Mr. Suit Read Online Free Page A

the bed like it had taken a bite at her fingers.

Chapter 7
    W hoever
had last been in the mooring’s sanitary disposal shack needed shooting. Flecks
of shit and blood left all around the rim gave off the stink of a
sewerage/chemical mix.
    Liza
dropped the holding tank part of her own toilet, the Porta Potti, and reversed
back into the open air, gagging and covering her mouth, wondering how she was
going to cope.
    She
stood for a while enjoying the sweet smell of a nearby honeysuckle and
considered her options.
    A
flight to Brazil seemed very appealing. Problem was the insurance for Archie
would cost a bomb and there’d need to be special arrangements and everything.
Besides, Mr Suit would probably have the airports covered as soon as he found
out what was going on.
    Another
idea fluttering inside her head was to leave Archie outside the hospital with a
note around his neck, like Paddington Bear or a Victorian foundling on wheels
and in nappies. ‘Please look after this man’ or ‘Free to good home’.
    She
looked over to Archie, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he watched the world
go by from the front of the boat. It tugged on either a heart-string or a
tendon, which meant that leaving him alone out there was out of the question.
The poor bloke needed her. He would do until the end of his life.
    Which
led to plan C.
    Before
dragging Mr Suit’s brother to the shed, she’d had the idea of dropping him in
the canal. The same thing might work for Archie. With a couple of weights tied
to the chair, dumping him in the middle of the Maida Vale tunnel would mean he
wouldn’t be found for ages. At least until the dredgers went through next.
    She
looked over at her husband again, his head above the boat’s pointed bow with
its nameplate and the roses and castles he’d painted on when things were
different. This time it felt like her heart enlarged inside her, as if it were
putting pressure on the rest of her organs and wanting to push her insides out
of her mouth.
    Killing
Mr Suit’s brother was one thing, and not a good one, but there was no way she’d
manage to do away with her husband. Which was why they were in this mess in the
first place.
    There
was only one thing for it.
    She
took a lungful of air, held it in and went straight back in to the toilet. She
lifted the case that was the holding tank, balanced it on the side and
unscrewed the cap to let a stream of dark blue piss with its tiny bits of
mashed up toilet paper flow into the hole.
    As
she flushed it all away, it occurred to her that she might well be sending the
rest of her life down there with it.

Chapter 8
    T wo
nights they’d stayed at Little Venice, watching the tourists go by and catching
up with the boating gossip.
    Life
on the canals was lazy. Gentle. The pace of the traffic was only just faster
than Liza could walk.
    To
make the most of their location, Liza took Archie for walks, window shopping in
the boutiques and antique shops or stopping for drinks on the terraces of cafes
where the price of a coffee didn’t allow for much change from a note.
    Wherever
they happened to be, Charlie Suit phoned on the hour. He hadn’t left a single
message and that, somehow, made the calls hugely intimidating.
    Because
Little Venice was such a popular area, Liza felt increasingly exposed. She
decided it was time to head north. To Birmingham. For better or for worse.
    She
set off with no regrets, eyes fixed on the future and the two-hundred or so
locks she was going to have to get through without any help from a soul.
    Fate
seemed to turn against them from the off. They got stuck straight away behind
one of the party boats hired out for some corporate entertainment or other,
which plodded on in front of them like it was still being pulled by a horse.
Liza watched impatiently, the men in their casual smarts and the ladies in the
finest cocktail dresses with cardigans to cover the goose-bumps. The boat was
like the swimming swan, all grace above and all madness