Don’t Trust Me: The best psychological thriller debut you will read in 2018. Joss Stirling

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ a methodology of highlighting and footnoting that only I seem to be able to understand.

      ‘He didn’t need these. I typed up my findings in the computer records. This is just the background stuff.’

      Drew knuckles my forehead lightly. ‘You are so analogue, Jess, actually writing things down.’

      ‘But it’s a good thing I do, as I can reconstruct most of what I found out from here.’

      Two police officers turn into the street and approach us at a leisurely pace. Drew begins furtively resealing the bin bags.

      ‘Everything all right?’ asks one, a twenty-something blonde with her hair tied back in a no-nonsense ponytail.

      I show her my mug collection. ‘Yes, just looking for my things. Got chucked out by my old landlord.’

      ‘Good luck with that.’ As I predicted, the officers aren’t that interested in people stealing from bins. ‘Try not to make a mess.’ They walk on.

      Drew sits back on his heels. ‘You weren’t the least bit worried, were you? Why am I the one to feel instantly panicked when confronted by anyone in uniform?’

      ‘Guilty conscience?’ I’ve been moved on for far worse than ferreting through stuff that no one wants. This is nothing.

      We stack the sacks more or less how we found them.

      Drew sniffs his fingers then grimaces. ‘I need to wash my hands before I touch the scooter.’

      Carlo’s will be closed but there’s a pub on Bateman Street, a short walk from here. ‘I know a place – and I’ll even buy you a drink for being such a star.’

      ‘I would ruffle your hair and say “what are friends for?” but that, at the moment, would just be gross.’

      ‘Thank you for restraining yourself.’

      We sit across from each other in a quiet corner of the Dog and Duck. It’s cramped inside, combining eatery and bar with all the polished wood and colourful tiles such a small space can embrace. I find it strangely reassuring. Drew sips on his half while I indulge in a Bloody Mary, needing the kick of fiery Worcester sauce to drive off the taste of rubbish. It feels the right kind of retro drink to have in such an antiquated place.

      ‘So what are you going to do now?’ asks Drew. He flicks through one of my notebooks. ‘You’ve done so much work on these girls. You’re not going to give up, are you?’

      ‘I don’t know. I don’t understand right now. What was Jacob doing investigating them in the first place?’

      Drew scans the other people in the bar, fairly quiet on this Monday night, a couple of office workers, some tourists in optimistic shorts, a gaggle of student types looking effortlessly young. That’s what I notice but I wonder what he sees when he looks at people? Coffin sizes? God, that’s macabre. He’s not like that. His job makes him celebrate life; I’m the one with the Gothic imagination.

      ‘Jess, if he was asked to do that by family or friends, then they might have another way of contacting him. He’ll want to be paid.’

      ‘Don’t we all?’ I wonder how it would go, trying to contact some of the nearest and dearest to the missing. I cringe at the thought.

      ‘I suppose there’s another possibility.’

      ‘What’s that?’

      ‘He’s insane, obsessed by these cases for no particular reason, living out some kind of fantasy where he’s the intrepid detective and you’re his Dr Watson.’

      I don’t like to leap so quickly to the accusation that Jacob was living in a world of his own invention; that has come my way too before and I know how difficult it is to wriggle out from under such an allegation. ‘Surely I should’ve sensed if he were delusional? He appeared perfectly rational to me.’

      Drew just smiles. ‘You, my friend, are easy to fool because you are so nice. Me, I’m a little nastier, and I suspect everyone.’

      ‘You’re not nasty.’

      ‘Oh, I am. But you don’t see it. I have motives within motives.’ He reaches out and takes my hand where it is loosely looped around the base of my glass. ‘It’s not anyone I’ll go through bins for.’

      I let my hand stay in his. Right now, I just need the comfort that someone finds me the least bit necessary to them.

      ‘It’s too soon, isn’t it?’ Drew brushes my fingers with his.

      ‘Too soon for what?’

      ‘You and me.’

      Major gaydar malfunction. ‘Drew, are you saying … oh my God, you are, aren’t you?’

      He gives me a funny look. ‘Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for. Polite refusal, yes; incredulity, no.’

      ‘I thought you were like my gay best friend.’

      He moves back. ‘You thought I was homosexual?’

      ‘Or maybe bipossible. Oh shit, I’ve made a hash of this, haven’t I?’ I’m blushing worse than when I was thirteen and asked the out-of-my-league boy to a party.

      Drew gives a grimace. ‘Or maybe the hash is mine?’

      ‘No, no, it’s my fault. I just assumed… kind of built a picture of you based on…’ I tail off. What had I based it on? The fact that he made me feel at ease. That is all, really. I’ve made a fantasy role for him and moulded him into it in my ridiculous mind.

      ‘I thought you knew me better than that.’

      ‘I’m sorry.’

      ‘God, this is embarrassing. Bit of a dent to the old ego.’ He sips his drink.

      ‘No, no, it’s not you, it’s me.’

      He laughs at my joke, which is also the truth. ‘Jess, you are something else.’

      I shrug. ‘I’m so sorry for being dense. And I want you to take a long hard look at me. I’m this.’ I gesture to my own hopelessness.

      ‘That’s fine by me. You need to get away from that dickhead Michael. He’s destroying you, you know that, don’t you?’

      I didn’t really. There were times when I thought he’d been saving me. ‘I can’t blame him, Drew. He’s tried his best. People do, and I still mess things up.’ I gaze out at the street. A girl in a brief black skirt and off-the-shoulder blouse is coaxing a guy into an alley with the practised moves of a pro. He looks furtive but follows. I shudder. There is so much that Drew does not know.

      He squeezes my hand and lets go. ‘I get it. This is a process. You need to make the break, then we’ll talk.’

      ‘Now that I know you’re not gay.’

      He manages to laugh. ‘Yeah, that’ll help my case. Speak to him when he gets back. Not because of me but СКАЧАТЬ