Candles and Roses by Alex Walters Read Free Book Online

she’d just buggered off as well.’
    ‘Yes, but they—’
    ‘I know. They know nothing. But it is their job.’
    They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the afternoon sunshine, the breeze blowing in from the sea, the relentless chorus of the gulls. They were both conscious that this was a golden time—the brief few months with Highers out of the way and university still to come. They wanted to make the most of it, even if that involved little more than drinking Coke in the garden of an old pub. Greg was working part-time for his dad over the summer, and Kelly was helping out in the store in Cromarty, so they had a few quid to spend. Finally Kelly said: ‘But adults don’t do that. They don’t just run away.’
    ‘Yes, they do. I’ve got a cousin, or a second-cousin or something. His wife just pushed off one day, left him with a baby. I’ve heard my dad talk about it.’
    ‘I suppose.’ She watched a cluster of gulls squabbling over some titbit. The garden was tucked away at the side of the old pub building and provided a comfortable sun-trap at the right time of day. There’d been another couple enjoying lunch out here earlier, but now Kelly and Greg were alone. ‘But adults get murdered sometimes too.’
    ‘Give it a rest, eh, Kelly? She wasn’t murdered.’
    ‘How do you know?’ She paused, thinking. ‘What about Denny Gorman?’
    ‘Who’s Denny Gorman? Another “murder victim”?’ The quote-marks were clearly audible.
    ‘No, you numpty. The landlord at the Caledonian. He’s a creep.’
    ‘Is he? I don’t know him.’
    ‘Well, he looks like one. You know the guy. Greasy hair. Comb-over. Stubble. Always looks like he’s slept in his clothes.’
    ‘I’ve never been in the Caley. If we go up that way, we go to the Anderson or the Union.’
    ‘You’ll have seen him around, though. Shambling through the town. He’s an old lech.’
    ‘Is he?’
    ‘I reckon so. I’ve seen him eyeing up the girls in the Co-op.’
    ‘That proves it then. He must be a murderer.’ Greg finally finished off his Coke. ‘Another? I’ve just about got enough on me.’
    ‘Let’s go for a walk instead. Makes you think, though, doesn’t it?’
    ‘What does?’
    ‘Well, finding that body. If we hadn’t stumbled along there, it might have stayed hidden.’
    ‘The roses were pretty conspicuous.’
    ‘For a while. But I don’t imagine many people go wandering into those woods. If we hadn’t found it when we did, that body might never have been discovered.’
    ‘Well done us, then.’ Greg was zipping up his rucksack. They’d brought down a couple of books to read on the beach and a towel in case they decided to go into the water. ‘Shall we head down to the sea?’
    ‘Yeah, why not?’ She rose to follow him. ‘But that’s not what I meant. I meant that there might be others. Other bodies buried that have never been discovered. Lizzie Hamilton might be one of them.’
    ‘Kelly—’
    ‘I’m just saying. She could still be out there somewhere. Undiscovered. Up in Fairy Glen. Or by the burn up there behind us—’
    ‘Kelly, just give it a rest. OK.’
    The sharpness of his tone took her by surprise. It suddenly struck her how much this had affected them both. Much more, she thought, than either had been able, or had wanted, to articulate. She was coping by blethering on about murders and missing persons and shallow graves. Greg was coping by trying to forget it all.
    ‘Sorry, Greg,’ she said, after a pause. ‘Just ignore me. You know what I’m like.’
    ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘You’re grand. I’m just a bit distracted, that’s all.’
    ‘I know,’ she said. ‘Come on. Let’s go for a paddle.’
     

CHAPTER EIGHT
    McKay took a breath and glanced at Horton. ‘Here we go then.’ He leaned forward and pressed the bell.
    For a few minutes there was no sign of life from within the bungalow. He was about to press the bell a second time when he caught a glimpse of movement through the