“Thankfully that’s for you lot to determine.” She placed her glass on the table then rubbed her palms up and down her thighs as if to wash the case off her hands.
Lucky Marla—her part was done.
“My theory is she was selected,” Shaw said. “Groomed by this new fella her mother said she had. And it’s obvious that fella is the bloke we’re after. The tarantula thief. He made her feel safe, secure—had to have if she let him in so late at night. Maybe he gave her no reason to mistrust him. Clever bastard.”
“Callous underneath, though, surely,” Marla said.
“Maybe, maybe not, and I know that sounds nuts. You’d think to be a killer they have to be mean, to love hurting, but some of them have other reasons.” Shaw shrugged. “And sometimes their reasons for doing this kind of crap would surprise you. It’s just an act they’re compelled to do, like we’re compelled to brush our teeth every day.”
“Most of us.” Marla shuddered. “You should see the state of some corpses’ teeth.”
“No thanks.” Burgess leant back, lifting one foot to rest it on the rung joining the table legs. He stared into space, then, “Anything from under her fingernails?”
“Nope.” Marla shook her head. “Honestly, it appears like a cut-and-dried overdose, although I’d say the drug was administered by someone else because of where the needle was inserted. Plus, if she had managed that feat, she’d have died very quickly, so why choose to die naked in an alley—and where is the needle? She’d have been holding it or dropped it when she nodded out. And why put a tarantula in her own mouth?”
“True.” Shaw drank. The beer was ice-cold, and condensation from the outside of the glass dripped over his fingers. A droplet plopped onto his trousers, and he shivered. “Something for the subconscious to ponder overnight.”
It was his signal for work to end and leisure time to begin. He switched his mind off, able to do so now he had as much information as he was going to get this evening. It could all wait until tomorrow.
“Yes,” Burgess said. “That’ll do. Got to cut off at some point, haven’t we.”
Shaw wondered whether that was just lip service. Burgess switching off didn’t happen often.
Everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts.
Marla finished her wine. “Well, seeing as we’re all having such a scintillating time sitting in silence—I may as well do that at home, no offence. Besides, the characters in that book are calling to me. I left them in the bedroom and I’m dying to get back. Learn some tips.” She laughed and rose. “See you when I see you. Woof woof!” She winked at Burgess and walked off, laughing.
What the fuck was that all about? Woof woof?
Shaw opened his mouth to speak.
Burgess held up one hand. “Don’t even ask. Do we stay here and switch to Coke because I’m driving, or shall we pick up a takeaway and go to my place?”
“Takeaway sounds good.” Shaw finished his pint.
“Chinese, Indian, or something else?” Burgess stood and put his glass on the table beside Marla’s, froth clinging to the inside.
“Whatever you like.” Shaw got up and took his glass to the bar. Knowing Burgess, he’d get the Xbox out and they’d have a late night.
Looks like I’ll be kipping on his sofa then.
Chapter Nine
He stood in the darkness of the tunnel at one end, observing the others a few feet away. They were a motley crew, their clothes dirty and wrinkled, although they weren’t rags. A shopping trolley pilfered from Sainsbury’s stood beside the bunch of bodies, filled with all manner of shit that must have been collected on their travels. He imagined pushing it around all day, adding to it bit by bit, the rain of earlier soaking most of the contents. Did they share the responsibility for the bloody thing?
A fire had been lit, and flames danced, throwing light and shadow over the people’s drawn-up legs as they sat on the ground against the tunnel wall. Was the temperature enough to warm, or did the cold air snatch any comfort away before it had a chance to reach them? It troubled him, people living like this, and troubled him even more that he had made friends with one of them only to—
No. No sympathy allowed. It was something that had to be done. For his peace of mind. He couldn’t go on living this way, out of sorts and unsettled. But then the unsettled feeling had been warded off somewhat when he’d come up with his recent plan. Her and The Man had filled his mind before they’d stopped being in his life, but their removal from this world had given him a measure of peace. Unfortunately, though, that peace hadn’t lasted longer than sixteen years, and the only way he could think of restoring it was to go through it all over again. Finding her substitute. Finding The Man’s.
The Man Point Two was over there with the other tramps, laughing his head off, even though he clearly had nothing to laugh about, being homeless and all that. But maybe The Man Point Two had read some of those Facebook memes at some point in his former life and had chosen this path, shunning the rat race and following what his heart dictated. Maybe the responsibilities of normal living hadn’t been for him and he’d left it all behind, a willing participant in the life of a nomad. No roots. No ties except those he created.
It was a sad affair all the same.
There were four of them, all men, and for a moment he
