The Last Devil to Die (Thursday Murder Club, #4)

by Richard Osman

Christmas was like any other day for Stephen now. A blank page at the end of an old book.

the football chairman bought me a bracelet that I would describe as a nice thought.

“Do you know Donna arrested someone on Christmas Day?” Joyce tells Mervyn. “I didn’t know you could do that.” “What was it?” asks Ron. “Reindeer rustling?” “Soliciting a sexual act,” says Donna. “At Christmas,” says Joyce, shaking her head. “You’d think people would be too full.”

I texted “Happy New Year” to Joanna, and she texted back “HNY,” as if the effort of spelling out the words was a bit too much.

Any luck with the CCTV?” “Too early to tell,” says Chris. “Also none of your business. Choose whichever answer you prefer.”

I’m beginning to forget what I did before all the murders started happening. I remember I was going to learn to play bridge, but that’s gone on the back burner.

What does Pauline get from him apart from stubbornness? Though he’s only stubborn when he’s right, so that’s not about to change, no way, no sir.

“You are barely top ten,” says Ibrahim. “And, believe me, I have a top ten.”

“Here is the timeline,” he says, handing out laminated sheets. “I am beginning to think that I should start to distribute this sort of information digitally. Hard copies are very wasteful. I would like, if possible, the Thursday Murder Club to become carbon neutral by 2030.” “You could also stop laminating everything,” suggests Ron. “One step at a time, Ron,” says Ibrahim. “One step at a time.” He knows, in his heart, that Ron is right, but he doesn’t feel able to let go of his laminating machine. This must be how America feels about coal-fired power stations.

Ibrahim has stuck a Post-it note on both his printer and his laminator saying What would Greta Thunberg do?

The first squad car screeches through the gates. Quite why the need for screeching, Joyce doesn’t know. It’s a corpse. Two plainclothed officers run from the car. Again, why the running?

Elizabeth was very complimentary, and we agreed in future to leave the KGB to her, and local councils to me. Everyone has to have a specialty. For example, I asked Elizabeth how we were going to get into the lock-up without a key, and she laughed.

I asked Elizabeth if she thought we’d be invited to the wedding if Donna and Bogdan ever got married, and she said, “Can’t you concentrate on heroin for two seconds?”

He and Stephen had had their final game of chess a week ago. Not a game as such. Bogdan had offered to teach Stephen to play, and Stephen had accepted. “Always fancied giving this a go.”

The life she had with Stephen will always mean more to her than the life she will now have going forward. She will spend more time there, in that past, she knows that. And, as the world races forward, she will fall further and further back. There comes a point when you look at your photograph albums more often than you watch the news. When you opt out of time, and let it carry on doing its thing while you get on with yours. You simply stop dancing to the beat of the drum.

Joyce sees Ron, after taking a look at Bogdan, start to slip his jacket off. He will not be out-machoed.

“In Poland, Love Island is called Love Mountain,” says Bogdan. “And one time someone froze to death.”

“Is it true that Pauline puts marijuana in her brownies?” asks Joyce. “She does,” says Ron. “Marijuana and coconut.” “I wonder if I should try marijuana,” Joyce says. “It makes you very talkative,” says Ibrahim. “Oh, perhaps I shouldn’t, then,” says Joyce. “You barely get a word in as it is.”