Read Online In the Dark by Mark Billingham - Free Book Online Page A

stamped on the fags so they could all get on with it.
    By mid-morning he’d made a decent stab at clearing his desk, though there were still a good many ‘shit waiting’ folders bulging in drawers or sitting on his computer. He’d fired off a dozen emails, completed the paperwork on as many requests for mobile-phone records and typed up surveillance logs for which he was being pestered by three different units. It was hard enough keeping up with the paper-chase when you were doing what you were supposed to . . .
    â€˜Want to grab some lunch later?’
    Paul looked up as DS Gary Kelly pushed aside a box file and leaned against the edge of his desk. ‘I can only pray you’re not talking about the canteen.’
    â€˜I was thinking about that Chinese place opposite Waterloo Station,’ Kelly said. ‘Cracking all-you-can-eat of a lunchtime.’
    â€˜Sounds good.’
    â€˜I mean, you know, only if you’re still here , obviously.’ Kelly was short and sandy-haired, with a smile that changed his whole face, squashing his features. When Paul had first met him, he wasn’t sure if people called Kelly ‘Spud’ because of the Irish name or the potato face. ‘I know you’ve been hugely busy.’
    â€˜Yeah, sorry, mate. Bits and pieces to sort out. You know how it is.’
    Kelly leaned down, lowered his voice. ‘No, I don’t, to be honest.’ He nodded towards the nest of workstations. ‘I can understand you not wanting this lot knowing your business, but we go back a bit.’
    Paul laughed. ‘There’s no big mystery, I swear.’
    â€˜So, let’s have it then.’
    â€˜I’ll fill you in at lunchtime, all right?’
    Kelly nodded. Seemed happy enough with that.
    â€˜Not that there’s anything too dramatic.’
    It would give Paul a couple of hours to come up with something. A fuck-up on an old case that had come back to bite him in the arse; some mess he was trying to get himself out of on the sly; maybe a few personal odds and ends he needed to deal with.
    Kelly was a good friend, meaning he was easy enough to bullshit.
    â€˜How’s the missus?’
    â€˜She’s fine,’ Paul said, looking back to his computer screen. ‘Huge, but fine.’
    â€˜You still excited? Or have you hit the “scared to death” stage?’ Kelly had two kids and a wife who had just fallen pregnant again. ‘Seriously, mate, it’s hard work, but you’ll love it, I promise you.’
    A good friend, but there was plenty Paul hadn’t told him.
    â€˜By the way, I need to get fifteen quid off you.’
    â€˜What for?’
    Kelly stuck out a hand. ‘They’re organising a leaving do for Bob Barker, a week on Friday.’
    Paul dug into his wallet for the notes. ‘Where is it?’
    â€˜Still arguing about that.’ Kelly took the cash. ‘Be handier for us if it was round here, but some of those old buggers he worked with on the Flying Squad are pushing for somewhere north of the river. I’ll let you know.’
    Paul looked past him, saw Detective Inspector Martin Bescott heading his way; pointing, open-mouthed, in mock-surprise at seeing him.
    â€˜Oh yeah, he wants a word,’ Kelly said.
    The DI wouldn’t be quite as easy to deal with as Kelly, but Paul knew he could handle it. He stood up and walked around his desk, smiling. Said, ‘I don’t suppose a note from my mum would be any good, would it?’ Fifteen quid down already, and a tricky ten minutes with his boss on the cards; but still, not too much that was going to piss him off this morning.
    Not with what Kevin Shepherd was offering.
    Shepherd had called a few days before: full of it, like they were old friends or something; tossing out an invitation to dinner that night at some new Italian place with ‘properly cooked spuds’ and no ‘fucked-up French sauces’. That was how