fitted cord carpet covered the floor and a small
kitchen area in one corner was half hidden by a greasy curtain of uncertain design. There was no bathroom: presumably he had
to share.
Gerry Heffernan sat down on the grey-sheeted unmade bed which reminded Wesley of an unsavoury exhibit in an avant-garde art
exhibition – only this one was for real.
‘We just called to say thanks,’ began Heffernan cheerfully.
Craig stood there with his mouth open. He was an unprepossessing youth with lank, mousey hair and a bad complexion. Wesley
caught a whiff of body odour and found himself wondering whether he’d fancy eating a pizza handled by anybody so cavalier
with his personal hygiene.
‘What do you mean?’ Craig asked nervously after a few moments.
‘For the tip-off. The body you discovered in the caravan. We found it all right. Got it to the mortuary, did all the tests.
Did you know it was murder?’
Craig’s face froze in a mask of horror. ‘Murder?’ he squeaked.
‘Yeah. He was stabbed. Didn’t you see?’
‘I just saw there was a lot of blood … and he had no clothes on his top half. I sort of touched him, like. He was cold so
I knew he was dead. Look, it’s got nothing to do with me. I never done nothing,’ Craig pleaded, willing them to believe him.
‘So what were you doing there, Craig? Charity work? Bringing hot soup to the poor … or hot pizzas?’
‘Yeah.’ Craig seized on the suggestion as a way out. ‘That’s right. I were delivering a pizza. Got the wrong caravan.’
‘We can check, Craig,’ said Heffernan quietly. ‘Try again.’
‘Okay, Mr Heffernan, I’ll come clean. I were out looking for stuff. But I never found nothing.’ He looked at Wesley as if
pleading for back-up. ‘Honest. On my mother’s life I never took nothing. And I didn’t break and enter. That caravan door was
open … unlocked. I just opened the door and went inside and then I saw … well, you know what I saw. Look, I never done nothing.’
‘Okay, Craig. But you know we’ll have to question you down at the station, don’t you?’
Craig nodded, resigned to his fate. Although the person who finds a body is often the first suspect, somehow Wesley couldn’t
see the rather pathetic youth standing before him as a vicious killer, even though he sensed that there was something he was
trying to hide. But sometimes appearances could be deceptive.
Chapter 5
I find Sir Richard’s wife to be a handsome woman and amiable and so much younger in years than her husband.
One evening when her husband seemed to be in an ill humour she walked with me to the walled garden after we had taken supper.
As I admired the fine sundial in the middle of that fair garden, she seemed most agitated and I asked her what was the matter.
Then she told me of the things that she had heard in the house: most strange noises and apparitions. But the walled garden
she said was the most fearsome. She had felt such terror there that she was loath to go there alone even in the hours of daylight.
Naturally I took it upon myself to comfort the lady in the shell grotto to which she was not averse. I hear she is now with
child.
From Jacob Finsbury’s Account of His Travels around the Houses of England, 1703
Steve Carstairs considered that he was doing PC Paul Johnson a favour giving him a ride in his pride and joy. He parked the
red XR3i in front of the caravan site’s reception. There was no way he was risking his suspension on those muddy fields.
They walked up to the top field in silence as Steve made no effort to speak and Paul could think of nothing to say. Paul had
been wary ever since Steve had sneered at his passion for off-duty athletics, saying that he couldn’t see the point of spending
time on the running track: bedroom athletics were more Steve’s style, or so he claimed. And of course there were the remarks
he’d heard Steve make about Wesley, a man Paul had a lot of time for.
James S.A. Corey
Aer-ki Jyr
Chloe T Barlow
David Fuller
Alexander Kent
Salvatore Scibona
Janet Tronstad
Mindy L Klasky
Stefanie Graham
Will Peterson