Read Online Lazy Bones by Mark Billingham - Free Book Online
Authors: Mark Billingham
Tags: Fiction, General, Psychological fiction, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective, Suspense fiction, Mystery Fiction, Police, Police Procedural, Serial Murders, Rapists, Thorne; Tom (Fictitious character), Police - Great Britain, Rapists - Crimes against
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wel as three young kids...'
'The DCI's got kids...'
'Yeah, and he's a fucking mess like the rest of us. You seem to manage it al without breaking a sweat. Work, home, kids, dogs and your sodding lunch in a box.' He held out the ruler towards her, as if it was a microphone. 'Tel us, DI Kitson, how do you manage it? What's your secret?'
She cleared her throat, playing along. Truth be known, they were both glad of a laugh. 'Natural talent, an old man who's a pushover and ruthless organisational skil s. Plus, I never take the job home.' Thorne blinked.
'Right, any more questions?'
Thorne shook his head, put the ruler down on his desk.
'Good. I'm going to get a cup of tea. Want one...?'
They walked along the corridor, past the other offices, towards the Major Incident Room.
'Seriously, though,' Thorne said, 'you do amaze me sometimes.' He meant it. Nobody on the team had known Yvonne Kitson for very long, but bar the odd comment from older, less efficient male col eagues, nobody had a bad word to say about her. At thirty-three, she would almost certainly have been furious about the fact that many of them, Thorne included, found her comfortingly mumsy. This was more to do with her personality and style than with her face or figure, both of which were more than attractive. Her clothes were never flashy, her ash-blond hair was always sensible. She had no sharp edges, she did her job and she never seemed to get rattled. Thorne found it easy to see why Kitson was already earmarked for bigger and better things.
At the coffee machine, Kitson leaned down to take Thorne's cup from the dispenser. She handed the tea to him. 'I meant it, about taking the job home.' She began to feed more coins into the machine. 'Couldn't if I wanted to, there's no bloody room...'
55
Every window in the Incident Room was open. Bits of paper were being blown from the tops of desks and filing cabinets. Thorne sipped his tea listened to the flutter of paper, to the grunts of those be'nding to pick it up, and he thought how different he was from this woman. He took the job everywhere, home included, though there wasn't usual y anybody there to bring it home to. He and his ex-wife Jan had divorced five years earlier, after she'd started getting distinctly extra-curricular with a Fine Arts lecturer. Thorne had had one or two
'adventures' since then, but there hadn't been anyone significant.
Kitson dropped the red-hot plastic cup into another empty one and blew across the top of her drink. 'By the way, the Remfry case?' she said. 'Is it just me, or are we getting seriously fucking nowhere?'
Thorne saw Russel Brigstocke appear on the far side of the room. He beckoned, turned and headed back in the direction of his office. Thorne took a step in the same direction, and, without looking, he answered Kitson's question.
'No, it isn't just you...'
When Russel Brigstocke was real y pissed off, he had a face that could curdle milk. When he was trying to look serious, there was a hint of the melodramatic, a cocking of the head and a pursing of the lips that
always made Thorne smile, much as he tried not to.
'Right, where are we, Tom?'
Thorne tried and failed not to smile. He didn't bother to hide it, deciding that a more upbeat response than the one he'd just given Yvonne Kitson might not be a bad idea anyway.
'Nothing earth shattering, but it's ticking along, sir.' It was always sir after one of Brigstocke's looks. 'We've traced most of the male relatives now. Nothing that hopeful, but we might get lucky. Spoken to most of Remfry's former cel mates and the Gribbin thing looks the most likely...'
56
Brigstocke nodded. 'I think it sounds promising. If someone bit half my nose off, I think I/bear a fucking grudge.'
'Remfry said it was him that did it. Probably just larging it. Anyway,
we can't find Gribbin...'
'What else?'
Thorne held up his hands. 'That's it. Apart from chasing up the computer side of it. We can start looking at the Inmate Information
'The DCI's got kids...'
'Yeah, and he's a fucking mess like the rest of us. You seem to manage it al without breaking a sweat. Work, home, kids, dogs and your sodding lunch in a box.' He held out the ruler towards her, as if it was a microphone. 'Tel us, DI Kitson, how do you manage it? What's your secret?'
She cleared her throat, playing along. Truth be known, they were both glad of a laugh. 'Natural talent, an old man who's a pushover and ruthless organisational skil s. Plus, I never take the job home.' Thorne blinked.
'Right, any more questions?'
Thorne shook his head, put the ruler down on his desk.
'Good. I'm going to get a cup of tea. Want one...?'
They walked along the corridor, past the other offices, towards the Major Incident Room.
'Seriously, though,' Thorne said, 'you do amaze me sometimes.' He meant it. Nobody on the team had known Yvonne Kitson for very long, but bar the odd comment from older, less efficient male col eagues, nobody had a bad word to say about her. At thirty-three, she would almost certainly have been furious about the fact that many of them, Thorne included, found her comfortingly mumsy. This was more to do with her personality and style than with her face or figure, both of which were more than attractive. Her clothes were never flashy, her ash-blond hair was always sensible. She had no sharp edges, she did her job and she never seemed to get rattled. Thorne found it easy to see why Kitson was already earmarked for bigger and better things.
At the coffee machine, Kitson leaned down to take Thorne's cup from the dispenser. She handed the tea to him. 'I meant it, about taking the job home.' She began to feed more coins into the machine. 'Couldn't if I wanted to, there's no bloody room...'
55
Every window in the Incident Room was open. Bits of paper were being blown from the tops of desks and filing cabinets. Thorne sipped his tea listened to the flutter of paper, to the grunts of those be'nding to pick it up, and he thought how different he was from this woman. He took the job everywhere, home included, though there wasn't usual y anybody there to bring it home to. He and his ex-wife Jan had divorced five years earlier, after she'd started getting distinctly extra-curricular with a Fine Arts lecturer. Thorne had had one or two
'adventures' since then, but there hadn't been anyone significant.
Kitson dropped the red-hot plastic cup into another empty one and blew across the top of her drink. 'By the way, the Remfry case?' she said. 'Is it just me, or are we getting seriously fucking nowhere?'
Thorne saw Russel Brigstocke appear on the far side of the room. He beckoned, turned and headed back in the direction of his office. Thorne took a step in the same direction, and, without looking, he answered Kitson's question.
'No, it isn't just you...'
When Russel Brigstocke was real y pissed off, he had a face that could curdle milk. When he was trying to look serious, there was a hint of the melodramatic, a cocking of the head and a pursing of the lips that
always made Thorne smile, much as he tried not to.
'Right, where are we, Tom?'
Thorne tried and failed not to smile. He didn't bother to hide it, deciding that a more upbeat response than the one he'd just given Yvonne Kitson might not be a bad idea anyway.
'Nothing earth shattering, but it's ticking along, sir.' It was always sir after one of Brigstocke's looks. 'We've traced most of the male relatives now. Nothing that hopeful, but we might get lucky. Spoken to most of Remfry's former cel mates and the Gribbin thing looks the most likely...'
56
Brigstocke nodded. 'I think it sounds promising. If someone bit half my nose off, I think I/bear a fucking grudge.'
'Remfry said it was him that did it. Probably just larging it. Anyway,
we can't find Gribbin...'
'What else?'
Thorne held up his hands. 'That's it. Apart from chasing up the computer side of it. We can start looking at the Inmate Information
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