Free The Rule Book by Rob Kitchin Page A

dirty blankets, her back wedged into the corner facing the door, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her thin face was drained of colour, strands of her long, black hair hung across it, her eyes downcast looking at his shadow. She was wearing a purple vest and grey jogging pants. Her arms were bare and she was shivering. Even in the poor light, McEvoy could see the tracks and bruising along the inside of her arms.
    ‘I don’t have it,’ she muttered, barely audible.
    ‘You don’t have what?’ McEvoy asked.
    ‘I don’t have your fuckin’ money,’ she hissed. ‘I’ll owe you. I’ll do whatever you want, but you’ve got to give me some. You’ve got to.’
    ‘I need to know about Laura.’
    ‘What?’ She looked up. ‘Who the fuck are you?’ she asked, her voice changing tone.
    ‘Detective Superintendent Colm McEvoy. You’re Karen?’
    ‘What d’ya want?’ she replied, ignoring his question, her body language becoming both anxious and defiant at the same time.
    ‘I need to know about Laura,’ he repeated.
    ‘I don’t know a Laura.’ She drew her knees tighter to her body, lowering her eyes again.
    ‘That’s not what I’ve heard. We found Laura’s body yesterday morning. Someone had rammed a sword through her head.’
    Karen flicked her eyes up at him and then closed them. ‘I told you, I don’t know a Laura.’
    ‘We need to catch him, Karen. He’s going to kill again.’
    ‘Go fuck yourself,’ she murmured.
    ‘I know you knew her, Karen. She thought you were her friend.’ McEvoy threw a cigarette onto the bedding.
    She grabbed at it, digging a lighter from between the folds in the blanket. She lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply.
    ‘Tell me about Laura,’ McEvoy asked evenly.
    Karen stayed silent, letting the smoke trail from her nostrils.
    ‘Karen?’ McEvoy prompted.
    ‘Like what?’ she answered sharply.
    ‘What was she like?’
    Karen shrugged. ‘She kept herself to herself.’
    ‘But you were friends?’ McEvoy pressed.
    ‘I hardly knew her. Nobody did.’
    ‘Where was she living? She must have been sleeping somewhere. Here?’
    ‘No, no. She wouldn’t come here. Didn’t trust the others. She was a loner.’
    ‘So where?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘Come on Karen, where?’ McEvoy said, frustration in his voice.
    ‘I don’t know,’ she spat. ‘She never told me; didn’t tell me anything.’ She sucked greedily on the cigarette.
    ‘On the street? In a hideaway? Another squat? On a derelict site?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ she hissed. ‘I told you, I hardly knew her.’
    ‘Well, who did? Did she hang around with anyone? Did you see her with anyone else?’
    ‘No. She was always on her own. I never saw her with nobody. I need to go.’
    ‘Did she talk about anybody?’ McEvoy continued. ‘She talk about any friends?’
    ‘I told you, she didn’t say anything. She was just some lost kid.’
    ‘How about drugs?’ McEvoy pressed. ‘She take them?’
    ‘Never saw her. She just used to sup her vodka or gin. She could sink a bottle, no problem. She fuckin’ loved the stuff.’
    ‘Where’d she get the money for that?’
    ‘Begging. She used to hang round Connolly Station or sometimes O’Connell Street . Just sat on the pavement holding out a cup.’ She shifted her body. ‘That’s all she did. Just fuckin’ sat there.’
    ‘She do anything else, maybe a bit of prostitution?’
    Karen stayed silent, drawing on the cigarette.
    ‘Karen?’ McEvoy pressed again.
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘But she might have done?’
    ‘You’d have to ask her.’ Karen crossed her arms and hugged herself. ‘I ain’t her keeper.’
    ‘I would, Karen, but she’s dead. Someone put a sword through her head,’ McEvoy said matter-of-fact.
    Karen didn’t respond, trying to look strong, but appearing more like a petulant child. She sucked in another lungful of smoke and stared at the blanket.
    McEvoy pushed himself off the windowsill and headed for the door. ‘I hope you’re