The McDead

Начало книги

‘Am I dying?’

Answer that. Do you lie big and say, like in the movies, ‘Naw, it’s just a scratch,’? Or, clutch his hand real tight and say, ‘I ain’t letting you go, bro’?

Chief Inspector Roberts was a professional; a professional liar, among other things. It didn’t teach you that in the police manual. No, that came with promotion. He considered all the lines he could use. What he said was, ‘You’re dying.’

Roberts had got the call at three in the morning. The hour of death. Coming reluctantly out of sleep, he muttered, ‘This better be bloody good.’ And heard, ‘James!’

No one used his Christian name, not even his wife. He said, ‘Tony … Good Lord … where are you? D’ya know what time it is?’ And heard a sad laugh.

Then: ‘I didn’t ring to ask the time. I’m hurt … I’m hurt pretty bad.’

He sounded hurt, his speech was coming through slow and laboured. Eventually, Roberts pinned down an address, said, ‘Don’t move, I’m on me way.’

Читать дальше →