Nor Will He Sleep by David Ashton Read Free Book Online Page B

father’s bible I have no doubt,’ he said gravely. ‘The spine had weakened.’
    ‘Was the page clutched in her poor hand?’ asked the minister.
    ‘Not quite,’ answered McLevy, who had a sudden flash of the open mouth and his own hooked, inserted fingers.
    All four of them looked down at the stone floor as if the body had been transported there.
    Agnes Carnegie’s presence lay before them and each saw a different spectral version of the crumpled corpse.
    In McLevy’s mind, she looked up accusingly, her mouth still gaping from his horny-handed intrusion and her voice rasped out.
    I wait tae be avenged. I demand it. Whit kind o’ Thieftaker are you? Where is my vengeance? Sappie-heid!
    ‘The Lord gives, the Lord taketh away,’ the elder Gibbons intoned.
    ‘And the police have to aye be finding the solution,’ the inspector muttered. ‘We’d be obliged if you might provide us with the woman’s address – ’
    ‘Wait!’
    Gibbons held up his hand as if struck like Moses on the mountain.
    ‘Were not the students by the harbour last night?’
    ‘A known fact, sir,’ Mulholland replied tersely.
    ‘Could not their wild and immoral behaviour have led to this unfortunate pass? Striking down the godly in their jealous frenzy? Satan knows no bounds!’
    ‘That is true, father,’ said John quietly. ‘But there is perhaps a distance between wild behaviour and the taking of a life.’
    He looked McLevy straight in the eyes, an unusual act for a member of the public in the presence of a policeman, and nodded.
    ‘I will fetch the address from our records.’
    As John moved off his father smiled proudly.
    ‘A good boy,’ he announced. ‘Fruit of my loins.’
    Trust you tae take a’ the credit,
thought McLevy somewhat unkindly. It was to the minister’s good name that he toiled hard amongst the poor in the extremities of the city,
but he had, to McLevy’s thinking, the fault inherent in most men of God.
    What was it Mulholland’s Aunt Katy would say?
    Once you think you’ve got the inside track, there’s no gettin’ past you.
    The constable’s consideration, however, had shifted once more towards the accuracy of the blows meted out to the pitiful Agnes. What kind of mind would produce exaction of such
violence?
    Was it purely accidental or had she somehow provoked the attack?
    If accidental, the investigation would be a long haul but if not? The blows, the insertion, might well betoken an amoral, cold and calculating mind.
    From which direction?
    Another long haul.
    He looked around this church where everything seemed to have its place.
    ‘God and Satan – a similar precision,’ said McLevy aside, as if he had somehow read Mulholland’s thoughts.
    A side door opened and three women came through with blameless tread. In the lead was a frail birdlike creature and it was to her that Gibbons directed a heartfelt cry.
    ‘Martha – a most terrible happening!’
    He moved swiftly over to the three, spoke softly, raised his hands as cries of outrage and fear came in response, and then bowed his head.
    The women fell to their knees before him as if stunned, Gibbons clasped his hands together and the sound of prayers arose like bees buzzing around one of Mulholland’s hives.
    John, who had returned with a slip of paper, took one glance at the scene, another at the police, then also fell dutifully to his knees and prayed for the departed soul.
    McLevy and Mulholland stood there.
    It was too far down for the constable, and the inspector lacked the inclination.
    They also serve who only stand and wait.

Chapter 8
    Ah, Raleigh! you can afford to confess yourself less than some, for you are greater than all. Go on, and conquer noble heart! But as for me, I sow the wind and I suppose
     I shall reap the whirlwind.
    Charles Kingsley,
Westward Ho!
    Stevenson watched the backs of the two figures as they moved along Heriot Row, and regretted he had been unable to glimpse the faces.
    One, like a beanpole, was crowned