Garden of Evil by Graham Masterton Read Free Book Online Page A

couldn’t imagine who would have wanted to move it, apart from Royston Denman. On the other hand, Royston Denman had given up complaining about it years ago, especially since these days he had become a climate-change fanatic and usually came to college by bicycle, wearing a streamlined helmet.
    Jim couldn’t imagine who would have wanted to
steal
it, either. A 1971 Mercury Marquis, in metallic green? Hardly a collector’s car. You could pick one up online for less than twenty-five hundred dollars.
    He was almost about to give up looking for it when he heard the low whistling noise of its 7.1-liter engine. Someone had moved it, but they were parked somewhere close by, as if they were patiently waiting for him to find them.
    He followed the sound of the engine until the car gradually took shape through the smog. It was parked at an angle close to the entrance to the parking lot, with exhaust smoke billowing out its tailpipe. Its passenger door was wide open. It reminded Jim of the folk story told by the Irish poet W.B. Yeats about the death coach that arrives outside your house when you are about to die, the
cóiste bodhar
, and waits outside with its door open to take you away, because it cannot return to the underworld empty.
    Jim approached his car warily. As he came nearer, he bent down so that he could see who was sitting in the driving seat. When he did, he immediately felt a crawling sensation all over his scalp, as if he had lice.
    It was the shadowy figure that he had almost run over, and which had appeared on his balcony. He was shocked to see it sitting there, but for some reason he felt less afraid of it now than he had been when he had seen it yesterday. It seemed more solid now, more definite, although its cloak still seemed to flow and ripple as if it were being blown by an unfelt wind, and its face was concealed by a deep, floppy hood. Its left hand was resting loosely on top of the steering wheel, covered by a gray suede glove. On top of the glove, on its wedding finger, it was wearing an elaborate silver ring, like a mass of intertwined snakes.
    â€˜
Where would you like me to take you, Mr Rook
?’ the figure asked him, in that reverberating voice. ‘
A man with your gift – he could go anyplace he chose
,
believe me
.’
    â€˜Who are you?’ Jim demanded. ‘What do you want? This is my car, Charlie, not yours. If I want to go anyplace, I’ll drive there myself, thanks.’
    â€˜
Aha – but you can never go to the places to which
I
can take you
,’ the shadowy figure replied. It turned its head slightly, and as it did so, Jim saw two glittering eyes inside the darkness of its hood.
    At that moment, Tibbles sprang on to his bedcover and he sat up in shock.
    He called Dr Ehrlichman’s secretary, Rosa, and asked her if college was going to be open today.
    â€˜Absolutely,’ she said. ‘You won’t be going back to your usual room, though, until the crime-scene people have finished with it, and it’s all been cleaned up and redecorated. We’ve relocated you to Art Studio Four, on the second floor.’
    â€˜Art Studio Four?
Art Studio Four
? That’s nothing but an expletive deleted storeroom.’
    â€˜I’m sorry. Dr Ehrlichman said to tell you that the college is oversubscribed this year and we don’t have any other classrooms free. By the way, you won’t miss his assembly this morning, will you?’
    â€˜Of course not.’
    â€˜You
will
miss it, Jim. I know you.’
    â€˜I’ll try my best, Rosa. But I’ve always been allergic to Dr Ehrlichman’s inspirational speeches. And his academic forecasts, too. They bring on my asthma, and I don’t even suffer from asthma. I can’t even predict what I’m going to have for lunch, let alone what grades my students are going to get a year from now.’
    â€˜Please try, Jim. It will make him so much happier.’
    â€˜Rosa – you