Empty Vessels by Marina Pascoe Read Free Book Online Page B

atmosphere in the town. As usual at this time, people were beginning to think about Christmas and to make plans, but something was different this time – people appeared more subdued than they might otherwise be. But then, they knew that a killer might still be in their midst.
    Bartlett and Boase met up at the police station, and made their way from there to the railway just in time to catch the London train. They settled into their seats and prepared for the journey; both looked and felt a bit bleary-eyed on account of a later than usual night the previous evening, and an early morning – it was still only a quarter to seven. Boaseʼs landlady had been up even earlier and packed some food for him, as she had felt sure he didnʼt want to be ‘buying eatables from any Tom, Dick, or Harryʼ. After three or four minutes, as the train pulled out of the station, he opened up a small brown paper bag which he had pulled from his pocket and leaned forward to his superior who was sitting opposite.
    Ê»Hard-boiled egg, sir?ʼ
    Ê»No thank you. Havenʼt you had any breakfast?ʼ
    Ê»Didnʼt have time this morning, sir, overslept a bit.ʼ
    Bartlett sighed. Ê»You need a woman to do for you, thatʼs what you need, good cook, good company. Itʼs time you thought about settling down.ʼ The older man suddenly felt paternal.
    Ê»Maybe youʼre right, sir – pork pie?ʼ
    The train pulled into Truro station, where there was to be a fifteen-minute wait and a change. This change being quickly effected by the pair, Bartlett jumped quickly out again on to the platform and ran to buy a newspaper. Boase watched him from the compartment window and yawned. The sunshine was bright and the carriage was warm. The station was busy already and people rushed here and there, some getting on the train, some getting off. Others stood on the platform waiting. A train on the other line was being unloaded – there was milk and newspapers and, out from the guardʼs van jumped a dog exactly like Topper. People at this end of the country often bought dogs after seeing advertisements in the papers for them and, having sent their money, their chosen animal would travel from up-country by train.
    As Boase continued watching the activities, half asleep, he was startled to see William Gibbons running for all he was worth along the platform. He stood up looking through the cloudy glass, not believing his eyes as the man ran to the station exit and disappeared. Why, heʼd recently interviewed the same man about the murder of Ivy Williams, a man who could barely walk without the aid of a stick due to his war injuries. What was going on?
    As Boase sat back down, completely puzzled, the guard began to close the doors, and seeing him about to put his whistle to his already pursed lips, he panicked. Where was Bartlett? Boase didnʼt want to end up in London on his own; he hadnʼt even been there before. At that, the object of his worry bounded into view and the guard opened the door and pushed him in. Bartlett was panting as he readjusted his attire.
    Ê»Damned cheek, pulling my coat like that, I had plenty of time.ʼ
    Ê»I donʼt think so, sir.ʼ The younger man grinned at the sight of his superior looking so unusually dishevelled. Ê»Where were you?ʼ
    Ê»Damned ridiculous. I ran after a girl, could have sworn it was Norma Berryman. This case is taking it out of me, I donʼt mind admitting it, Boase. Weʼre going round in circles and weʼre running out of time – letʼs hope today comes up trumps.ʼ
    Ê»Running out of time, sir? Why?ʼ
    Ê»Think about it; weʼve got one girl dead, another one missing, possibly dead – God forbid. We canʼt afford another casualty. And, according to Greet, weʼll be the next casualties if we donʼt sort this mess out sharpish. We need to see if these two girls are linked in any way or if itʼs all just a horrible