Scaredy Cat (17 page)

Bishop and those like him were not playing by the same rules. Thorne knew that if he was going to catch Jeremy Bishop he'd have precious little help. He knew that he had to take things careful y, a step at a time. Bethel was the first step, but after that he'd be making it up as he went along. Whatever this new game was, Bishop had a distinct advantage. Thorne was certain that the 'why' was important. The 'why' was probably crucial. But this was where he was up against it.

Thorne didn't give a shit abot 'why'.

When Bethel arrived back at the table Thorne stood up and started putting on his coat. 'Are we sorted, then?'

Bethel picked up his cigarettes. 'Yeah. No point me asking how soon you want these photos, is there?'

'Not real y, no.'

162 MARK BILLINGHAM

The laughter from behind them told Thorne that he real y should get out, straight away. Bethel was already

taking a step towards them.

'Something funny?'

The biggest of the four stood up and stared at Bethel through designer glasses. It was not an aggressive move so much as a reflexive one, but it didn't real y matter to Bethel . The thick finger he prodded into the man's chest must have felt like a battering ram. 'Something about how highly I speak of you, was it? Go on, tel me.' Square Glasses moved to swat away the finger; Short Hair moved to protect his friend and it went off.

As Bethel swung a fist bristling with signet rings into Square Glasses' face, Thorne stepped forward and backhanded his friend across the mouth. He fel backwards across the table, the expensive training shoes sending bottles and glasses flying in al directions. It was now two on two and al over very quickly. The third man reached for a large metal ashtray but Thorne was on him in a second, bringing his forehead down across the bridge of the man's nose as casual y as if he were bending to tie a shoelace.

It was only as the fourth man backed away in such a hurry as to knock a plate of vividly orange chicken tikka massala into a young woman's lap, that the screaming began in earnest. As the Australian barman hovered nervously, a fearsome-looking landlady with vanil a-coloured hair and a broken pool cue marched from behind the bar. 'Right. Cal the police.'

The barman pointed an accusing finger at Thorne. 'They're already here.'

Thorne rubbed his forehead and looked around. Three

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men lying, kneeling, crawling across a wooden floor glittering with broken glass, blood splashing on to designer combat trousers, the horrified yet excited faces of two dozen onlookers...

He guessed that it was not the right time to mention to the landlady that Hogarth would probably have approved.

Ten minutes later Thorne and Bethel were on the pavement outside the Garrick Club. The landlady had taken a bit of mol ifying and those with smashed teeth and shattered noses were predictably aggrieved until Thorne dropped the word 'cocaine' into the conversation and everything was hastily forgiven and forgotten.

Bethel placed an unwelcome hand on Ttiorne's shoulder. 'Thanks for that, Mr Thorne. Laying into those wankers, that was good of you.'

Thorne could feel the headache starting to kick in. 'I didn't do it for you.'

He stuck out an arm to hail a cab.

And it wasn't them I was laying into...

They waited for Alison's boyfriend to leave before they wheeled in the blackboard. Bishop thought that Anne was being a trifle over-sensitive. After al , she'd kept him wel appraised of Alison's progress, hadn't she? He'd hardly be expecting her to sit up and start singing.

Anne just wanted to wait a little before she got Tim involved. If al went wel then she'd want to bring him in. He'd need to work with Alison himself anyway. She just needed to know that the basic framework was right. Once they were up and running it would be second nature to al of them. She felt that not understanding exactly what her 164 MARK BILLINGHAM

responses signified would give him a skewed idea of

Alison's condition.

If he wasn't thinking it already, he would be sure he'd

lost her.

The wheels squeaked as the orderly moved the black board into position at the foot of the bed. Optimistic as she was, Anne could sense the enormity of the task that lay

ahead of her. Alison was twenty-four. This was her first

day at kindergarten.

'I wonder what my patients would think if I suggested

anaesthetising them with a lump hammer?' Bishop sipped

his coffee and stared at the blackboard.

Anne said nothing. It was hardly state of the art, but at

this stage it was adequate. She took off her coat and put on

her glasses. She picked up the remote control hooked over

the head of the bed and pressed a button. With a deep, res onant hum, the bed began to move and Alison was raised up until she was virtual y sitting.

