Read Online The Day of the Jack Russell (Mystery Man) by Colin Bateman - Free Book Online Page A

clue is in
piece
.
    If he was meaning longevity, he would have said how long is a ball of string.
    A piece of string is what a cat plays with.
    I am also allergic to cats.
    DI Robinson had accused me of being a low-rent hit man and then had the nerve to ask for a discount on a signed copy of Dave Goodis’ Dark Passage before he left. I refused the discount, but did knock thirty pence off because there was a slight tear in the cover.
    Low-rent?
    There was nothing low-rent about me.
    Many’s the time Alison had said the very opposite, complimenting me by saying I was high-maintenance.
    If I was any kind of a hit man, I was an expensive one, cool, calm and efficient.
    I shouldn’t have said that last bit out loud, which I tend to do when I’m alone.
    Walls have ears, and, sometimes, listening devices.
    I spent an hour sweeping for bugs and dust mites. Thinking, thinking all the time. Dark thoughts. I hated being accused of things I hadn’t done. Why did everyone pick on me? I just tried to help people, but it almost always backfired. Why couldn’t they leave me alone? I should close down the detective business. And the store. I should go home and look after Mother and never go out except for milk. I stopped brushing, chilled by a sudden thought. The medication I was on occasionally caused blackouts. I don’t mean fainting, but periods where I just couldn’t remember what I’d done. What if I really had killed Jimbo and RonnyCrabs? What if I’d forgotten to take my anti psychotic medicine and become . . . psychotic? What if I’d gone round there late at night and beaten them to a pulp with my mallet? Maybe I was just being paranoid. Maybe I’d forgotten to take my anti paranoid medicine. Sometimes it is difficult to keep track. I take something to help me with that. I checked my pulse. It was racing. I took a couple of settlers. I made up another pint of Vitolink. It was barely lunchtime but it was almost black outside. There was hail. My doctor says I’m the first patient he’s had with Seasonal Affective Disorder who gets depressed by all four seasons. He says his nurse calls me Frankie Valli.
    Breathe.
    Breathe deeply.
    Relax.
    I tried yoga once, but got tendonitis.
    Breathe.

    Across the road, Alison’s jewellery store had reopened with a sale and was busy with customers. I knew she was there, but with the rain-streaked windows on both our shops it was difficult to get a proper look at her. However, I was pretty certain she was keeping an eye on me and nervously wondering why the police hadn’t dragged me away yet.
    The phone rang.
    ‘Shows how much I know,’ a male voice said.
    ‘I’m sorry?’
    ‘I was just saying to the plod here, shows how much I know. I said to myself, I’ve got one phone call; who am I gonna call? My lawyer, my wife, my mistress, my children, my accountant?’
    ‘I’m sorry, but who is this?’
    ‘And turns out I didn’t say it to myself, but I said it out loud, sometimes I do that, and the plod says that that’s not true, that you’re only allowed one call, it’s not the dark ages, you can have as many calls as you want as long as you’re not, like, ordering pizza or anything.’
    ‘I . . .’
    ‘So you’re not top of my list, I called my wife, I called my lawyer and now I’m calling you. Third isn’t too bad, bronze medal.’
    ‘Is it about a book?’
    ‘No. It’s me. Billy Randall. You heard what—’
    ‘Billy?’ My knees felt weak. They are weak, generally, I have a problem with my cruciate ligaments. Weak er . ‘Yes . . . yes . . . I heard . . .’
    ‘So we should have a chat.’
    ‘Yes. No. It’s not really any of my—’
    ‘They’re letting me out of here. We should go for a coffee.’
    ‘Yes. No. I’m kind of busy. If you send me an e-mail, I’m sure—’
    ‘There’s a Starbucks across the road from you; say I see you there at three?’
    ‘I . . .’
    ‘Looking forward to it. I could just murder a frappuccino. Or you could do it