Read Online Sympathy for the Devil by Howard Marks - Free Book Online
Authors: Howard Marks
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the bottle at his back. Then the man falling inward, face first, disappearing from view.
After a few minutes she sat back, put her Mac on pause, stubbed her roll-up. The truth was she was seeing nothing new in the film. In fact, each time she watched it, she felt she was seeing slightly less. This wasn’t going to be one of those cases where a detail in the background would reveal some sudden unexpected truth.
The film showed exactly what it appeared to show. A man mugging a woman, assaulting another junkie, then passing out on the beach. Pugh and the others were right, there was no mystery here. She was wasting her time. You get exactly what it says on the tin with this one, she thought.
She lit another cigarette, opened the window a crack, then lay back on the sofa. There was only one detail that had struck her as odd in all her viewings of the film. It was not enough for her to doubt the basic truth of what she had seen. But it was a detail that didn’t entirely make sense all the same.
Before assaulting the second man, the other street junkie, Rhys had handed him the twenties. Why had he done this, if he was about to assault him? Why hadn’t he just assaulted the man from the outset? Why bother to give the twenties first?
Rhys had backed away a few paces, she’d noticed, before he had begun the attack. As if something the man had done had triggered what followed. But in the stills the second man had not altered his posture, had not even opened his mouth. It was an entirely unprovoked attack, or appeared to be.
Of course, not everything a junkie did would make sense. Maybe Rhys had only decided to attack at that moment, or had given the twenties first to put the man at ease. There were explanations, rationalisations, there always were. But something about this detail didn’t feel quite right to her.
She picked up her phone, dialled DS Thomas’s number.
‘The man in the hut, the street junkie,’ she said. She didn’t bother with greetings. He’d know what she was talking about straight off.
‘Yes? What about him?’
‘Has he been seen since the attack?’
‘No, nothing.’ He wasn’t showing any signs of caring she’d seen the tapes. He sounded relaxed, slightly bored with the topic. ‘We’re not seeing him as a suspect, if that’s why you’re asking.’
‘No?’
‘We have officers who saw him lying in exactly the position you see in the film. And that was after Rhys’s body had been found.’
‘They didn’t try to rouse him, call for an ambulance?’
‘They didn’t see signs of injury. Just thought he was a dosser sleeping it off.’
She pondered this for a few moments. ‘So he can’t have been that badly hurt, if he then got up and made off?’
‘I guess not.’ He was yawning now, not trying to hide it either. There was a tinny bleeping noise. It sounded as if it was coming from a computer game.
She thought she saw why Thomas wasn’t interested: if the man had been badly hurt he’d have turned up in an A&E somewhere along the coast by now. Most likely he was just lying low, not wanting to get involved in something he’d had nothing to do with.
‘No one seems to care that much,’ she said.
There was silence, he’d switched the game off.
‘It doesn’t alter what happened to Rhys, does it,’ he said. ‘Rhys may have committed an assault before he died. But his death was still an accident.’
It was difficult to argue with this logic. That was the problem with Thomas, he was detestable but he was logical.
‘So you don’t want to know why Rhys assaulted the man?’
Thomas was sighing, it was obvious the matter didn’t interest him in the least.
‘Rhys was a street junkie,’ he said, ‘assault is what street junkies do.’ He paused. ‘Rhys committing an assault before he dies, it’s about as significant as an average bloke having a couple of pints.’
She hung up. Though she hated to admit it, she knew he had a point. It was probably a routine enough act
After a few minutes she sat back, put her Mac on pause, stubbed her roll-up. The truth was she was seeing nothing new in the film. In fact, each time she watched it, she felt she was seeing slightly less. This wasn’t going to be one of those cases where a detail in the background would reveal some sudden unexpected truth.
The film showed exactly what it appeared to show. A man mugging a woman, assaulting another junkie, then passing out on the beach. Pugh and the others were right, there was no mystery here. She was wasting her time. You get exactly what it says on the tin with this one, she thought.
She lit another cigarette, opened the window a crack, then lay back on the sofa. There was only one detail that had struck her as odd in all her viewings of the film. It was not enough for her to doubt the basic truth of what she had seen. But it was a detail that didn’t entirely make sense all the same.
Before assaulting the second man, the other street junkie, Rhys had handed him the twenties. Why had he done this, if he was about to assault him? Why hadn’t he just assaulted the man from the outset? Why bother to give the twenties first?
Rhys had backed away a few paces, she’d noticed, before he had begun the attack. As if something the man had done had triggered what followed. But in the stills the second man had not altered his posture, had not even opened his mouth. It was an entirely unprovoked attack, or appeared to be.
Of course, not everything a junkie did would make sense. Maybe Rhys had only decided to attack at that moment, or had given the twenties first to put the man at ease. There were explanations, rationalisations, there always were. But something about this detail didn’t feel quite right to her.
She picked up her phone, dialled DS Thomas’s number.
‘The man in the hut, the street junkie,’ she said. She didn’t bother with greetings. He’d know what she was talking about straight off.
‘Yes? What about him?’
‘Has he been seen since the attack?’
‘No, nothing.’ He wasn’t showing any signs of caring she’d seen the tapes. He sounded relaxed, slightly bored with the topic. ‘We’re not seeing him as a suspect, if that’s why you’re asking.’
‘No?’
‘We have officers who saw him lying in exactly the position you see in the film. And that was after Rhys’s body had been found.’
‘They didn’t try to rouse him, call for an ambulance?’
‘They didn’t see signs of injury. Just thought he was a dosser sleeping it off.’
She pondered this for a few moments. ‘So he can’t have been that badly hurt, if he then got up and made off?’
‘I guess not.’ He was yawning now, not trying to hide it either. There was a tinny bleeping noise. It sounded as if it was coming from a computer game.
She thought she saw why Thomas wasn’t interested: if the man had been badly hurt he’d have turned up in an A&E somewhere along the coast by now. Most likely he was just lying low, not wanting to get involved in something he’d had nothing to do with.
‘No one seems to care that much,’ she said.
There was silence, he’d switched the game off.
‘It doesn’t alter what happened to Rhys, does it,’ he said. ‘Rhys may have committed an assault before he died. But his death was still an accident.’
It was difficult to argue with this logic. That was the problem with Thomas, he was detestable but he was logical.
‘So you don’t want to know why Rhys assaulted the man?’
Thomas was sighing, it was obvious the matter didn’t interest him in the least.
‘Rhys was a street junkie,’ he said, ‘assault is what street junkies do.’ He paused. ‘Rhys committing an assault before he dies, it’s about as significant as an average bloke having a couple of pints.’
She hung up. Though she hated to admit it, she knew he had a point. It was probably a routine enough act
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