TT13 Time of Death

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TT13 Time of Death Page 38

by Mark Billingham


  He’d give it to her another day.

  Standing alone in the dark, wondering how she was, he decided that he might not draw her attention to the newest charm on the bracelet. A pair of dice had seemed so right, so appropriate in light of what had happened, of everything they’d talked about. Suddenly he felt every bit as clumsy as his father. It seemed tasteless.

  Luck was something they were pushing.

  He stepped out on to the path, turned when he heard a man’s voice say his name …

  The footwork and the swing were spot on.

  The first blow smashed Alan’s phone into a dozen or more pieces, the second did much the same to his skull and those that came after were about nothing so much as exercise.

  It took half a minute for the growl to die in Lee’s throat.

  The blood on the branch, on the grass to either side of the path, on his training shoes, looked black in the near total darkness.

  Lee bent down and picked up the dead man’s arm. He wondered if his team had managed to hold on to their one goal lead as he began dragging the body into the undergrowth.

  *

  Graham had run until he felt his lungs about to give up the ghost. He was no fitter than many of those he treated. Those whose hearts were marbled with creamy lines of fat, like cheap off-cuts.

  He dropped down on to a bench to recover, to reflect on what had happened in the woods. To consider his rotten luck. If that man hadn’t come along when he had …

  A young woman with Mediterranean features was waiting to cross the road a few feet from where he was sitting. She was taking keys from her bag, probably heading towards the flats opposite.

  She glanced in his direction and he dropped his elbows to his knees almost immediately. Looked at the pavement. Made sure she didn’t get a good look at his face.

  The next High Barnet train was still eight minutes away.

  Rachel stood on the platform, her legs still shaking, the burning in her breast a little less fierce with every minute that passed. The pain had been good. It had stopped her thinking too much; stopped her wondering. She sought a little more of it, thrusting her hand into her pocket until she found her wedding ring, then driving the edge of it hard against the fingernail until she felt it split.

  Alan had thought it odd that she still took the ring off even after she’d told him the truth, but it made perfect sense to her. Its removal had always been more about freedom than deceit.

  An old woman standing next to her nudged her arm and nodded toward the electronic display.

  Correction. High Barnet. 1 min …

  ‘There’s a stroke of luck,’ the woman said.

  Rachel looked at the floor. She didn’t raise her head again until she heard the train coming.

  New from Mark Billingham

  and My Darling Clementine

  Available on CD and download

  from 21 May 2015

 

 

 


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