Bernard clapped. ‘That’s fantastic news.’
Pam, never one to display emotions, treated her daughter to a rare smile. ‘Would you like me to go with you and help you pack?’
‘It’s all right,’ Mathew said. ‘I’ll go with Mum. I want to get the rest of my stuff.’
Sonia nodded. ‘Thanks, Mathew. I’d like that.’
‘Have the police gone yet?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know if they found anything?’
‘Only in the shed.’
‘Is it all right if I have a look around the garden while we’re there?’
‘Why?’
‘To see if the police missed anything.’
‘I don’t think they would, lad,’ Bernard said. ‘They had a forensic team going over the place with a fine-tooth comb.’
‘I still want to look.’
Sonia touched his arm. ‘Of course you can.’
Mathew knew the chances of finding something incriminating were somewhere between slim and zero, but it was better to try and fail than to never try at all.
He would later come to wish that he’d never gone back to Bluebell Cottage.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jim sat in his flat smoking a spliff and adding fuel to the fire with a can of Strongbow Super. He was in a good mood, partly because of the drugs, and partly because events at the Book Café had gone much better than expected. Curtis, who had all the intelligence of a doormat, had surpassed expectations. Not only had he set fire to the place without getting caught, he’d turned the building into a burnt-out shell. After examining Curtis’s handiwork from the safe distance of the pub opposite, Bentley believed the building would never see a day’s business again.
‘When am I going to get my money?’ Curtis asked, stretching out like a cat lazing in the sun.
‘As soon as I’ve got it. But I want you to do something else first.’
‘Oh shit, man, I need the dough now.’
‘You threatening me, Curtis?’
‘No. I just—’
Bentley threw an empty can at him. ‘’Cos if you are, I’m gonna rearrange your ugly mug so your own mother won’t recognise you.’
‘It’s just I owe the Chisel Twins.’
‘How much?’
‘A grand.’
‘Tell you what, as soon as you complete this next job, I’ll settle up your bill with the Chisel Twins myself. Okay?’
‘You mean it, Jim?’
‘On my life.’
‘So, what do you want me to do?’
‘Fuck Shona.’
Curtis’s lips curled into a lopsided grin. ‘Very funny.’
‘Am I laughing?’
Curtis took a swig of his lager. ‘I can’t shag your bird, Jim.’
‘Course you can. She’s strapped to the bed and gagging for it. Well, she’s gagged to be exact.’
‘I don’t wanna fuck your bird, Jim. It don’t seem right.’
‘You turning up your nose at the offer of a free ride?’
‘No. But—’
‘Don’t you fancy her or something?’
Curtis stared at his beer can as if it might offer him advice. ‘It’s not that. I just don’t know if you’re being serious.’
‘Never been more serious in my life.’
‘I ain’t got a condom.’
‘So?’
‘What if I get her up the gut?’
‘Don’t worry about that. There’s always the morning-after pill.’
‘What if she doesn’t want me to do it?’
‘She’s a slag, Curtis. She’ll be well up for it.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yep. Now go fill your boots before I change my mind.’
Bentley watched Curtis head off towards the bedroom. He glanced at Jim one last time before opening the door.
‘Go on. Give her one for me.’
***
Half an hour later, Curtis reappeared in the front room. His face had a waxy sheen of sweat glistening on the skin, and his eyes appeared as if they were still in the bedroom.
Bentley popped the tab on another can. His last. He needed an alert mind to carry out the rest of his plan. ‘How was it?’
‘Good, thanks.’
‘Did the bed move for you?’
Curtis brayed laughter. ‘Nice one.’ He sat on the sofa and finished his can. ‘What’s happened to her face? It’s covered in bruises.’
‘She got lippy, so I had to put her in her place.’
‘Cool.’
‘That’s the thing with women, Curtis – they need to know the boundaries. If you let them step over the line, then that’s it! You’re in for a whole heap of trouble.’
‘What did she do wrong?’
‘Talked too much.’
Curtis nodded, as if that made perfect sense. ‘How long you gonna keep her strapped to the bed?’
‘As long as it takes for her to realise she needs to keep her big mouth shut.’
‘You might wanna give her some water, Jim. It’s roasting in that bedroom.’
‘And you might wanna keep your nose out of my affairs if you don’t want it broken.’
Curtis recoiled as if the words had physically assaulted him. ‘Is there anything else you want me to do?’
Bentley didn’t answer. He walked into the kitchen and returned with a large carving knife. ‘This baby could carve the meat right off the bone just by showing it the blade.’
Curtis’s eyes looked as if he didn’t doubt that for one moment.
‘Wassamatta, don’t you like knives?’
‘I do when they’re in a drawer.’
Bentley flipped the knife around and held it by the blade. Offered the handle to Curtis. ‘You feel the weight of that. It’s perfectly balanced.’
He took the knife and held it out in front of him. ‘Cool.’
‘You ever stabbed anyone, Curtis?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t like blood.’
‘Why?’
‘It gives me the willies.’
‘Like you just did to Shona?’
‘Huh?’
‘Gave her the willies.’
Curtis tried to laugh but only emitted a strange noise somewhere between a cackle and a whine.
‘Do you think I’ve ever killed anyone?’
Curtis’s eyes widened. ‘I don’t know. Have you?’
‘Twice. The first one was an accident. I strangled some tart I picked up on a one-night stand.’
‘How was it an accident?’
‘Because she was into all that choking bollocks, and it went too far.’
‘Jesus.’
‘But I meant to do the second one. He owed me money and kept fobbing me off with a load of crap about needing more time to pay.’
‘So you killed him?’
Bentley nodded. ‘Took the fucker round the back of the old Waitrose and slit his throat. Could say I bled him dry.’
This horrific news drained all the colour from Curtis’s face. He looked like a wannabe ghost. ‘And you got away with it?’