Read Online The Language of the Dead by Stephen Kelly - Free Book Online

command pipeline somehow had hastened Wells to the grave. But the main point of contention between him and Rivers had been Private Eric Parker, a cocksure eye-winker and smoker of fags, and Rivers’s best friend. Rivers had talked Parker into joining the London Regiment and therefore (or so Lamb would eventually come to discover) felt duty-bound to protect Parker from the ravages of the war, an impossible task. For his part, Parker had felt no enmity toward Lamb and Lamb had come to see Parker as one of his best and most dependable men. But Parker
had
been killed and Rivers had held him—Lamb—responsible.
    Rivers spoke first, his head turned to the window. “You’re married with a daughter.”
    Lamb wondered how Rivers knew. Obviously he’d done some checking.
    â€œYes. You?”
    â€œMarried to the job.”
    â€œThat has advantages.”
    â€œIt does.”
    They drove in silence for ten minutes, Lamb doing his best to concentrate on the road. But he hadn’t volunteered to drive Rivers to Winchester in order to fail to divine why Rivers suddenly had parachuted into Hampshire. He didn’t want a showdown with Rivers, merely an explanation.
    â€œWhy are you here, Harry?” Lamb asked.
    Rivers shrugged. “I was transferred, wasn’t I?” He looked at Lamb. “War shortages in the south—that’s what they told me, anyway. And because I’m a good soldier, when they told me to move, I saluted and did my duty.”
    Lamb knew those last words were meant to pierce him and, to a degree, they hit the mark. “But you haven’t answered my question,” he said.
    â€œHaven’t I?”
    â€œI assume you knew that I was here.”
    â€œI knew. But I had no choice.” Rivers smiled his lopsided grin. “No reason to lie, after all. Fact is, I bollixed a case. I got a little impatient with the way things were going and pressed the matter; broke into a bloke’s house and got the goods. But it wasn’t allowed into evidence, so the bastard is a free man today.” He shrugged. “My ‘mistake,’” he added, in a tone that suggested that he hadn’t really considered it a mistake. “Then they suddenly needed men down south and the man I worked for up there saw his chance to be rid of me.”
    â€œDoes Harding know about your mistake?”
    â€œHe knows. But he decided he’d rather have an experienced man with a blemish than someone green. It also didn’t hurt that the man I worked for in Warwickshire is one of Harding’s old chums.” He smiled again—bitterly, Lamb thought. “Lucky for me, eh?”
    â€œA second chance, then?” Lamb asked.
    â€œYou might say that.”
    That seemed to end their initial skirmish. They drove the rest of the way to Winchester in silence, each wondering what the other was thinking.

    Wallace walked alone through the blacked-out streets of Winchester to The Fallen Diva.
    He arrived a little after nine and was pleasantly surprised to find the woman he’d seen earlier that day sitting alone at the same table,the same half-expectant look on her face. Her purse was on the table, along with a half pint of beer and an ashtray partially filled with stubbed-out cigarettes. As Wallace passed her, he caught the scent of her perfume and glanced at her; she met his eyes and then glanced away. He was thirsty and hungry—hungry for something he hadn’t had enough of in too long a time.
    He went to the bar and ordered a pint. He told himself that he would limit himself to three beers. “Who’s the bird at the table?” he asked the man behind the bar.
    â€œNo idea. Never saw her before until three days ago. Just sits there, all alone.”
    â€œIs she waiting for someone?”
    â€œIf she is, he hasn’t shown up.”
    â€œAny blokes try it on with her?”
    â€œOne did last night. But he gave up.”
    Wallace