Blood Is Dirt Read Online Free PDF Page B

asked Heike.
    â€˜Worse. Someone who was right bang next to me.’
    â€˜Jesus,’ she said, as sympathetically as possible. ‘They beamed him up?’
    â€˜As if, Heike, as if. And who’s “they”, anyway?’
    She shrugged and concentrated on fitting a cigarette into her holder.
    â€˜I drank your share of the wine,’ she said, lighting up.
    â€˜I saw.’
    â€˜I started on your birthday present too.’
    â€˜The Black Label? Yeah, thanks. I mean for the present.’
    â€˜Don’t mention it. How’s the foot?’
    â€˜It’s OK. I haven’t thought about it.’
    â€˜In the heat of the moment?’ ‘Right.’
    â€˜Too scared?’
    â€˜Maybe.’
    She sighed. A birthday treat. Most other times she’d have hardened up, cool as marble, no give at all until the whisky loosened off her throwing arm. Heike didn’t like my job, but it
had
nearly got her killed one time which was why she’d put me out to that kennel down the road. She kneaded my shoulder and turned me round. We kissed. My hand went up her bare back. She didn’t bother with a bra after her evening shower. I cupped a breast and ran a thumb over the nipple. She tensed and backed off.
    â€˜Eat first. Shower. Then I’ve got another present for you. Two, in fact.’
    I finished off the tagine. Heike and I shared the second bottle of Bourgogne Aligoté. I was about to join my Black Label but Heike pushed me off to the shower. I cleaned up and sat on the sofa in a towel. Heike dropped some ice into my glass and splashed another finger over the top.
    â€˜Birthday treats,’ I said.
    She shrugged her eyebrows and sat behind her knees in a corner of the sofa. She sipped her Scotch and smoked at me.
    â€˜What about these presents then?’
    â€˜Gerhard wants to meet you,’ she said.
    â€˜Who’s Gerhard?’
    â€˜Bruce,’ she said, her voice taking on a serrated edge. I raised an eyebrow. She reined back. ‘Gerhard Lehrner. He’s my boss. The new one.’
    â€˜That
Gerhard. Right. The new one. I’m not used to hearing his name.’
    â€˜How many Gerhards...?’ She stopped herself. ‘Forget it.’
    â€˜Come here,’ I said, lunging at her.
    â€˜Not yet,’ she said, inching her feet back. ‘Gerhard’s going to stay in the office tomorrow afternoon. He wants to talk to you about a job when there’s nobody else around,’ she said. The glass of Black Label stuck to my lips. I sat up straighter and looked her in the eye. No kidding.
    â€˜You’ve been telling him about my charitable soul,’ I said. ‘How long did it take?’ She smiled. I stroked her big toenail. She twitched it away.
    â€˜I didn’t tell him about your charitable soul, in fact. I told him what a complete bastard you are. And you know, he’s interested.’
    â€˜He’s got some poor people need kicking?’
    She laughed this time. Appealed to her, that, a man with gout kicking a poor person. The suffering.
    â€˜He’s got a job for Medway and Bagado Investigations. He’s looking for someone who can’t be fobbed off, who doesn’t have the word “no” in their language, who will run something to ground and go down the hole after it and...’
    â€˜Above all, someone who’s...’
    â€˜Cheap.’
    â€˜Thanks for the write-up,’ I said, and took a measure off the Scotch.
    â€˜He tells me it could be dangerous. So you better listen to what he has to say before you say yes.’
    â€˜Well, there’s never been any harm in listening.’
    â€˜Then why don’t you do it to me?’
    Our eyes connected. Our whisky glasses hit the table together. She stretched a foot out and undid my towel with her toes. She kicked it away and toyed with what she found underneath until I was gritting my teeth. She sat astride me, yanking her skirt up