Bill Hussey Through a Glass, Darkly (epub)

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.But soon it would be over.Soon the promise would be honoured.Then he would be whole and could keep his soul safe from judgement.He had to focus.The police were coming to question the last person to see Simon Malahyde.He went to the cabinet that reached across the back wall.He took out the Madonna figurine, stripped to a smooth nudity through years of handling, his good Bible and breviary, his rosary, vestments and soutane.Lastly, the crucifix complete with suffering martyr.After a moment’s contemplation, he replaced the cross on the wall.It was time to go to the cellar.To subdue the child.When the police had gone, Garret would have to go back downstairs and whittle away a little more of his soul.Afterwards, he would come back up into the house.Yet he sensed that a time was coming when he might never leave the cellar again.FiveDawn was forced to admit that, having pored over his belongings for nearly an hour, she still had little insight into who Simon Malahyde was.Toys that Jamie would love, a Scalextric set, action figures, the latest PS2 games, were set alongside CDs of seventies rock gods and a harlequinade of dolls housed in a miniature theatre.Then there were the books: the leather bound volume of Dr John Dee’s Liber Logaeth, or Book of Enoch, ‘offering the perfect truth of God through the language of angels’; the woodwork manuals and local history pamphlets; and the beautiful clockwork model of the solar system.Dawn gave Pluto a nudge, setting the orrery in motion, and wondered about the personality behind this varied collection of possessions.‘Dawn?’‘Look at this place,’ she began, turning towards Jack.‘Jesus, what’s wrong?’His face was expressionless and livid, like a Pierrot mask.‘Nothing.I … I’m fine.’ He glanced over the room.‘Kinda strange, all this.’She stared at him for a moment.‘Yeah, well, ‘kinda strange’ is your speciality, not mine, so what do you make of it?’A dumb look of hurt lengthened his face.Flustered, she said, ‘Anyway, I can’t figure it.I can just about believe that a seventeen-year-old boy might keep toys from his childhood stuffed at the back of a wardrobe, but some of this stuff’s brand new.And these books: De Lamiis Liber, ‘Book on Witches’ by Johann Weyer, taken from the original 1577 text.Strange bedtime reading, don’t you think? You know, you really don’t look well.I’ve got an aspirin …’‘I said I’m fine.’‘Okay … Look, I’ve just phoned Christopher Garret.Told him we’d be coming over.’The tip of a branch knocked against the bedroom window.Jack crossed the room and placed his palm against the glass, masking the tapping finger.His gaze fixed on the slowing solar system.‘So, are we going to turn this back to uniform?’ Dawn asked.‘If she was lying about new information?’‘No, it’s pretty quiet for us at the moment.It’ll probably be a short job; we’ll see it through … if you don’t mind?’‘No.We can’t avoid working together again, I suppose …’‘So, what did you think about mommie dearest’s little outburst?’ Jack asked.‘The whole wanting to see someone punished thing? Well, people never imagine that family members go missing of their own accord.If they did, it might mean looking close to home for the cause.It’s easier on the conscience to think they’ve been taken.But that stuff about punishment or … What was the word she used?’‘Penance.’‘Sounds religious, don’t you think? That was strange.’‘Have you found any notes? Letters? Does he have a computer?’‘No computer, no notes.I’ve been through all the drawers.No keepsakes, no photographs.Nothing with any scent of him on it, if you know what I mean.’‘Yes,’ Jack said, ‘there is no scent.’He placed a finger in Pluto’s path, causing the planets to come to an abrupt standstill.The kinetically powered sun pulsed a dull orange and died.Anne Malahyde was left with assurances that the detectives would be in touch soon.They reached the gate and Jack opened the padlock with a key Anne had given them.The rasp and clang of the batwing arms reverberated through the trees.The car doors slamming were like two gunshots in the stillness.Dawn knew that something was troubling him.She had not seen him this distracted and upset since their last night together.‘You sure you’re feeling okay?’‘Where does Christopher Garret live?’ he asked.Mulch and fern fronds slid from the windscreen as he turned the car in the drive.During the last days of her holiday, she had imagined this exact scenario.Thrown together on some case, her defences would falter.Despite her best efforts to hate him, she would find that she still cared.It was all panning out just as she had feared.Why the hell hadn’t she refused point blank to partner him? Stupid question.You can’t give the bastards an excuse to question your professionalism if you’re a woman in this game.Sure, things were getting better, but prejudice in the force was like herpes.It took a bit of self-examination to find it, then it could be treated, but it was surprising how often the problem flared up again.Yet that wasn’t the only reason why she wanted in on this case.She liked things to make sense.Jack Trent, and the way she still felt about him, made no sense whatsoever.During the two months they had dated, she hadn’t examined the Tortured Man of Mystery act with any real detachment.There was a chance, here and now, to strip away that act.She was certain to find that, as was the case with most single men, only loneliness and low-key desperation lived behind the façade.It would then be easy to dismiss him from her thoughts.There was just one problem with all that.Deep down, she didn’t believe that it was an act [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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