Read Online Sudden Death by Phil Kurthausen - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Phil Kurthausen
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legal case, a dispute over a hedge boundary, a divorce case maybe. Or maybe not, his reputation seemed set after the mayor’s case the previous year.
‘And you want me to find this Ethan?’
She nodded.
‘I’m scared, Erasmus.’
At that moment she looked like the twenty-five-year-old who had broken his heart.
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
Karen nodded. He led her out into the other office, all the time wanting to touch her on the arm but resisting because he didn’t trust what that feeling may do to him.
Pete had removed his headphones and appeared to be doing some work on the computer. On closer inspection Erasmus could see he was on the
Racing Post
website. He looked up.
‘You two, er, all right?’
‘We’re fine,’ said Karen.
‘We are going to be working on a job for Karen. I’ll fill you in.’
He saw Karen out and then walked back into the office. Pete ran his fingers through his long hair.
‘I hope you know what you’re doing. You’ve told me what happened when she left you the first time.’
‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you that time is a great healer,’ said Erasmus. ‘I’m going to open a new file.’
He shut the door to his office behind him and walked over to the large window that overlooked the river. He stood there and the feelings that swept through him were as strong as the tides twisting and pulling at the Mersey below.
CHAPTER 7
Quitting hadn’t been as straightforward as Erasmus thought it would be.
He had gone home and opened a fresh bottle of Yamakazi, and then played some Fall and Pixie tracks from his Mac until the liquid concrete above his eyes had set. Press repeat, Friday through Sunday. He had deliberately not left the house in the evening. The twelve steps were all well and good but Erasmus knew that if he left the house drunk he wouldn’t be returning on his own. His mentor, Martha, swore that this was what had kept her faithful to her husband for the past eighteen months. Denial of service, she called it. Erasmus thought it might just be dealing with the symptoms rather than the cause but if the result was the same –not having sex with random strangers – then who cared? He had come too close that night at the club and wasn’t it true that some of the anger he directed at Gary Jones had sprung from his own self loathing at succumbing once again?
The fact that he might be replacing one addiction with another in the form of alcohol was a risk he was prepared to take, or rather thought he was happy to take until he woke up on Monday morning to the sound of his mobile phone like an electronic rat burrowing into his brain and gnawing on his awake switch.
He swore and reached for the source of his pain. The mobile was lodged under the sofa cushion he had fallen asleep on. He dug it out and answered.
It was Ted.
‘Why haven’t you been answering your phone?’
Erasmus started to speak but his throat seemed to be clogged with cotton wool. He reached for a mug and luckily it had some cold tea in it. He drained it.
‘Business trip,’ he said.
‘I heard what happened. These kids can be a handful sometimes.’
Erasmus dug out a pack of Marlboro lights from the pocket of his trousers and lit one with a lighter he didn’t recognise. This was a bad sign. Instinctively, he looked around for the girl whose lighter this might be.
‘Those “kids” nearly fucking killed me.’
Ted chuckled.
‘I heard you made them pay, as well. I’ve had Gary Jones’s agent, Steve Cowley, on the line screaming at me that I should sack you. Apparently Gary soiled himself and the other players have been taking the Michael ever since.’
Erasmus inhaled, so much guilt and pleasure in one tiny object. They should charge double for them, he thought.
‘You can’t sack me, I quit.’
Ted ignored him.
‘Of course, what Gary wants isn’t so important. He is coming to the end of his career, no one wants him but us now, and so I can ignore that. The interesting thing is
‘And you want me to find this Ethan?’
She nodded.
‘I’m scared, Erasmus.’
At that moment she looked like the twenty-five-year-old who had broken his heart.
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
Karen nodded. He led her out into the other office, all the time wanting to touch her on the arm but resisting because he didn’t trust what that feeling may do to him.
Pete had removed his headphones and appeared to be doing some work on the computer. On closer inspection Erasmus could see he was on the
Racing Post
website. He looked up.
‘You two, er, all right?’
‘We’re fine,’ said Karen.
‘We are going to be working on a job for Karen. I’ll fill you in.’
He saw Karen out and then walked back into the office. Pete ran his fingers through his long hair.
‘I hope you know what you’re doing. You’ve told me what happened when she left you the first time.’
‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you that time is a great healer,’ said Erasmus. ‘I’m going to open a new file.’
He shut the door to his office behind him and walked over to the large window that overlooked the river. He stood there and the feelings that swept through him were as strong as the tides twisting and pulling at the Mersey below.
CHAPTER 7
Quitting hadn’t been as straightforward as Erasmus thought it would be.
He had gone home and opened a fresh bottle of Yamakazi, and then played some Fall and Pixie tracks from his Mac until the liquid concrete above his eyes had set. Press repeat, Friday through Sunday. He had deliberately not left the house in the evening. The twelve steps were all well and good but Erasmus knew that if he left the house drunk he wouldn’t be returning on his own. His mentor, Martha, swore that this was what had kept her faithful to her husband for the past eighteen months. Denial of service, she called it. Erasmus thought it might just be dealing with the symptoms rather than the cause but if the result was the same –not having sex with random strangers – then who cared? He had come too close that night at the club and wasn’t it true that some of the anger he directed at Gary Jones had sprung from his own self loathing at succumbing once again?
The fact that he might be replacing one addiction with another in the form of alcohol was a risk he was prepared to take, or rather thought he was happy to take until he woke up on Monday morning to the sound of his mobile phone like an electronic rat burrowing into his brain and gnawing on his awake switch.
He swore and reached for the source of his pain. The mobile was lodged under the sofa cushion he had fallen asleep on. He dug it out and answered.
It was Ted.
‘Why haven’t you been answering your phone?’
Erasmus started to speak but his throat seemed to be clogged with cotton wool. He reached for a mug and luckily it had some cold tea in it. He drained it.
‘Business trip,’ he said.
‘I heard what happened. These kids can be a handful sometimes.’
Erasmus dug out a pack of Marlboro lights from the pocket of his trousers and lit one with a lighter he didn’t recognise. This was a bad sign. Instinctively, he looked around for the girl whose lighter this might be.
‘Those “kids” nearly fucking killed me.’
Ted chuckled.
‘I heard you made them pay, as well. I’ve had Gary Jones’s agent, Steve Cowley, on the line screaming at me that I should sack you. Apparently Gary soiled himself and the other players have been taking the Michael ever since.’
Erasmus inhaled, so much guilt and pleasure in one tiny object. They should charge double for them, he thought.
‘You can’t sack me, I quit.’
Ted ignored him.
‘Of course, what Gary wants isn’t so important. He is coming to the end of his career, no one wants him but us now, and so I can ignore that. The interesting thing is
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