TT13 Time of Death by Mark Billingham Read Free Book Online Page A

arse than usual.’
    ‘Haven’t you got the army helping out as well?’ Thorne had read about it in the paper. ‘In the flooded areas, I mean.’
    ‘Yeah, but they can’t handle some of the extra crime that we’ve got to sort out.’ He saw the confusion on Thorne’s face. ‘Not the girls … we’ve got looting from some of the abandoned properties. Scumbags driving down from Ashby and Burton-on-Trent in four-by-fours. Obviously the missing girls are our main concern, but somebody’s got to deal with that.’
    ‘You think that’s where they are?’ Thorne asked. ‘In the river?’ There was no need to go around the houses. Both men had dealt with enough cases like this one. Whatever might be said publicly, both presumed that Poppy Johnston and Jessica Toms were already dead.
    ‘Be the obvious thing,’ Cornish said. ‘It’s flowing so fast in some places, they’d be gone like that.’ He clicked his fingers and sat back. ‘In terms of getting rid of bodies, weather like this is pretty useful.’
    ‘You would have thought one of them might have turned up by now though,’ Thorne said. ‘Even if it’s fifty miles away.’
    Cornish looked at him, rolled his e-cig between thumb and first finger. ‘You would have thought.’
    ‘So, what’s Bates saying?’ Interesting as it was to learn about e-cigarettes and the logistic headaches that went with searching in bad weather, this was what Thorne had come to find out.
    Cornish would have known that too, but appeared to have little problem with it. ‘He’s given us a written statement,’ he said.
    ‘Saying?’
    ‘Saying he picked Poppy up when she was heading to Tamworth on a night out and took her as far as the bus stop three miles out of town. About half past six, he reckons, though he can’t be sure. We’ve checked and the bus she would have been waiting for stopped there at six forty-seven. She wasn’t there to get on it. So, he doesn’t deny picking her up … well, he can’t really, there were too many people saw him do it. He wasn’t exactly hard to find.’
    ‘Why was she going to Tamworth?’
    ‘She was going to a bar. Meeting a boy.’
    ‘Really?’ Husbands, wives, lovers; always people worth looking at.
    ‘It wasn’t a serious thing, not according to any of her mates. Just someone she’d got off with a couple of times.’
    ‘He’s in the clear, I take it.’
    Cornish nodded. ‘He waited for her, then went to the bar anyway. Plenty of people can verify he was there all night. So, that leaves Mr Bates, right at the top of a list of one.’
    ‘What about the first girl?’
    ‘Says he never picked her up, so we’re obviously keen on finding something in his crappy little car. A spot of blood, a strand of the girl’s hair, whatever. They’re pulling out the stops, top priority, all that, so I’m hoping to get some good news later tonight or first thing in the morning.’ He hit the e-cig again. ‘I get that, I’m charging him.’
    ‘If not?’
    ‘I’m probably charging him anyway. We’ve got enough.’
    ‘Sounds about right.’ Thorne saw Cornish glance at his watch. ‘Listen, I’ll get out of your way …’
    ‘Bloody nasty,’ Cornish said. He puffed out his cheeks. ‘That business on the island.’
    Thorne took a second or two to respond, tried not to look quite as taken unaware as he was. ‘Oh, yeah.’
    ‘Seriously. You OK?’
    The physical injuries Thorne had sustained on Bardsey Island were not life-threatening. A patch-up at a local hospital and a couple of sessions in the dentist’s chair had been all that was needed. He knew Cornish was not talking about that.
    He stood up, blinked away an unwelcome image. ‘I’m fine,’ he said.
    ‘Glad to hear it.’ Cornish stood up too.
    ‘I like your suit,’ Thorne said, keen to take the conversation elsewhere.
    Cornish glanced down, as if he’d been unaware he was wearing it. He nodded and pointed at Thorne, the e-cigarette still held between his fingers.