Deadly Virtues Read Online Free PDF Page B

officer.
    He was too old to need an appropriate adult, too fit to need a doctor, and he’d already asked for his solicitor. If his solicitor arrived, all would be well; if he didn’t, there was no reason to suppose that a message would reach anyone else, either.
    Or he could wake the man snoring gently on the other bunk and explain the situation. Get himself a witness.
    *   *   *
    Gabriel Ash woke to a gentle but insistent hand shaking his shoulder.
    In spite of what he’d told the police surgeon, he wasn’t all right. His head hurt and every bone in his body ached. His split lip and one cheekbone had swelled up, and there was an unpleasant buzzing in his ears. He had no medical background, but given the circumstances, concussion seemed—to coin a phrase—a bit of a no-brainer. He knew he should be in a hospital; he also knew he wasn’t going to a hospital, and not only because of Patience. If he went into a hospital, they might not settle for stitching his lip. He might be dealing with well-meaning young men called Simon for months.
    Sleep seemed the best alternative. He had laid his aching head on the bunk’s pillow, pulled the blanket over him, and let his eyes shut and his mind empty.
    He had no idea how much time had passed before he was wakened, except that it wasn’t enough to mend his hurts. You only know how many muscles it takes to sit up after each one has lodged a separate protest. Also, he was still dizzy and struggled to make his eyes focus. Patience was sitting quietly, watching him. He raked up a reassuring smile for her, which somehow—her lips never moved—she managed to return.
    They were no longer alone in the cell. A tall young black man was bending over him, his hand still on Ash’s shoulder. His lips were moving, but Ash could make no sense of the quiet, urgent flow of words. He held a hand up as if to deflect a blow, hoping it would work better this time than last. “Slow down. I’m not firing on all cylinders right now. Say it all again, in words of two syllables or less.” Even concussed, Gabriel Ash was an articulate man.
    Jerome was talking fast because he didn’t know how long he had, and quietly because he didn’t want to be overheard. But he was smart enough to recognize that what he managed to say wasn’t nearly as important as what his companion managed to understand. Jerome wondered if he’d be better talking to the dog.
    He might have been. Ash was doing his best, but it didn’t make any sense. He wasn’t sure it would have made sense if he hadn’t been concussed. Britain didn’t execute convicts any more, and when it had, it didn’t do it for traffic misdemeanors. “I’m sure you’ve got this wrong…” he began.
    “No, listen, ” insisted the young man. “This isn’t about the shunt with the car. It’s about getting me in here. Any excuse would have done. Now they’ve got me, they won’t let me go.”
    Ash was pretty sure you couldn’t get a life sentence for careless driving, either. Agitation, paranoia, the sheen of sweat on the young man’s face … “Have you taken something? Do you need to see a doctor?”
    Jerome would have slapped him if he hadn’t been afraid of scattering what was left of the man’s wits. “No! I think I’m going to die in here. And God help me, you are my only chance that it won’t be written off as an accident. Remember what I’m telling you. When you get out and I don’t, find someone to tell.”
    “But why…?”
    The shutter in the cell door opened and a face glanced in. Then the door opened. “Come on, Jerome, we’ve freed you up a comfy little bed-sit all of your own.”
    Whatever he’d been trying to say to Ash, he wasn’t prepared to say it in front of the policeman. He made one last desperate attempt to stay where he felt safe. “I like dogs.…”
    The officer remained where he was in the corridor, waiting patiently. “Mr. Ash and his dog aren’t actually supposed to be here. There’d be hell