Midnight Fugue by Reginald Hill Read Free Book Online

keep forgetting you didn’t actually speak to Mick. I should have told you right away. There’s another reason I need to get a presumption of death. Mick and I are going to be married.’
     
    08.55–09.05
     
    Vince Delay watched Tubby stand up then sit down again and start talking to Blondie.
    Briefly he had a full-frontal view of the fat guy and now he dropped his eyes to compare what he’d seen with a photograph he was holding in his hymn book. It was a full-length shot of a man lounging against a tree, thirtyish, blond hair ruffled by a breeze, with the slightly mocking half-smile of a guy who knows what he wants and has no doubts about his ability to get it.
    The only time Vince had seen him in the flesh, trouble had wiped that smile from his face but otherwise he’d looked the same.
    Fleur had said, stick to Blondie and she’ll lead us to him, and this is where she’d led.
    He let his gaze drift from the photo to the bulky figure sitting close to the tart. Question was, could anything have changed this to
that
in seven years?
    Didn’t seem likely.
    Pity, he thought. Would have been nice if things had turned out so easy. Not that it bothered him. Not his responsibility, not since Fleur took him in hand. Would have been nice for Fleur though. Or maybe not. Fleur was clever and for some reason clever people often seemed to prefer things a bit complicated. Himself, he’d have been delighted if it had been Tubby. Whack! And then back down the motorway, leaving this northern dump to fall to pieces in its own time.
    One thing was sure: whoever Tubby was, all that praying, he had some heavy stuff on his mind. And now it looked like Blondie was laying some more on him. This surveillance stuff was real boring.
    Couldn’t even light up. Not many places you could these days. No laws to stop the bastards lighting candles though. Back in the car he guessed Fleur would be on her second or third ciggie by now, probably having a coffee from the flask. Maybe a little nip in it. No, scrub that. Not Fleur. On a job you had rules and you stuck to them. You look after the rules and the rules would look after you, she was fond of saying. And if she caught you breaking the rules —
her
rules — then retribution was instant and unpleasant.
    Though sending him to do the tailing was breaking the rules, wasn’t it?
    Maybe it meant she’d decided he wasn’t just muscle, he could think for himself.
    The idea was both flattering and disturbing. It suggested a change in their relationship and he didn’t like change.
    She’d laid down the terms pretty categorically in the prison visiting room as his last and longest stretch came within sight of the end. He’d served them years the hard way and he’d got respect, but at a price. Fleur was the only person he could share his horror with at the prospect of going back inside. In another sort of man this admission might have been linked to a resolve to go straight. Delay’s resolve was different.
    ‘I’ll top myself first,’ he said.
    Fleur had given him the look that since she was nine had reversed the three years between them and made him feel like her kid brother.
    ‘Don’t talk stupid, Vince,’ she’d said brusquely. ‘Now, where are you going when you get out?’
    He looked at her, puzzled, and said, ‘Thought I’d come home to start with…’
    ‘Home’s gone, Vince. I’ve got my own place now. You’re welcome to come and live with me, but there’s rules. You do things my way, in or out of the flat. Break the rules, and you’re on your own. For good. What do you say? Yes or no?’
    ‘Well, sounds all right, sis, but a guy’s got to have a bit of choice, know what I mean…’
    ‘Yes or no, Vince. That’s one of the rules. I ask yes or no, you answer yes or no.’
    ‘OK, keep your hair on. I mean yes.’
    ‘Something else. I think I can get you a job.’
    ‘You mean, like… a job?’ he said, horrified.
    She shook her head. She knew her limitations.
    ‘I mean