The Death of the Elver Man by Jennie Finch Read Free Book Online Page B

alarmingly on one side and the brickwork surrounding the front door was crumbling away. One good shove, she thought, and the whole front would cave in. She tapped on the filthy glass, one eye on the porch balanced precariously over her head. There was no response and as she stepped back she noted there was no smoke from the chimney or light inside any of the rooms. She really ought to check the back, just in case, she thought, as the rain trickled down her neck, but the brambles and nettles crowding the old wooden gate off to the side decided her. The first call was made, there was no-one there and she could come back later when she was dressed for the task.
    Inside the house, standing back from the filthy windows , his eyes followed her every move. There was a tense moment when her car misfired, stuttering in the heavy rain, but finally she bumped and rolled her way out of sight and he felt himself relax. Turning to the hearth he considered lighting a fire, balancing his yearning for comfort against his need for secrecy, when the front door opened and it all became academic.
    ‘Hello Frank,’ said a familiar voice. ‘Fancy seeing you back here.’
    He turned to face his old neighbour, the person he least wanted to see in the whole world.
    ‘Derek, now look, let’s just sit down and talk about things, right?’
    Derek Johns shook his head as he reached behind him. ‘I don’t think there’s much to talk about d’you? You’re a grass, Frank Mallory. You got out by selling my lads to the police and now you think you can come back here and pick up where you left off, just like that. Not going to happen, boy. My youngest, he hung himself. You know ‘bout that? All on his own, locked up at night in the cells, they didn’t keep no eye on him like they’re meant to. By the time they found him he was gone. My Iris, she had to go identify him, look at him with his face all bruised and his eyes near popping out of his head. Do you know about that then Frankie-boy?’
    Frank backed away, his hands raised as if pleading. Derek pulled a knife from his pocket and moved towards him, slow, smooth steps like a cat stalking its prey.
    ‘So now your boy’ll know what it’s like. He’s in Bristol ain’t he? Nasty lock-up, Bristol. Reckon they might take to a little lad like Kevin – know what I mean?’
    Derek aimed a vicious blow, the knife ripping through Frank Mallory’s raised hand and into his soft stomach. Frank gasped, jerking on the knife as Derek twisted and pulled upwards, gutting him like a fish. Frank collapsed making low, keening sounds as his chest and throat filled with blood. Derek turned away and stared out of the window until thesounds stopped. Walking over to the hearth he aimed a final kick to the head.
    ‘Two down, three to go,’ muttered Derek as he rummaged through Frank’s pockets. Then he cleaned up the mess in the fireplace.
     
    Alex was spared having to face Lauren the next morning. Driving out to the Mallorys’ place she mused on her wasted trip the night before, but the sight of Ada Mallory dressed for visiting the prison shook her out of her sombre mood. Like a galleon in full sail, she swept down the muddy path resplendent in vivid pink polyester. The whole outfit, complete with matching gloves and hat, was only marred by her sensible brown boots. Alex opened the passenger door and helped to prod and tuck her into the front seat. Closing the door carefully she reflected the ensemble was likely to generate enough static electricity to constitute a fire hazard.
    ‘Have you got the visiting order?’ she asked, as she squeezed into the space left behind the wheel.
    Mrs Mallory opened her pink vinyl handbag and rummaged through it. There was a significant delay as she emptied most of the contents onto her lap before flourishing the brown envelope in triumph.
    Alex looked carefully at the array of objects as they were packed back into the bag.
    ‘Um, I don’t think you can take some of those in