Mark Billingham - Lazybones

'So where does this nutter fit in?'

Thorne put down his knife and fork. There was half a pizza left but he'd had enough. 'That's what I was thinking. Part of him is organised. The letters to the men in prison. Dodd needs to be got rid of, so he gets rid of him. The washing line, the lack of forensics, the photos he sent to me…

'He's getting off on that, definitely…'

'Why beat the bloke half to death though? Dodd's face looked like cheap mince. Why not just smash him across the back of the head then string him up?' A waitress was hovering, trying not to earwig. Thorne held up his plate. She took it gingerly and moved quickly away. 'At some level, they're always angry, you know? I haven't met a killer yet who wasn't pissed off somewhere about something.' Thorne downed the last of his beer. He swallowed, seeing the bodies of Welch and Remfry, the mess that had been made of their necks. Of their inside.

'This bloke, though? He's off the fucking scale…',

'You doing anything tonight?' Hendricks wiped his mouth. 'I could come over.'

'What?'

Hendricks glanced across to where the waitresses were gathered near the till. 'I'm changing the subject. Before they call the police.'

'They're staring because of what you look like, mate, not because of our interesting table conversation. And no, you can't come over. I'm meeting someone a lot better looking than you.'

'Surely not.'

'With no embarrassing piercings…'

Hendricks grinned. 'You never know. She might have them in special, secret places.'

The waitress was there again. She took the plate from in front of Hendricks. He'd left a perfect ring of pizza crust.

'You won't get curly hair,' Thorne said.

Hendricks ran a hand across his shaved head. 'With the look I'm cultivating, that's not really a problem…'

The afternoon had bled into the evening and by the time Thorne pushed through to where Eve was sitting, at a small table next to the cigarette machine, it was almost last orders. Plenty of time to get through a bottle of wine between them. For Thorne to apologise for messing her about, and for Eve to tell him he was being stupid. More than enough time for Thorne to tell her almost nothing about the sort of day he'd had.

It was a small, friendly pub near the Hackney Empire. They stepped out on to Mare Street and looked up and down the road. They fastened unnecessary buttons on jackets, studied parked cars, filling up a suddenly awkward moment.

Eve stepped over to him, put her hands on his shoulders. 'Now, about that snog…'

Thorne didn't need asking twice.

They kissed, his hand's moving around her waist and hers to the back of his head and neck. She bit softly on his lower lip. He pushed the tip of his tongue into the gap between her teeth. Then his mouth widened into a grin and they leaned away from each other.

'I knew you were well up for it,' Thorne said. She dropped her hand down, gave his backside a good hard squeeze. 'I'm well up for anything.'

They were a few minutes' walk from Eve's flat A short bus or cab journey from Thorne's. This wasn't the reason for the uncertainty which Eve saw in Thorne's expression.

'You still haven't bought a new bed, have you?' she said. Thorne tried his best to look like a guilty schoolboy. He imagined that it made him look endearing. 'I haven't had time…'

She grabbed his hand and they began to walk.

'I've only really had last Sunday and there was all manner of shit that needed doing.' Thorne decided not to elaborate. He didn't explain that the shit in question had involved replacing his stereo system and those twenty-five or so CDs that he really couldn't do without. Spending his nights curled up on the sofa as he was, some people might have questioned his priorities. With the prospect of a night curled up with Eve Bloom looking distinctly achievable, even he had to agree that they seemed completely bonkers.

They walked a little way up Mare Street and then turned left, crossing the railway line and cutting across London Fields. The night wasn't as muggy as some had been recently, but it was still warm. There were plenty of people around.

'You're not waiting for the insurance, are you?' Eve asked suddenly.

'What?'

'To pay for a new bed.'

Thorne laughed. 'I think I can run to a new bed. It's actually only a new mattress so it won't break the bank. I'll need the insurance to sort out a new car though. I'm getting pissed off with buses, and bangers from the car-pool…'

'What are you going to get?'

Thorne wasn't sure whether he'd spent more time the previous week on the phone chasing the insurance company or sitting at his kitchen table poring over car magazines. 'I'm not really bothered,' he said.

Eve leaned in close to Thorne to let a jogger go past. 'Do coppers fiddle their insurance like everybody else?'

'Well, fiddle is putting it a bit strong. I may have got the make and model of the stereo ever so slightly wrong. All right, and the price. I might have thrown the odd boxed set in when I was doing my CD inventory, but luck 'em, I probably forgot stuff as well.'

They walked on in silence for a minute or so and then stopped at the edge of the park. They watched a group of lads having a kick about, floodlighting courtesy of a couple of lamp-post; and a full moon.

Thorne remembered the game he'd watched just over a week earlier.

The park near the hotel in Slough. That one had been just before a post-mortem…

'There was another body today,' Thorne said. 'Well, last night and today. That's why I had to cancel.'

Eve squeezed his hand. 'Is it the same man? The one who left the message on my machine?'

They moved away from the game and out on to the road that ran parallel to the one where Eve lived and worked.

'He kills men who have assaulted women,' Thorne said. 'Who've raped them and been to prison for it. The one we found yesterday was slightly different, but that's basically what he does. Fucked if I know why he does it, or when he's going to do it again, and fucked if I know how I'm going to stop him.'

'So don't.'

Thorne laughed. Stared at the pavement. Stepped around the dogshit. 'I'm not the one who decides…'

'It's not like he's chopping up old ladies, is it?'

They turned on to a mall side street, and walked slowly up the middle of the road.

Hand in hand, at arm's length.

'I'm always reading about how stretched police resources are,' Eve said. 'So why not use them on something a bit more worthwhile?'

'More worthwhile than a murderer?'

'Yeah, but look at who he's murdering…'

Thorne took a deep breath. He shouldn't have said anything. He did not want to get into this. 'Look, whatever you think about what those men had done, whatever any of us thinks, they'd been to prison for it. I haven't got a lot of respect for the legal system, but surely…'

'All right. Just think of this bloke as cutting reoffending rates then.'

Thorne looked at her. She was smiling, but there was something set around her eyes. She clearly felt strongly about what she was saying, and Thorne knew that it was tough to argue with. 'I can't think like that, Eve. I can't go down that road…'

'As a police officer, you mean? Or just.., personally?'

They emerged from the side street. Eve's shop stood in darkness on the corner opposite. Thorne's change of gear was as grinding as the one he'd picked Hendricks up for at lunchtime.

'Listen, just how much of a problem would it really be with Denise? If I was to stay?'

Eve sighed heavily. 'I told you. She gets a bit weird…'

'Aren't there nights when she's not there? Doesn't she ever stay at Ben's?' Eve shook her head. 'Why not?'

'I don't know. He's just as batty as she is. Come on, you've seen them together…'

They walked past the shop, stopped at Eve's doorstep. Eve reached into her bag for the door keys.