Read Online Murder by the Book by Eric Brown - Free Book Online Page A

‘but Charles is a good man.’
    Lassiter laughed without humour. ‘Differences? You’d have “differences” if he’d dumped you as he dumped me back in ’thirty-nine. Biggest mistake of his career – not that I’m worrying! Anyway,’ he went on, ‘how’re the Sam Brooke books doing these days?’
    Langham pushed open the door, inviting Lassiter through before him. He followed and emerged into dazzling sunlight.
    â€˜I’ll forever be a stalwart of the mid-list, Nigel. But I can’t complain.’
    Lassiter paused on the busy pavement, lit up his habitual Pall Mall cigarette, and blew out a cloud of smoke. ‘Well, that’s what I want to chat to you about. A business proposition.’
    Langham was surprised. ‘Business?’
    â€˜Over a drink?’ Lassiter looked at his watch. ‘Three, dammit … How about Tolly’s? Charge through the nose but I’ll stand the pints.’
    â€˜An offer I’d be a fool to refuse.’
    They crossed the road and cut across Leicester Square. Lassiter peered at Langham’s bandage. ‘Looks nasty. What happened there?’
    â€˜Stupid accident. I fell down the front steps the other day. And before you ask, I was sober.’
    They turned down a narrow alley to Lassiter’s Soho drinking club, a subterranean dive sandwiched between a cheap Italian restaurant and a Chinese laundry.
    â€˜Grenville told me about Sidley,’ Langham said.
    â€˜Just delivered the copy of his obit. Ghastly business.’
    They descended a flight of greasy steps and pushed through into a twilit corridor. Lassiter signed them in and led the way to a small room packed with dedicated afternoon drinkers.
    Tolly’s was the haunt of indigent artists and writers, every square foot of the walls plastered with gaudy canvases traded for drinks in lieu of cash. The effect was claustrophobic and somewhat disorienting, Langham thought, a little like being trapped inside the nightmare of a crazed abstract expressionist.
    Lassiter pushed his way to the bar. The only beer on offer was bottled Double Diamond or Guinness. Langham opted for the latter while Lassiter ordered a double whisky.
    They found a table near the bar. Lassiter called out over the din of chatter and raucous laughter, ‘Fortuitous bumping into you, Donald. Just read your latest.’
    â€˜Oh, dear …’
    â€˜Don’t be so modest, man. I loved it. Had heart.’ He swallowed his drink, accounting for almost half the short.
    â€˜Well, cheers,’ Langham said, hoisting his Guinness.
    Lassiter stubbed out his first cigarette and lit up a second. ‘How many have you done now?’
    â€˜Twenty-two mysteries, twenty of them featuring Sam Brooke.’ He didn’t own up to the early westerns.
    â€˜Feeling jaded?’
    Langham shook his head. ‘Miraculously, I’m still enjoying the job.’
    â€˜Then you’re a better man than me.’ Lassiter’s broad, meaty face looked pensive. ‘How do you do it, Donald? I mean, keep up the enthusiasm? Your latest … Bloody hell, it was as fresh as your first. The writing … crisp, sharp. I could tell you loved writing it.’
    Langham shrugged. ‘I did. I do. Each book is different.’
    â€˜But bloody hell … Twenty books about the same private detective?’
    â€˜Ah, but the trick is to introduce major new characters which Sam can bounce off in every book; learn things about himself as he works on the mystery.’
    Lassiter listened silently, staring down at his drink. ‘I’ve just finished my fortieth thriller, Donald. Between you, me and the gatepost, it’s sheer baloney. Every sodding day was a chore. Woke up thinking, Christ, do I really have to hack out another thousand words of this meaningless run-around?’
    Langham shrugged. ‘How about taking a break? You’re not short of a bob or two