Bad Samaritan Read Online Free PDF Page B

‘L.M.A.O.’
    â€˜Don’t let the door hit your arse on the way out,’ I say going back to the screen, determined I’m not going to ask him what those four letters stand for.
    Ten minutes later and my eyes are rolling in my head with tiredness. I close the lid of the laptop and then go round the flat turning off all the lights and switches. In my bedroom I throw my shirt in the wash basket along with my socks and boxers. My trousers I throw over an exercise bike I bought recently in a moment of full-on insanity. I’ve used it once. For five minutes. And now it has become a very expensive clothes stand.
    Lights out, alarm on my ancient mobile set for 7am, and I’m under the quilt and asleep in moments.
    * * *
    I wake with a start, heart thumping. I was dreaming. Can’t remember what it was about, but I feel that my cheeks are wet as if I ’d been crying, and the feeling of menace lingers as I walk through to the bathroom for a piss.
    I tuck it away in that place where all my unwelcome thoughts hide.
    Back in bed and I’m lying staring at the black space in front of my eyes. I’m wide awake now. I get back out of bed and go through to the living room. Naked, I stand at the window and look up and down the street. Every window is in darkness. Other people next to their loved ones, safe in the hum-drum. Completely unmindful of the dangers around them and the men and women like me who keep them safe.
    Taking a deep breath, I dampen down the feeling of loneliness that is my nightly companion. As usual, Theresa’s face pops into my head. That fat prick of a husband will be spooning into her back, still with no clue that she and I had an affair and that I could well be the father of his twins.
    Shut it, McBain. That way lies madness.
    I hear the scuff and echo of footsteps outside. I look along, and to the left I see a man staggering along the street. He’s half-singing, half-mumbling, doing the drunk’s dance. Two steps forward, one step back and then one to the side. At this speed he’ll be sober by the time he gets home.
    He finds a note and bellows it. Then tells himself to shhh. ‘People are sleeping,’ he shouts and then giggles. I shake my head. Glasgow has all different categories of drunk. This man obviously gets his happy on when he’s full of booze.
    I’ve had enough of the pantomime, so I turn and move over to the sofa. The skin on my back flinches from the chill of the leather when I sit down. I lift the lid of the laptop and decide to have another look through Aileen Banks’s life. There must be a clue in here somewhere.
    My mobile chimes. It’s through in the bedroom. Who the hell is contacting me at this time of night? The need to know gets the better of me, and I walk through to fetch it. I have a new text. From Maggie.
    â€˜Having trouble sleeping again?’
    I’ve given up asking her how she knows this stuff. She’s intuitive she tells me. She feels things. She also has a thing for me. We’ve acted on it a couple of times. The first time was a drunken disaster on my part, and the second time was an emotional disaster for us both, so she decided she only wants to be my mate while I’m still “besotted” – her word – with someone else.
    I text back. ‘Yeah, thinking of you. It’s keeping me awake.’
    Her reply is immediate. ‘Just have a wank then.’
    â€˜Nah. I’m saving my man juice for womankind.’
    â€˜How generous. Just a shame none of us appreciate your sacrifice.’
    I type ‘ G.T.F.’ Add a kiss and then send.
    â€˜hehehe. You need to talk, big guy, you know where I am.’
    I shut my phone down and walk back through to the living room. If I had any sense I would convince Maggie I didn’t care for Theresa and do my very best to make her happy.
    Back at the laptop and I look through Aileen’s files. Her word documents are all degree