Dead Scared

MARK JOESBURY SWITCHED on the light and pushed back the bedcovers. The room was cold: he slept with the window open summer and winter alike. And it was full of light. His bedroom wasn’t directly overlooked and he rarely bothered pulling down the blinds. When he couldn’t sleep, most nights these days, he liked to watch the moonlight playing around the room, listen to the traffic outside, see the shadows ebb and flow around the walls.

He got up, used the loo and ran a glass of water. As he drank, he realized the usual headache had kicked in already. He’d developed a constant, niggling cough from the bottom of his chest that his doctor told him was a sure sign he was drinking too much. He’d stop, no problem, once he got back to work properly. Once he got over this stupid obsession with Lacey Flint.

And he’d made a good start on that last one, what with dragging her into his latest case.

The computer in his tiny spare bedroom was never switched off. He tapped the space bar to restore the screen and typed out a quick email. Two words.

You awake?

The answer came back in seconds.

Yup.

Joesbury picked up his phone and pressed speed dial 4. Speed dial 3 got him Dana Tulloch’s mobile, speed dial 2 the house where his eight-year-old son lived with his ex-wife. The man on the end of speed dial 4 answered quickly.

‘What’s up?’ he said.

‘She’ll do it,’ Joesbury replied.

‘Good stuff.’ Soft noises in the background, as if someone was eating.

‘I’m not happy,’ said Joesbury.

‘We’ve discussed this.’ A low-pitched moan.

‘We shouldn’t keep her in the dark.’

‘She knows as much as she needs to. Decision made. You been on YouPorn lately?’

Joesbury’s skin was starting to goose-pimple. ‘Can’t say I have,’ he told his boss.

‘Check out Dirty Brunette Finds New Use For Her Tongue.’

‘You need to get a life, guv. And a girlfriend.’

‘Could say the same about you, buddy. See you in the morning.’

Joesbury put the phone down and walked back to his bedroom. Yeah, he needed a life. And a nice uncomplicated girlfriend. Someone like a nurse, or an air stewardess. What he wanted was Lacey. He was still carrying his phone. His finger hovered over speed dial 1. They’d spoken fewer than ten minutes ago. She’d be awake. He got into bed and pulled the quilt round his shoulders. The phone lay beside him on the pillow.

He knew he wasn’t going to call.