The Travelling Companion by Ian Rankin Read Free Book Online

again.” And when I didn’t, she just nodded slowly, as if a small lump of dope explained everything. She clasped me by one wrist. “Come upstairs. We need to wash that clean.”
    I resisted long enough to finish the cigarette, then allowed myself to be led up a dark twisting stairwell to her room. It was tiny and stifling, the window open and shutters closed in a vain attempt to keep out the afternoon heat. Charlotte’s rucksack lay on the bed. She moved it and made me sit down, there being no chair. Then she knelt in front of me, examining the damage.
    â€œIt’s deep,” she said. There was a thin towel on the end of the bed and she took it with her when she left the room. I could hear water running in the sink of the communal bathroom along the hall. Then she was back, dabbing and wiping.
    â€œAny nausea?” she asked.
    â€œNo more than usual.”
    She smiled as if I’d made a joke. “You’re being very brave,” she cooed.
    â€œI’m tougher than you think.”
    â€œI’m sure you are.” She made another trip to the bathroom to rinse the towel. This time she wiped it slowly across all of my face, studying my features as she worked. “You’re filthy, Ronald. Really you need a bath.”
    â€œWill you scrub my back?”
    â€œI might.” Her eyes were locked on mine. I leaned forwards and kissed her on the mouth.
    â€œYou’re bristly,” she said afterwards. “But I sort of like it.”
    So I kissed her again. Then we were standing, arms wrapped around one another. My hands felt beneath her sweat-dampened blouse, running down her spine. Our mouths opened as our tongues got to work, and she gave a small moan. Her fingers brushed the front of my trousers, then started to work at the zip. My eyes were still open but hers were closed, as she concentrated hard on fulfilling the whole purpose of the trip. So greedy and so intent on her own selfish self. I put my hand on hers, squeezing. She opened her eyes.
    â€œI’m going to take that bath,” I said.
    â€œGood idea,” she replied, sounding only half-convinced. “There’s only the one towel though, and it’s already wet.”
    â€œI’ll be fine.” I gave a smile and a wink and managed to escape the airless room. The bath was old and stained but hot water gushed from its tap. I locked the door before stripping. There were bruises on my body I was at a loss to explain. Piled on the floor, my clothes looked like rags. I sank into the water and slid beneath its surface. I had been soaking only a couple of minutes when Charlotte tried the door.
    â€œI won’t be long,” I called out.
    â€œI thought you wanted someone to scrub your back.”
    â€œAnother time.”
    I could sense her lingering. But she moved away eventually, her bedroom door closing. I was debating my next move. Get dressed and slink away? Would that make me a coward? No, I would talk to her face-to-face and explain everything. I would tell her about Benjamin Turk and Alice and my newly blossoming life. We would part as friends, and I would then pay a visit to Harry and Mike, where both men would learn what happened to people who crossed me.
    â€œYes,” I said to the bathroom walls, nodding slowly to myself.
    And then I closed my eyes and slid below the waterline again.
    The water had turned tepid by the time I climbed out. I used the towel as best I could, and slid back into my clinging clothes. Blood still trickled from the cut, so I held the towel as a compress as I unlocked the door and padded down the hall. The door to Charlotte’s room stood gaping. Charlotte herself lay on the bed, half-undressed and with a scarf knotted tightly around her neck, digging into the flesh. Her eyes and tongue bulged, her face almost purple. I knew she was dead, and knew, too, the identity of the culprit. She had unpacked one dress from her rucksack, the one almost