The Bones Beneath by Mark Billingham Read Free Book Online

appearance, flabby and jaundiced. Now, it looked as though he had gained a lot more weight, lost even more colour, so that in places his skin appeared more blue than white; almost translucent. His eyes had sunk further into his face. His nose and the corners of his mouth were dotted with whiteheads and his teeth – many of them false, thanks to Thorne – were discoloured in places and had begun to look too big for his mouth. He was wearing a black beanie hat, but Thorne knew that beneath it, his head was bald and pitted. Thorne remembered a series of irregular, purplish lesions, like wine stains on the scalp.
    As they approached the entrance to the toilets, Nicklin stopped, and turned. ‘It’s only a slash, lads,’ he announced. ‘So I won’t be keeping you too long. You should be thankful it wasn’t the chicken curry for dinner last night.’
    Nicklin’s physical appearance was easily explained of course. Poor diet, far too many cigarettes, a lack of exercise; a life spent without fresh air. Thorne could not shake the idea though that these changes were in some strange way deliberate. He had radically altered his appearance before when it had suited him and now it felt somehow as though he were revelling in his ability to do so again. Displaying his refusal to be the man
or
the monster that anyone expected.
    Fletcher and Karim waited outside with Nicklin, while Thorne gave the toilets the once-over. He ignored the looks from those going about their business as he checked unlocked cubicles and banged on the doors of those that were occupied. Once the facilities were empty, Fletcher brought Nicklin in. Karim waited outside, flashing his warrant card to prevent anyone else entering.
    Thorne and Fletcher stood and watched Nicklin at the urinal.
    ‘First piss in a while where I’m not worrying about getting shanked,’ he said.
    ‘Rubbish,’ Fletcher said. He rolled his head round on his thick neck. ‘Since when did you have to worry about anything like that?’
    ‘Fair point, I suppose, boss.’
    ‘It’s everyone else does the worrying.’
    Thorne knew what Fletcher was talking about. With his reputation as the prison’s ‘top nutter’ and an unmatched capacity for instilling fear, Nicklin pretty much ran things in Long Lartin. These days there would be plenty to do the messy work for him, should it become necessary. Thorne guessed though that he was still capable of dishing it out himself, should the fancy take him. He remembered a prisoner in Belmarsh to whom Nicklin had taken a dislike while still on remand; a man left brain dead after a sharpened spoon had been calmly but forcefully inserted into his ear.
    ‘I was just making a general point,’ Nicklin said. He shook himself off and turned from the urinal, looking at Thorne while he zipped himself up. ‘It feels nice, that’s all I’m saying. Certainly doesn’t smell quite as bad.’ He walked towards the sink, taking in the surroundings as though it were the swankiest of hotel rooms. He chuckled and said, ‘I don’t suppose either of you feels like lending me a couple of quid for the condom machine?’
    He washed and rinsed his hands twice. He took his time at the automatic dryer.
    On the way out, Nicklin slowed and cast a longing glance towards the shop. ‘Chocolate would be nice.’
    ‘Would it?’ Thorne said.
    Nicklin smiled. He and Thorne both knew that chocolate was his weakness. DNA found on a discarded chocolate wrapper had been used in evidence at his trial. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘You telling me you haven’t got a sweetie budget?’
    Thorne looked to Fletcher. The shrug suggested that the officer had no opinion either way or that perhaps Nicklin was not alone in fancying a Mars bar. As it happened, Thorne was suddenly more than a little peckish himself. He gave Karim five pounds and sent him into WH Smith to grab a selection of chocolate bars, while he and Fletcher led Nicklin out.
    ‘Thanks,’ Nicklin said. They stopped just