Free The Thing Itself by Peter Guttridge Page B

arse?’ Laker said.
    â€˜I’m sorry—?’ she said and then, presumably just realizing what he had said, began to close the door.
    Laker stepped forward and pushed the door open.
    â€˜You sound like you’ve got a poker up your arse.’ He walked past her into the house, pulling her with him by her arm. ‘And who knows – before the end of the morning you might have.’
    She tried to pull back, clutching at her necklace. He back-heeled the door closed.
    â€˜Who are you?’
    Laker released her arm and touched the scar on his lip.
    â€˜Oh, I think you know. Willy home, is he? Willy Simpson?’
    William Simpson was wearing a well-cut charcoal suit and sitting with a pretty young man at a table in the centre of the upstairs bar. He was running his hand through his hair in an affected manner when Watts walked up beside him.
    â€˜William.’
    Simpson looked up.
    â€˜Bob. Not exactly a pleasure. How did you—?’
    â€˜Find you? Circumvent your security? Doesn’t matter.’
    The truth was, he’d lied to Simpson’s secretary who had then told him readily enough where William might be found at lunchtime.
    â€˜I’m rather busy at the moment.’
    Watts smiled at the young man sitting across from William Simpson.
    â€˜Please excuse us.’
    The young man looked from Watts to Simpson. Simpson nodded. The young man huffed away. Watts took his seat.
    â€˜You’re getting less discreet,’ Watts said.
    â€˜Say a word and you’re dead.’
    Watts smiled.
    â€˜I recognize that as a valid threat, coming from you.’
    â€˜What do you want?’
    Watts appraised his former friend. He looked for any sign of his father in him.
    â€˜We have so much to talk about,’ he said. ‘So much.’
    â€˜Funny. I had exactly the opposite notion.’
    â€˜Let’s start with your daughter, Kate.’
    Simpson waved his hand.
    â€˜It’s terrible what has happened.’
    â€˜Yes, it is. And it’s your fault. It means you owe her.’
    â€˜Owe her?’
    Watts nodded.
    â€˜And I’m here to collect.’
    â€˜You?’ Simpson sneered. ‘What business is it of yours? You have no link to her, except maybe the girlish crush she must have on you.’
    Watts said nothing.

EIGHTEEN
    â€˜I wonder if you’re worth fucking?’ Laker said to William Simpson’s wife. She was sitting on the edge of a sofa, her knees pressed tight together. ‘Hard to tell sometimes. You’re a bony cunt, aren’t you? But the scrawny ones are sometimes the most fun. You got kids?’
    â€˜One,’ she said, crossing her arms across her breasts.
    â€˜Oh, of course – Kate. And I don’t know why I ask about the kids really as I was assuming I’d be using the tradesman’s entrance. Has that had much use? Aside from the usual function, of course.’
    She hugged herself.
    â€˜No? Can’t say the same for your husband’s. I must say, he’s egalitarian when it comes to sex with his boys. Sometimes he’s up them, sometimes they’re up him. Very equal opportunities.’
    â€˜How do you know my husband?’ she whispered.
    â€˜Ah, now that’s a long and not particularly edifying story. Suffice it to say that I do. Your daughter too. Well, kind of. Heard she had a lucky escape the other day.’
    Laker stood and she shrank back on the sofa, a moan escaping her lips.
    â€˜Trust me, darling – you’ll have the time of your tight-arsed life. Although you might be – how shall I say this? – changed when I’m done with you. If I’m done with you. Who knows? I might put you to work to pay off Willy’s debt. You’re getting on, it’s true, but some men get a kick out of doing snooty cows like you. At a stretch I could get a year out of you before you need diapers.’
    She moaned again.
    â€˜What do you want to