'Alison, I've got Dr Bishop with me this afternoon. You

might remember him. He treated you the night you were

brought in.' She turned to look at Bishop. He was studying

the lines of letters, drawn in chalk.

Anne moved up to the top of the bed and took Alison's .i

hand. 'Right, let's see if we can speed things up a bit. Can

you see the blackboard, Alison?'

Alison's right eyelid crinkled immediately. She half shut

the eye then opened it. Then, five seconds later, a blink.

Anne squeezed her hand.

'Good. A to Z in two lines and I've listed a few other

things along the bottom. Later on we can increase the list

as I get better at this but for now just the basics. "Tired",

"in pain", "hungry", "thirsty", "nauseous", You'l have

SLEEPYHEAD 165

tO bear with me, I'm afraid, until we get used to the speed of your responses. I know it'l be frustrating at first, but I think it's going to be worth it. OK, Alison?'

The vein on Alison's forehead was standing out. "Fen seconds. A blink.

Anne moved round to the other side of the bed and closed the blind. 'Right, let's just make things as comfortable as possible for you. Can you get the lights, Jeremy?'

Bishop moved to the door and turned out the lights. The room was in semi-darkness. From her pocket Anne produced what looked like a large fountain pen as she moved to the blackboard.

'Right, Alison, this is a laser pointer. It should make it easier to define the letters for you and it makes me feel a little bit less like I'm giving a military briefing. Let's just start at the bottom, make sure you're feeling al right.' She moved the laser pointer until the dot of light lay directly below 'in pain'. 'Don't bother with no if you're not. Just yes if any of them apply.'

Slowly she moved the pointer along the bottom row of words, highlighting each one for nearly a minute. As she waited Anne looked intently at Alison. She could hear the drone of the traffic outside. There was no reaction. She glanced across at Bishop. He nodded.

'Right, let's have a crack at this, shal we?' She began to move the pointer. Bishop removed a smal pad from his top pocket and sat holding a pencii, waiting. Anne held the pointer under each letter for nearly a minute but after the first five or six she began to speed up a little. P... Q... R...S.

A blink.

Anne wanted to cheer. 'S. OK...'

166 MARK BILLINGHAM

She reached the end of the alphabet without any further reaction.

Bishop cleared his throat. 'It's a shame there aren't more words in alphabetical order, Jimmy.'

Anne turned to face him, the light from the pointer passing across his chest like the laser dot on a sniper's rifle. He was busily scribbling. 'Almost...'

'Almost what?' She could feel herself starting to get snappy.

'Almost is one. A word where the letters occur in alphabetical order. And bil owy. Aegilops is actual y the longest, which, amazingly enough, is an ulcer in part of the eye, though I can't see her bringing that up.' He smiled. 'Back to the beginning, I think.'

Anne felt stupid for not having considered this. Perhaps there was a more efficient way of laying out the letters. She'd have to work on it later. A second pass added H, O and R.

Anne tried to help. 'Short? Alison... short?'

Alison blinked. Anne waited. Alison blinked again. Back

to the beginning.

On the third pass Alison blinked as the laser pointer reached M. Anne looked across at Bishop, who was scribbling in his notebook. He stood up, smiling, and moved towards the bed. 'I think she's being a bit over-eager. She's blinking in advance of some Of the letters in case she misses them.'

Anne looked at him. There was a hint of impatience when she spoke. 'And?'

'If the S is a T and we go one letter on from the M...'

Anne thought for a moment, worked it out, and blushed. Bishop smiled mischievously at her. 'She's asking

SLEEPYHEAD 167

how our friend the detective inspector is. If I were you I'd add a question mark to the board.' He was standing at the head of the bed. He looked down at Alison. 'And you might want to draw a smiley face on there somewhere as wel . There's a definite twinkle in that eye.'

Anne picked up a piece of chalk, a little irritated. Perhaps she shouldn't have asked Jeremy to come along. She'd wanted a col eague who was also a friend to back her up and he'd been only too glad to help, but fond as she was of him, he could be awful y smug. She began to write on the blackboard. 'I'm glad al that time doing The Times crossword hasn't been wasted, Jeremy...'

