Read Online Crossing the Line (Kerry Wilkinson) by Kerry Wilkinson - Free Book Online
Authors: Kerry Wilkinson
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just going to bend
over and take it up the—’
‘All right, I get the picture.’
It was an image that was more than enough to put her off any type of tea tonight. If his face was that
hairy, she didn’t even want to think what the rest of him looked like. He had almost certainly
committed a bunch of petty acts of vandalism directed towards his former friend over the years but
there was little they could do about those.
‘For now,’ Jessica continued, ‘can we skip the incidents you might or might not have been involved
in over the years and bring things a bit more up to date. What are you doing now?’
‘Well, I had no money, did I? I had to start again. I got taken on here a few years ago and worked
my way up to senior telecommunications happiness enhancer.’
Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask .
‘What were you before that?’
‘Junior telecommunications happiness enhancer.’
Shouldn’t have asked.
‘Where were you at ten o’clock this morning?’
Cowell nodded towards the door. ‘Out there, on the phones – and don’t go thinking I hired someone
either, I know what you police types are like, all CSI Manchester and NYPD whatever it is. I’ve got a
shit flat – though not as bad as the last one, shit car, shit job, all because of Luke bloody Callaghan. I only wish I’d been there to see him getting his comeuppance. Check my bank accounts – there’s
nothing in there, and there’ll be even less after tonight.’
Jessica didn’t doubt it – he certainly didn’t have enough in his account to buy an ear trimmer. Aside
from double-checking with his boss he was actually at work that morning, Jessica knew there was
little more she could do here.
As she stood to leave, Cowell ensured he had the last word, holding his hands up to indicate his
innocence. Given his guilty look from before, she doubted he’d be able to cover anything up now.
‘Honestly, love, if I had a bloody clue what nitric acid was, or where to get it, I’d have done it years ago. Like I said – Luke Callaghan: one of life’s C-words. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a trip to a
strip club to organise.’
Jessica left the office feeling sorry for the pretty young teenager who didn’t yet realise she was
going to spend the evening with Michael Cowell’s ear hair jammed between her breasts.
7
Outside of the office, the pool car was frozen again, so Jessica sat in the driver’s seat with the heaters on full listening to some moron on the radio say that whoever was in charge of policing that morning
should be sacked.
Poor Esther.
Jessica tried calling again but her phone was off.
When the windscreen had cleared and Jessica had got the feeling back into her fingers, she returned
to Longsight, signed the car back in, told Fat Pat she’d get him a vanilla slice if he stopped gossiping about her, and then headed for the pub.
The evening air was even colder than it had been during the day, with frost glistening on the
pavement, despite it still just about being light. Although the longest day of the year was barely a
month away, the fixed dark clouds meant it might as well be night time. The unfortunate motorists who
hadn’t heard about the gridlock had their headlights on, heading into an hour-long traffic jam
whichever way they were going.
The closest pub to the station was on Stockport Road, opposite a primary school, presumably
because the only way the teachers could get through a day was to nick across at lunchtime. Niall was
already in a booth by himself cradling a pint of bitter and nursing the sad sense of someone who
didn’t have much going on in his life. If he was younger, he would have had his phone out; pretending
to be busy, pretending to have friends. Instead, he sat with his head bowed, striped jumper standing
out like a decorated Christmas tree in an empty room, inhaling the fumes of his half-finished drink.
Jessica slid in opposite him with a glass of wine and dropped
over and take it up the—’
‘All right, I get the picture.’
It was an image that was more than enough to put her off any type of tea tonight. If his face was that
hairy, she didn’t even want to think what the rest of him looked like. He had almost certainly
committed a bunch of petty acts of vandalism directed towards his former friend over the years but
there was little they could do about those.
‘For now,’ Jessica continued, ‘can we skip the incidents you might or might not have been involved
in over the years and bring things a bit more up to date. What are you doing now?’
‘Well, I had no money, did I? I had to start again. I got taken on here a few years ago and worked
my way up to senior telecommunications happiness enhancer.’
Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask .
‘What were you before that?’
‘Junior telecommunications happiness enhancer.’
Shouldn’t have asked.
‘Where were you at ten o’clock this morning?’
Cowell nodded towards the door. ‘Out there, on the phones – and don’t go thinking I hired someone
either, I know what you police types are like, all CSI Manchester and NYPD whatever it is. I’ve got a
shit flat – though not as bad as the last one, shit car, shit job, all because of Luke bloody Callaghan. I only wish I’d been there to see him getting his comeuppance. Check my bank accounts – there’s
nothing in there, and there’ll be even less after tonight.’
Jessica didn’t doubt it – he certainly didn’t have enough in his account to buy an ear trimmer. Aside
from double-checking with his boss he was actually at work that morning, Jessica knew there was
little more she could do here.
As she stood to leave, Cowell ensured he had the last word, holding his hands up to indicate his
innocence. Given his guilty look from before, she doubted he’d be able to cover anything up now.
‘Honestly, love, if I had a bloody clue what nitric acid was, or where to get it, I’d have done it years ago. Like I said – Luke Callaghan: one of life’s C-words. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a trip to a
strip club to organise.’
Jessica left the office feeling sorry for the pretty young teenager who didn’t yet realise she was
going to spend the evening with Michael Cowell’s ear hair jammed between her breasts.
7
Outside of the office, the pool car was frozen again, so Jessica sat in the driver’s seat with the heaters on full listening to some moron on the radio say that whoever was in charge of policing that morning
should be sacked.
Poor Esther.
Jessica tried calling again but her phone was off.
When the windscreen had cleared and Jessica had got the feeling back into her fingers, she returned
to Longsight, signed the car back in, told Fat Pat she’d get him a vanilla slice if he stopped gossiping about her, and then headed for the pub.
The evening air was even colder than it had been during the day, with frost glistening on the
pavement, despite it still just about being light. Although the longest day of the year was barely a
month away, the fixed dark clouds meant it might as well be night time. The unfortunate motorists who
hadn’t heard about the gridlock had their headlights on, heading into an hour-long traffic jam
whichever way they were going.
The closest pub to the station was on Stockport Road, opposite a primary school, presumably
because the only way the teachers could get through a day was to nick across at lunchtime. Niall was
already in a booth by himself cradling a pint of bitter and nursing the sad sense of someone who
didn’t have much going on in his life. If he was younger, he would have had his phone out; pretending
to be busy, pretending to have friends. Instead, he sat with his head bowed, striped jumper standing
out like a decorated Christmas tree in an empty room, inhaling the fumes of his half-finished drink.
Jessica slid in opposite him with a glass of wine and dropped
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