The Jonah by James Herbert Read Free Book Online

black-stained tooth spoiling what could otherwise have been a handsome face. ‘Like screwin.’
    He laughed aloud and Kelso forced himself to join in. ‘You can even have too much of that,’ he said.
    ‘I can’t. Can’t get enough.’ Once more Trewick laughed aloud, but the sound died quickly when the swing-doors opened. Kelso saw the apprehension in the bearded
man’s eyes just before it vanished as two giggling girls entered the pub.
    ‘No, in London there’s other things you can get into, know what I mean?’
    ‘Ah, fuck London. You think you’ve got it all down there, but you’d be surprised, boy. There’s a lot going on aroun here.’
    Kelso felt close to something, but decided not to push his luck. It was always a tricky time, knowing just when to press further or back off. ‘Any time you fancy showing me, I’ll be
around. I’ve got a lot of work to do yet.’
    ‘Watchin birds. Funny kind of job for a bloke.’
    ‘Yeah, I think that myself sometimes. Beats working for a living, though.’ Kelso grinned, but there was no amusement on Trewick’s face. Instead there was a trace of
hostility.
    Oh shit, Kelso thought, I’m messing this one up.
    ‘What kind of money d’you get for doin that sort of stuff?’ Trewick asked.
    ‘Not much. Enough to get by on.’
    ‘About how much?’
    Kelso cleared hs throat, then sipped his drink. Trewick waited, his eyes not leaving the detective’s face.
    ‘Er, about three hundred to begin with, then a percentage of the royalties on the book if it comes out.’
    Trewick scoffed and sat back against the wall. ‘Three hundred? That wouldn’t keep me in baccy papers, boy. I need . . .’ Once more his head swung towards the swing-doors as
they opened. This time the alarm stayed in his eyes as a figure entered.
    Kelso glanced towards the entrance as he raised his glass to his lips. If the man who had entered knew Trewick, he did not show it; he strolled towards the bar, pushing his way through the crowd
without looking left or right.
    The bearded man’s eyes followed him.
    ‘You all right?’
    Trewick didn’t seem to hear. He slowly reached for his beer and took a long, deep, swallow. Then he looked at Kelso. ‘What?’
    ‘I said are you all right? You look a bit pale.’
    ‘Yeah, yeah, I’m all right. Got to get goin, that’s all.’
    ‘Another party?’
    ‘No. Got to make an early start tomorrow. Need some kip.’
    ‘Do you want another beer before you go?’
    ‘No. It’s my turn anyway. I’ll get you one next time.’
    He slid out from the bench against the wall, buttoning his anorak as he did so. Without another word to Kelso, he pulled open one of the double-doors and stepped out into the cold night.
    Cheers, Kelso said silently, raising his glass in mock salute. He moved around into the seat just vacated and casually looked towards the bar; the man who had seemed to unsettle Trewick was
standing alone, drinking what looked like gin or vodka. For an instant, their eyes met, but the man turned his head as though studying the crowd in general. His hair was cut short, resting flatly
over his skull and his features had a hardness to them that had nothing to do with an open-air life. He wore a thigh-length leather jacket and as he raised his glass, Kelso noticed the little
finger of his right hand was missing.
    Kelso wondered if he were being overly suspicious, making too much of the man’s arrival. Maybe Trewick really did need his beauty sleep. The man at the bar was making no attempt to hurry
his drink and had now turned his back on Kelso. The detective waited to see if he would follow the bearded man.
    Ten minutes went by and Kelso decided he had been wrong. The man with the missing finger had ordered himself another drink and had joined in the conversation with a group of men at the bar. The
detective stifled a yawn, then drained his glass. He felt tired, the smoke haze inside the pub and the strong ale in his stomach a wearying