Course I did. I just made it up to keep you in your place. ‘Murder’s easy when it’s just a random act. The filth don’t have nothing to go on. As long as you wear gloves and don’t leave any DNA at the scene, they’ve got no chance of tracing you.’
‘I’ve never really thought about it. I used to watch some of those crime programmes on the telly, but…’
‘It’s different in real life.’
‘How?’
‘Hard to explain. It gives you a better rush than drugs.’
‘Even speed?’
‘Makes speed look like a fucking snail.’
‘My uncle worked in an abattoir. But I don’t suppose it’s the same killing animals ’cos they’re for eating, anyway.’
‘And it’s legal.’
‘I wouldn’t wanna work in an abattoir.’
Bentley frowned. ‘Why?’
‘It’d put me off meat.’
Bentley laughed. ‘You’re fucking priceless.’
‘I’d better get going soon.’
‘You’re not finished yet.’
Curtis spread his arms. ‘But I’ve shagged Shona.’
‘That was pleasure, Curtis, not business.’
‘But I’ve got to run some errands for my mum.’
‘How old are you?’
‘Twenty-two.’
‘Then grow a pair of balls and tell your mummy to run her own errands.’
Curtis tried to hand the knife back to Bentley.
‘I don’t want it.’
‘Neither do I.’
‘But you’re gonna need it, Curtis.’
‘What for?’
Bentley stood. ‘Come with me.’ He led Curtis back to the bedroom. ‘Doesn’t she look a picture?’
Curtis didn’t answer.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing.’
‘If you’re feeling guilty about raping her, don’t. She ain’t gonna tell no one.’
Shona gawked at her two assailants, one eye hidden beneath a purple-black swelling. Her breathing was shallow, and sweat soaked her naked body. Bruises covered her arms and chest like a map of abuse.
‘Don’t you think you ought to let her go, Jim? She ain’t looking too clever, is she?’
Bentley stroked Shona’s hair. ‘She’s all right. Just a bit washed out, ain’t you, love?’
Shona tried to say something, but the duct tape covering her mouth stifled the words.
‘You ready to do the next thing on the list?’
‘I don’t wanna shag her again. I’m—’
‘You’re not going to.’
‘What then?’
Bentley pulled an air pistol out of the waistband of his jeans and aimed it at Curtis’s head. ‘I want you to kill her.’
‘Kill her?’
‘That’s what I said, Curtis. Kill the stupid bitch.’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘Course you can. It’s easy. Just stab her in the chest half a dozen times, and Shona will be a gonna.’ He bent the vowels to make the words rhyme.
Curtis shook his head. ‘No way.’
‘D’you want me to go to the filth and tell them you torched the bookshop?’
‘No.’
‘Caught you beating and raping my girlfriend?’
‘No.’
‘Or maybe you want me to call the Chisel Twins and tell them you’re round my flat?’
‘Please, Jim, don’t make me do this. I ain’t no killer.’
‘Or maybe you want a bullet between your eyes?’
Curtis’s eyes widened. ‘But why do you want to kill her?’
‘Because she needs silencing.’
‘Why?’
‘Because she knows too much.’
‘About what?’
‘Never you mind. The least you know, the better. I’m gonna lock you in here for ten minutes, then I’m coming back. Do a good job, and you’ll get your money. And a bonus.’
‘I can’t do this. I already told you I hate the sight of blood.’
‘You know something, Curtis?’
‘What?’
‘It’s a good job the likes of you weren’t all we had to rely on to defend this country from Hitler. No wonder England’s in decline with spineless wankers like you making up half the population.’
‘I can’t help the way I am.’
‘You’ve got ten minutes, then it’s goodnight Vienna. And don’t think I won’t plug a hole in your head, ’cos I will. Gladly.’
He closed the door and locked it before the wimp responded. If this went as planned, he would get Curtis done for Shona’s rape and murder and silence the bitch once and for all. Pollock’s DNA was already waiting in Shona’s love tunnel for the forensic dudes to discover. The cops would have him bang to rights, so to speak. And serves the dirty little rapist right. If anyone deserved to be locked up for life, it was Curtis Pollock.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
They pulled into the driveway at Bluebell Cottage. Mathew’s demeanour changed from apprehensive to withdrawn. His hand tapped against the side of the car and his foot pressed down on an imaginary brake pedal in the foot well. He gawped at the front door and imagined Jim Bentley standing there, telling him to confess to Jodie’s murder.
Sonia applied the handbrake. ‘Are you okay?’
He didn’t answer.
‘You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to.’
‘I never did it.’
‘I know you didn’t.’
‘Jim Bentley killed her.’
‘Just let the police worry about that, Mathew.’
‘If they know my hands are too big to match the marks around her neck, why don’t they check Bentley’s?’
Sonia rested a hand on his arm. ‘I’m sure they will.’
‘Or search his flat for the gloves?’
‘Come on. Don’t upset yourself.’
‘It’s not fair that Jodie’s dead.’
‘I know.’
‘I’ll bet it was Bentley who burned down the bookshop.’
Sonia opened the driver’s door. ‘He’ll have made mistakes. Idiots like him always do.’
Mathew didn’t think the house seemed like his home anymore. It was just a building with a lot of terrible memories locked up inside.
‘Do you want to come in or not?’
Mathew nodded. He had to do this. Try to find one of Jim Bentley’s mistakes.
The house felt cool inside, almost as if it had been frozen in time. His Burberry coat hung on the stand at the foot of the stairs. He would need to take it to Granddad’s with him. And his stab vest along with the rest of his clothes and the umbrella. Not that he had any intention of going outside again unless it was absolutely necessary. Now the Book Café was gone, Mum would have a lot more time to run errands. Pick up Tortilla’s food and get the daily paper from Abbasi’s.
‘Are you okay?’ Sonia asked.
‘I’m gonna go to my room and pack the rest of my belongings before I look in the garden.’