In the Dark by Mark Billingham Read Free Book Online Page B

bars with Belgian beer and Paddy MacFuckerty’s theme pubs, all that.’ He licked the ends of his fingers, spread out his arms. ‘ This is going to be as close as you can get to a proper old pub. A local. I told you on the phone it’s a restoration job, didn’t I? But it’s not just about restoring the features and what have you. It’s about an abiding faith in something. About restoring a bit of . . . what d’you call it . . .?’
    â€˜Community spirit?’
    He pointed. ‘Smack on. Plus, it’s a decent earner, tell you the truth. Half a dozen of these places, turn each of them round in a month or two, flog them back to the brewery. Can’t go wrong.’
    â€˜Still got the flats, though? I thought you had the contract to do up that block in Deptford.’
    â€˜Oh yeah, never busier.’ He leaned back on his chair, looked around. ‘Just had to take on a few more chippies, sparks, painters, whatever.’
    â€˜And . . . other business?’
    The man rubbed his hands against the sides of his jeans, sucked at something in his teeth. ‘Come on. Since when do we go there, Paul?’
    â€˜Only asking, mate.’
    The man picked up his smoothie bottle and held it close to his face with the label facing Paul. He smiled. ‘Until proven guilty, Paul. You know that.’
    Paul swept the discarded shells and inedible pieces of prawn into the plastic bag; dropped in the empty bottles. ‘You said you’d thought about it,’ he said. ‘What I was asking.’
    â€˜I did. I have.’
    â€˜So, what can you give me?’
    Clive was back loitering behind the bar. He was asked to take the rubbish away and keep himself busy.
    â€˜You’re not going to like it, Paul.’
    â€˜Why is this such a big deal? I’d’ve thought you’d be only too happy to give me some names. You’ve got no love for any of these bastards.’
    â€˜It’s not about love. It’s about honour.’
    â€˜You serious?’
    â€˜You’re asking me to grass.’ He held up a hand as Paul started to protest. ‘End of the day, that’s what it boils down to.’
    â€˜It’s a favour,’ Paul said.
    â€˜That’s never been how it worked with us.’ His face asked the question before his mouth did. ‘Has it?’
    Paul sat back, smoothing down the plastic sheeting with his palms, taking a breath. ‘What about some smaller stuff, then? Just bits and pieces.’
    â€˜Same thing applies.’
    â€˜I’ve got to give the brass something , for Christ’s sake. Let them think I’m still doing some work.’
    â€˜There are no gradations with this stuff.’
    â€˜Fine. I get it.’
    â€˜You can’t be a bit of a grass; same as you can’t be a bit pregnant. All you can be is a bit of a cunt.’ He waited until Paul looked up at him. ‘I’m sorry, but that’s how it is.’
    Paul nodded, but he’d stopped listening. He knew he wasn’t going to get what he wanted. He suddenly found himself thinking about Helen, about where she was going today.
    The door from the street banged open suddenly and a kid walked in; sixteen or thereabouts and out of it. He looked around, confused.
    â€˜Can you get a drink in here or what?’
    The man at the table turned towards the back room, but Clive was already on his way over to the door, shaking his head and waving his arms in front of him. ‘Sorry, mate, the place isn’t open yet.’
    The kid started shouting about how the door was open, asking if he could just use the toilets, then threatening all sorts as he was pushed back out onto the street.
    Clive threw the bolts top and bottom and turned back to his boss. ‘My fault. I never locked it after Mr Hopwood came in.’
    The apology’s acceptance was lost in the explosion of glass as the brick came through the window and the scream of chair