Read Online The Dying Hours by Mark Billingham - Free Book Online

One of the few crumbs of comfort Thorne had gained from his move to uniform was that he would no longer have to deal with the one senior officer he had come closest to thumping during his years on the Murder Squad. The unctuous weasel who had taken sitting on the fence to Olympic heights and who returned Thorne’s evident antipathy with interest. Thorne had been horrified to discover, within a day or two of taking up his new post, that the chief super working south of the river was that very same weasel.
    Trevor bloody Jesmond.
    ‘I understand you’ve been rather overstepping your boundaries,’ Jesmond said. His tone was that unique mixture of emotions that Thorne knew only too well. Disgust at the behaviour and unbridled delight at being able to stamp on whoever was responsible. ‘Some things never change, do they?’
    ‘Been talking to Neil Hackett then,’ Thorne said.
    ‘It doesn’t matter.’
    ‘That’s a yes then.’
    ‘It doesn’t matter who I’ve been talking to, because now I’m talking to you.’
    ‘I thought we could be looking at a murder.’
    ‘Yes, I know.’
    ‘That it might be part of a pattern.’
    ‘You thought wrong, didn’t you?’
    Thorne swallowed. ‘Looks like it.’
    ‘Besides which, that’s not your job,’ Jesmond said. ‘Much as you might wish it still were.’
    The man was strictly a by-the-book merchant, so Thorne had asked himself what on earth
Jesmond
could have done to find himself working on Borough. Had he been caught with the Commander’s wife? Mother? Dog? It was far more likely that he had requested the transfer purely out of a desire to make Thorne’s life as miserable as possible.
    He was extremely good at it.
    ‘I get that,’ Thorne said. He turned and saw that Helen was watching him. If he appeared less than delirious a few minutes ago, he wondered what his face was showing now.
    ‘Good. You’ve been warned.’ Jesmond let that sink in, then chuckled. Fingernails on a blackboard. ‘Just like old times.’
    Thorne grunted.
    ‘Best not make a habit of it though, eh? You might not relish what you’re doing at the moment, but trust me, you’d enjoy being a sergeant a damn sight less.’
    When Jesmond had hung up, Thorne walked back to the bench and sat down. He picked up a paper, did nothing with it.
    ‘All right?’
    Helen had clearly heard enough to get the gist. ‘Jesmond,’ Thorne said.
    ‘Ah…’
    ‘Yeah, well, that’s me told.’ Thorne opened his paper. ‘Hackett clearly had a major problem with me going across that bridge, so MIT is now strictly off-limits.’
    ‘This still about that double suicide?’
    Thorne continued to turn the pages.
    ‘You never finished telling me about what happened with you and Louise,’ Helen said. ‘What we were talking about before.’
    Thorne shook his head. ‘I think the moment’s gone, don’t you?’
    They sat in silence for a few minutes. Helen read her paper while Thorne stared towards the playground, every shout and squeal cutting right through him. His phone chimed in his pocket and he took his time reaching for it, guessing that Jesmond had not finished with him.
    The text was from Hendricks.
    Cooper paperwork done
.
    A few minutes later, Thorne said, ‘I think I might go out for a drink with Phil a bit later.’
    ‘Yeah, OK.’
    ‘I’ll probably stay at the flat.’
    ‘Makes sense,’ Helen said. ‘You don’t need to drive.’
    Thorne nodded. ‘I wouldn’t be very good company anyway.’
    Helen looked up as Alfie came running across. He wrapped himself around Thorne’s leg and wiped a runny nose against his jacket.
    She said, ‘Whatever you think.’

NINE
    He’s heading west for this one.
    The travelling doesn’t bother him a great deal. He’d always known he’d need to do a fair amount of running around and, besides, it gives him a chance to see a bit more of the city. He’d missed London. Missed it more than some of his family in the end, but that wasn’t much of a contest.