The Black Book Read Online Free Page A

no’ leave that outside?’
    ‘Not around here.’
    Torrance turned back to Rebus. ‘Did you see thon?’
    Rebus merely smiled. He felt good after the massage. ‘No one brings anything small into a bar around here.’ He watched Deek Torrance grunt. Yes, he remembered him now, all right. He’d gotten fatter and balder, his face was roughened and much fleshier than it had been. He didn’t even sound the same, not exactly. But there was that one characteristic: the Torrance grunt. A man of few words, Deek Torrance had been. Not now, though, now he had plenty to say.
    ‘So what do you do, Deek?’
    Torrance grinned. ‘Seeing you’re a copper I better not say.’ Rebus bided his time. Torrance was drunk to the point of slavering. Sure enough, he couldn’t resist. ‘I’m in buying and selling, mostly selling.’
    ‘And what do you sell?’
    Torrance leaned closer. ‘Am I talking to the polis or an old pal?’
    ‘A pal,’ said Rebus. ‘Strictly off-duty. So what do you sell?’
    Torrance grunted. ‘Anything you like, John. I’m sort of like Jenners department store … only I can get things they can’t.’
    ‘Such as?’ Rebus was looking at the clock above the bar. It couldn’t be that late, surely. They always ran the clock ten minutes fast here, but even so.
    ‘Anything at all,’ said Torrance. ‘Anything from a shag to a shooter. You name it.’
    ‘How about a watch?’ Rebus started winding his own. ‘Mine only seems to go for a couple of hours at a stretch.’
    Torrance looked at it. ‘Longines,’ he said, pronouncing the word correctly, ‘you don’t want to chuck that. Get it cleaned, it’ll be fine. Mind you, I could probably part-ex it against a Rolex …?’
    ‘So you sell dodgy watches.’
    ‘Did I say that? I don’t recall saying that. Anything , John. Whatever the client wants, I’ll fetch it for him.’ Torrance winked.
    ‘Listen, what time do you make it?’
    Torrance shrugged and pulled up the sleeve of his jacket. He wasn’t wearing a watch. Rebus was thinking. He’d kept his appointment with the Grinder, Deek happy to wait for him in the anteroom. And afterwards they’d still had time for a pint or two before he had to make his way home. They’d had two … no, three drinks so far. Maybe he was running a bit late. He caught the barman’s attention and tapped at his wrist.
    ‘Twenty past eight,’ called the barman.
    ‘I’d better phone Patience,’ said Rebus.
    But someone was using the public phone to cement some romance. What’s more, they’d dragged the receiver into the ladies’ toilet so that they could hear above the noise from the bar. The telephone cord was stretched taut, ready to garotte anyone trying to use the toilets. Rebus bided his time, then began staring at the wall-mounted telephone cradle. What the hell. He pushed his finger down on the cradle, released it, then moved back into the throng of drinkers. A young man appeared from inside the ladies’ toilet and slammed the receiver hard back into its cradle. He checked for change in his pocket, had none, and started to make for the bar.
    Rebus moved in on the phone. He picked it up, but could hear no tone. He tried again, then tried dialling. Nothing. Something had obviously come loose when the man had slammed the receiver home. Shite on a stick. It was nearly half past eight now, and it would take fifteen minutes to drive back to Oxford Terrace. He was going to pay dearly for this.
    ‘You look like you could use a drink,’ said Deek Torrance when Rebus joined him at the bar.
    ‘Know what, Deek?’ said Rebus. ‘My life’s a black comedy.’
    ‘Oh well, better than a tragedy, eh?’
    Rebus was beginning to wonder what the difference was.
    He got back to the flat at twenty past nine. Probably Patience had cooked a meal for the four of them. Probably she’d waited fifteen minutes or so before eating. She’d have kept his meal warm for another fifteen minutes, then dumped it. If it was fish, the