Bishop wasn't listening. He was leaning down, his face

close to Alison's. 'Do you remember me, Alison?'

A blink.

'From when you were admitted?'

Nothing. Then, a blink.

Bishop nodded. His voice was low and eminently soothing. 'That's good. Now what about before, Alison? Can

you remember anything from before?'

A blink.

Anne turned back from the board.

Another one.

Bishop walked back towards Anne, shaking his head. He held out the notepad to her with a grin. Around the single word THORNE he'd drawn a heart with an arrow through it. Anne snatched it from him with part-mock, part-genuine annoyance and moved to open the curtains.

'Mr Thorne is very wel , thank you, Alison. I'm frankly disturbed that my private life is of such immediate concern to you.' She walked to the bed and looked down. Alison's eyes were stil locked on the blackboard. 'Not that I should

168 MARK BILLINGHAM

expect a great deal else from a shameless Geordie hussy with a one-track mind!' She put her hand gently on the girl's shoulder. Her smile was huge and just for Alison.

She turned to look at Bishop, who was staring at the blackboard and smiling at something. She felt sorry for being irritated with him. 'Do you want to pop over for something to eat later?'

He answered without turning round. 'Sorry, Jimmy, I have a date.'

She moved to join him, her eyes wide at the prospect of

intrigue. 'Sounds mysterious?'

'Not real y.'

'Suit yourself. I'l get it out of you later, though, you know I wil . What's so funny anyway?'

Bishop was snorting as he stared at the letters on the blackboard. Anne stared at him, stil smiling. 'What?'

'Remember that night in your flat twenty-odd years ago?' 'No...'

'Raising the dead, me, you and David. And that girl

from Leeds, what was her name?'

'Oh, God, that was freaky.'

'No, it wasn't. David was moving the glass.'

Anne pretended to shudder but felt a genuine chil at the memory. She turned to include Alison, pointing at the blackboard. 'He thinks this looks like a Ouija board.'

The smile on Bishop's face died a little, as he muttered to himself, 'Might just as wel be.'

Thorne picked up the Backhand contact list from the kitchen table and walked through to the living room to cal Dave Hol and. The Bil was on with the sound turned down. As good a situation comedy as ITV would ever have.

SLEEPYHEAD 169

'Hel o...'

Hol and's girlfriend. Christ, what was her name? 'Oh, hi, is that Sophie?' 'Who's this?'

'Oh, sorry, it's Tom Thorne, I work with Dave. Is he around?'

He heard the distortion in sound as she put her hand over the phone. He couldn't make out what she was saying. As Hol and came to the phone he could hear the television being turned down.

'Hol and, it's DI Thorne...' Best not to be too matey. 'I

hope I'm not keeping you from your homework.'

'Sorry, sir?'

' The Bil - I heard it in the background. It's not real, you know.'

Hol and laughed. 'Yeah, but that one they al take the piss out of is an awful lot like DI Tughan.'

The joke told Thorne a great deal. Hol and knew the way things stood. As it happened, Thorne also knew which character he was talking about - he was spot on. He had seriously underestimated this young man. 'Listen, obviously you know I'm back at Hendon now, but I'd stil be interested in any developments on the case. Who's come in, by the way?'

'Roger Brewer. Scottish bloke - seems nice enough.'

Thorne hadn't heard of him. probably just as wel . 'So, you know, anything comes up...

'I'l let you know straight away, sir.'

'Anything and everything, Hol and... please.'

Rachel looked at her watch. He was only five minutes late but she didn't want to miss the trailers. She thought about 170 MARK BILLINGHAM

the nutter who'd sat behind her on the bus from Muswel Hil and decided she'd get a cab back. She checked her purse. If she paid for her own ticket she'd need to ask him to lend her the money. Mum would be happier with a taxi anyway, although she'd wonder why Claire's dad hadn't given her a lift. He usual y did after she'd been round there for the evening. Maybe she could say his car was in the garage. But she might see him driving around. Or talk to Claire's mother on the phone. She decided it was probably easier to ask the cab to stop somewhere away from the house. Too many lies weren't a good idea. She wasn't very good at it and she didn't like lying to her mum anyway. She'd just have to pray her mum didn't run into Claire in the next few days.