Phil Kurthausen - Sudden Death

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The clock is ticking on Erasmus Jones’ deadliest case yet… Jaded lawyer Erasmus Jones has been hired to protect the footballing world’s latest protégé – and while it’s a job he may not like, he can’t refuse. Thrust into the hedonistic world of the football elite, Erasmus discovers a sinister underbelly to the beautiful game, riddled with corruption, deceit… and murder.It’s his most high-profile case yet… and it should be enough. But when the only woman he has ever loved appears, begging for him to help her, Erasmus finds himself caught between two deadly cases: and his professional instincts tested more than ever before.With mere seconds on the clock, Erasmus must make a choice: put his client’s life on the line, or turn his back on his past. Because there can only be one winner… and the penalty could be death.

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The goons began to snigger.

‘Nothing, just leaving.’

Erasmus pulled Wayne out of the chair.

‘Rasmus, karate moves, I wanna see them now!’

‘Maybe later,’ said Erasmus, ‘you’re coming with me now.’

‘OK, but I feel sick.’

Erasmus put his arm around his shoulder and walked him outside.

The cold December air seemed to have a little sobering effect on Wayne and he managed to walk unaided to Erasmus’s car.

‘Get in, it’s unlocked.’

Wayne got in and slumped down into the passenger seat.

Erasmus turned up the heaters and set off. He selected the first Stone Roses album and slipped it into the single slot CD player.

The opening bars of ‘I Wanna Be Adored’ kicked in and the bass flooded the car. Wayne, who Erasmus thought had fallen asleep, began to hum along to the bass.

‘I love the Roses, my dad loved them. He was at Spike Island.’

Spike Island. A grotty piece of land stuck in the Mersey near Runcorn where the Stone Roses had held a legendary gig in 1991. Erasmus had been to the gig. It had been chaotic and the sound had been washed away by the winds swirling around the site. Somehow, it had become legendary, the nineties version of the Sex Pistols and the 100 Club.

‘I was there too, it was quite a day.’

‘Maybe, you saw my dad there,’

Wayne had opened his eyes now and was looking at Erasmus hopefully. Surely the kid didn’t think he had actually bumped into his father?

‘It’s a long time ago now but maybe, how old were you when he died?’

Wayne’s head fell back against the seat. He shut his eyes again.

‘I was eleven.’

‘I’m sorry, Wayne.’

Erasmus decided to take a calculated gamble, a dangerous one in the age of the internet. He lied.

‘My father died when I was a young boy too. It was tough growing up without him being around. Did you find that too?’

The truth was that his father was still very much alive and kicking. He was a retired journalist who lived in Oxford and who, a widower, was still, to a mixture of admiration and disgust on Erasmus’s part, very active on the senior dating scene.

Wayne gave a derisory snort. It wasn’t what Erasmus had hoped for.

‘My dad was a coward. He hanged himself in our shed in the back yard. He left me and Mum alone, the fucker.’

Erasmus felt his mouth open but then his brain applied the brake. He had been engaged by Ted to find out if there was a reason behind Wayne’s loss of form. Was it possible that there wasn’t anything untoward behind that loss of form, couldn’t it be the case that Wayne had a depressive tendency like he assumed his father must have done given he hanged himself? He was certainly drinking too much on his day off but didn’t a lot of teenagers when they got the chance? Erasmus had certainly spent many weekends in his local park as a teenager smoking illicit cigarettes and drinking cider. Maybe the email was just a red herring. It could just be the case that Wayne had slept with a couple of the girls who threw themselves at him and the other players but in the grand scheme of things, so what? He wasn’t married and, sure, Steph would be furious but it didn’t amount to blackmail type material surely? Erasmus was reaching the conclusion that what Everton Football Club had on their hands was a teenager going through a period of angst. Plus cą fucking change .

He turned to say something to Wayne but his eyes were closed and he was snoring.

Wayne slept all the way back to his house. When Erasmus reached Wayne’s street he found himself looking for the parked car across the street but it was gone.

This time when he hit the buzzer the gates opened straight away.

Steph came out and watched as Wayne staggered uneasily towards her like a newborn deer trying out its legs for the first time. She shook her head and then stood aside to let him in. She walked across to the car. Erasmus rolled down his window. She leaned down and nodded her head slowly.

‘Thank you.’

‘Not a problem,’ he said and was about to turn the ignition key when she placed her hand on his right arm and leaned in so close he could smell the sweetness of her body scent.

‘A deals a deal. I’ll be in touch. Have you got a card?’

Goosebumps formed at the back of Erasmus neck and then hurtled down his arms like they were in a race to get to Steph.

‘Sure.’ He dug out a card from the glove compartment and handed it to her.

She took it and placed it next to her mobile phone. She leaned in close.

‘I’ll call you.’

Erasmus just nodded. He knew if he spoke the lust caught in the back of his throat would be heard by her and he didn’t want to give her that victory. She let go of his arm and he pulled out of the drive, and headed back to Liverpool.

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