, two old friends sharing a mutual confidence.
    ‘I’m going to turn over young Darren’s place tomorrow,’ Winter murmured. ‘And I need to know where to look. Charlie would be good. Or even smack.’
    There was a long silence. Slowly, Winter released his grip. Over in the far corner of the bar, a punch line raised a laugh. Rooke glanced at Winter, then looked quickly away.
    ‘There’s a wardrobe in his bedroom.’ He swallowed hard.