Scaredy Cat by Mark Billingham Read Free Book Online Page A

drawn.
    Candles by the bed, for Christ's sake...
    Jan said later that she never understood why Thorne hadn't hit him. He never told her. Even as the scrawny bastard had leaped from the bed, his cock flapping, scrabbling for his glasses, Thorne knew that he wasn't going to hurt him. As he let the pain wash over him, he knew that, reeling and raw as he was, he couldn't bear to hear her scream, see the flash of hatred in her eyes, watch her rushing to comfort the little smartarse as he sat slumped against the wardrobe, moaning and trying to stop the blood.
    A few weeks later he'd waited outside the col ege and
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    fol owed him. Into shops. Chatting with students on the street. Home to a smal flat in Islington with multicoloured bicycles chained up outside and posters in the window.
    That had been enough for him. That simple knowing. You're mine if l ever decide to come and get you.
    But after a while even that seemed shameful. He'd let it go. Now it was the stuff of late nights and red wine and singers with dark, dangerous voices.
    Yes, he'd brought the job home - especial y after Calvert, when things had slipped away from him for a time - but they'd got married far too young. That was al , real y. Perhaps if they'd had kids...
    Thorne scanned the TV pages of the Standard. Tuesday night and bugger al on. Even worse, Sky had shown the Spurs-Bradford game at eight o'clock. He'd forgotten al about it. At home against Bradford - should be three points in the bag. Teletext, the footbal fan's best friend, gave him the bad news.
    She was slumped, her back against his legs, buttocks pressing down on her heels and knuckles lying against the polished wooden floorboards. He stood behind her, both hands on the back of her neck, readying himself. He glanced around the room. Everything was in place. The equipment laid out within easy .reach.
    Her mouth fel open and a wet gurgling noise came out. He tightened his grip, ever so slightly, on her neck. There was real y no point in trying to talk and, besides, he'd heard quite enough from her already.
    An hour and a half earlier, he'd watched as the group of girls had begun to thin out. A couple had wandered off towards the tube and a couple more to the bus stop. One SLEEPYHEAD 51
    tottered off down the Hol oway Road. Local, he guessed. Perhaps she'd like to join him for a drink.
    He'd taken a left turn and driven the car round the block, emerging on to the main road twenty yards or so ahead of her: He'd waited at the junction until she was a few feet away then got out of the car.
    'Excuse me... sorry.., but I seem to be horribly lost.' Slurring the words ever so slightly. Just the right side of pissed. And so wel -spoken.
    'Where are you trying to get to?'
    Wary. Quite right too. But nothing to worry about here. Just a tipsy hooray lost on the wrong side of the Archway roundabout. Taking off his glasses, looking like he's having trouble focusing...
    'ttampstead... sorry.., had a bit too much... Shouldn't be driving, tel you the truth.'
    'That's OK, mate. Hammered meself as it goes...' 'Been clubbing?'
    'No, just in the pub - mate's birthday.., real y bril iant.'
    Good. He was glad she was happy. Al the more to want to live for. So...
    'I don't suppose you fancy a nightcap?' Reaching
    through the car window and producing it with a flourish. 'Blimey, what are you celebrating?'
    Christ, what was it with these gifts and a bottle of fizz? Like a hypnotist's gold watch.
    Just pinched it from a party.' Then the giggle. 'One for the road?'
    About half an hour. Thirty minutes of meaningless semi-literate yammering until she'd started to go. She was ful of herself. Nita's boyfriend... Linzi's problems at work.., a couple of dirty jokes. He'd smiled and nodded
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    and laughed, and tried to imagine how he could possibly have been less interested. Then the nodding-dog head and the sitcom slurring, and it was time for the innocuouslooking man to tip his paralytic girlfriend