The Echo by Minette Walters Read Free Book Online Page B

doctor said he'd died of natural causes, and the PC who answered my nine-nine-nine call claimed they'd all known it was only a matter of time before Billy Blake turned up as a bundle of rags somewhere. His words were: "The silly old sod has been committing slow suicide for years. People can't live the way he did and expect to survive."
    "Did you ask him what he meant by that?"
    "He said the only time Billy ate properly was when he was in prison. Otherwise he survived on a diet of alcohol."
    "Poor bastard," said Deacon, eyeing her glass. "I suppose life under anaesthetic was more bearable than life without."
    If she understood the personal import of his remark, she didn't show it. "Yes" was all she said.
    "You suggested Billy Blake wasn't his real name, but one he adopted four years ago when he was first arrested. So where did he get the money to buy the alcohol? He'd need to register to get welfare payments."
    She shook her head again. "I asked the old men in the warehouse about that, and they said he survived on charity rather than government handouts. He used to draw pavement paintings down on the Embankment near the river cruisers, and he earned enough from the tourists to pay for his drink. It was only in the winter when the sightseers dried up that he resorted to stealing and, if you look at his prison record, you'll find that all his stretches were done during the winter months."
    "It sounds as though he had his life pretty well organized. "
    "I agree."
    "What sort of things did he draw? Do you know?"
    "He did the same picture each time. From the way the men describe it, he drew the nativity scene. He also used to preach to the passersby about the damnation to come for all sinners."
    "Was he mentally ill?"
    "It sounds like it."
    "Did he use the same pitch each time?"
    "No. I gather he was moved on fairly regularly by the police."
    "But he only drew the one picture?"
    "I believe so."
    "Was it any good?"
    "The old men said it was. They described him as a real artist." Unexpectedly she laughed, and mischief brightened her eyes. "But they were drunk when I spoke to them, so I'm not sure how valid their artistic judgment is."
    The mischief vanished as quickly as it came, but once again Deacon fell prey to his fantasies. He persuaded himself that she was ignorant of real desire and that she needed an experienced man to release her passion ... "What else have you managed to find out?"
    "Nothing. I'm afraid that's it."
    He reached forward to switch off his tape recorder. "You said Billy's story needs to be told," he reminded her, "but everything you know about him will fit into two or three sentences. And if I'm honest I'd say he doesn't justify even that much space." He reflected for a moment, collating the information in his head. "He was an alcoholic and a petty criminal who lied about his age and used an alias. He was running away from someone or something, probably a wife and an unhappy marriage, and he descended into destitution because he was either inadequate or mentally ill. He had some ability as an artist, and he died in your garage because you live near the river and the door happened to be open." He watched his abandoned cigarette expire in a long curl of ash in the saucer. "Have I missed anything?"
    "Yes." The movement at the side of her mouth became suddenly more pronounced. "You haven't explained why he was starving himself to death or why he burnt his hands to claws."
    He made a gesture of apology. "That's what chronic alcoholics with severe depression do, Amanda. They drink instead of eating, which is why the pathologist included self-neglect as a cause of death, and they mutilate themselves as a way of externalizing their anguish about a life that holds no hope for them. I think your Billy was clinically ill and, because he drank to make himself feel better, he ended up dead in your garage."
    He could see from the resigned expression on her face that he hadn't told her anything she hadn't already worked out