Death & the City Book Two Read Online Free PDF Page A

'No' an awful lot. Based on the fact that I work where drunk men congregate, and I'm a woman standing in a corner going nowhere and meeting up with no-one in a big hurry. It's easier now to say 'No' than yes. 'No' means I don't even have to waste time wondering. Not having the experience means I don't have pattern-matches to infiltrate, and knowing that I'm going to say it to all drunk people regardless, means not even my curiosity is aroused.
    Connor always seems to know when I get stuck in this loop thinking about him, because he rings.
    "Whereabouts are you at the moment?" he asks.
    "Just parked outside my Mum's, I'm picking up Junior." I get out of the car and lock it.
    "Everything okay?"
    "Yeah, I guess," I reply. "Another strange car incident earlier. Suburban or urban anti-personnel project gone wrong, by the look of it."
    "Yeah, I heard from head office. They think it was the paintwork. Meant to be the same as yours, but too unstable, like nitro-glycerine. They think a herd of deer crossing ran into it while it was stationary, and the entire bodywork detonated. Slate grey is a stupid colour for a car. Should have made it yellow. With a big hazard light on the top."
    "Other than that, do you know if it was armed?"
    "There's a lot of metal down there but the scatter distribution means it does look as though it was loose rounds being transported, not a Jack-In-The-Box like yours." Connor heaves a sigh. "I've been stuck in the Forensics lab all day. They've put me on a professional development training schedule. Apparently they think I've got too much time on my hands, seeing as I manage to analyse CCTV and sound recordings for them in my spare time, to clear the backlog. Like you, being promoted to target research. Only in your case I guess it doesn't feel much like promotion. More like going backwards to what you were doing before door work."
    "A bit," I admit. "The technology's better now. Plus I feel as though I have more insight on what to look for, instead of just anything made up from whatever's on their washing-line, which was all I had to do most of the time. How are you finding it?"
    "Weird," says Connor. "I get the feeling they're trying to turn me into the guy who's life I'm leading at the moment. The one who's an industrial incident loss claims insurance investigator, on the Engineering Forensics side in his real job, when he's not pretending to be a bin man in Oz. Speaking of whom, I got some stuff forwarded to me in the mail from him. I need to show you some of it. Part of your side of the bargain in the wingman deal. Would you be free if I pick you up after you finish work, or do you need to get home?"
    "No, that would be okay," I agree, glad that he's asking appropriately. "I'll see you then."
    "Cool," he says. "I would have stopped by at work tonight anyway, but I wanted to ring and catch up as well, so I thought I'd check it was okay first. See you later."
    I feel a lot better as we disconnect, and I head towards the house. Conversation with him feels as though it's getting easier as time passes. More normal. As if we could be anyone, almost. To some romantics - or romance adrenaline junkies – I expect this is the bit they start to worry where 'the spark' has gone, the bit where you picked on and teased and bullied each other, and made each other half miserable and half excited all the time over the mystery of what would happen next. But I've never been a fan of 'the spark' because it just reminds me of school bullying, and feels like abuse, allowing a stranger to mistreat you in order to let them through your defences and get under your skin. That's the reason defences are there. To keep out abusers. Not to be merely selective about who you allow to abuse you.
    I'm realising that the comfortable bit, the secure feeling I'm starting to get glimpses of - particularly like just now when it comes after I've been worrying myself about him - is the better side of it. The more romantic side of it as far as