Книга Dead Men's s Boots — читать онлайн бесплатно полностью

Whatever they let me do for Myriam, or tried to stop me from doing, I was done. I was all done.’

Covington looked at me bleakly. ‘Another drink?’

‘No.’

‘No. Not for me, either, I guess. I can see the way you’re looking at me, Castor. I would have killed you for that once.’

‘It’s your party, Aaron. It’s been your party all along.’

He nodded. ‘Yeah, it has. What time is it?’

‘About five-thirty.’

‘The next shift of nurses comes in at six. I need to make sure they all clock in: if someone doesn’t make it, I have to call the service.

After that, I’m yours. We’ll go to where Myriam is. We’ll sort this.’

‘Fine.’ I pulled myself wearily to my feet. Covington could have saved his effort: breaking the window hadn’t done anything to clear the air in here. I crossed to the bar, found the hammer wrapped in bubble plastic behind it and hefted it onto my shoulder. ‘I’ll wait for you in the car. Come on out whenever you’re ready.’

Retracing my steps through the maze, I came back out onto the driveway and climbed into the car.

The form-fitted leather was way too comfortable and I dozed off into uneasy dreams. John Gittings was in them: so was Gary Coldwood. When a hand on my shoulder – the one that Todd had stabbed me in earlier that evening – woke me back into the world, cold sweat slicked my body from head to foot.

It was Covington, and he was already in the passenger seat.

‘Nice car,’ he said, without much enthusiasm. ‘Did it belong to the dead woman in the back seat?’

‘Demon,’ I corrected him.

‘Yeah, it’s hers. And the rumours of her death are usually exaggerated.’

‘Whenever you’re ready, Castor.’

I turned the key in the ignition. I didn’t think I’d ever be ready. But even in the cold, damp, misty pre-dawn after a night of bloodletting and pain, you can always rely on Italian engineering. The Maserati started first time, and I eased her out through the gates.

26

Sue Book greeted the sight of her fallen lover with a wail of anguish: then she wrested Juliet’s body out of my hands and took her away from me into another room – even Sue could carry Juliet’s negligible bulk without strain – and kicked the door shut behind her.

I took that to mean that if we wanted tea and biscuits we’d have to rustle them up for ourselves.

But Covington was hungry for something else entirely, and he wasn’t in the mood for delayed gratification. ‘Where is she?’ he demanded, looking peremptorily around the small hall.