Whispers of the Dead by Simon Beckett Read Free Book Online Page A

to conceal their crimes, hiding their victims' bodies
rather than leaving them on display. This smacked of a very different
sort of killer, with a very different agenda.
'And the rest?'
'I don't know. I'm sure Irving's good at what he does, but. . .' I
gave a shrug. 'Well, I thought he was too eager to jump to
conclusions. It seemed to me like he was seeing -what he wanted
to rather than what was actually there.'
'People who don't understand what we do might think the same
about us.'
'At least what we do is based on hard evidence. Irving seemed to
me to be speculating an awful lot.'
'Are you saying you never listen to your instincts?'
'I might listen, but I wouldn't let them get in the way of the facts.
Neither would you.'
He smiled. 'I seem to recall that we've had this discussion before.
And no, of course I'm not saying we should rely on instinct too
much. But used judiciously it's another tool at our disposal. The
brain's a mysterious organ; sometimes it makes connections we're not
consciously aware of. You've got good instincts, David. You should
learn to trust them more.'
After my blunder in the cabin that was the last thing I wanted to
do. But I wasn't going to let this turn into a discussion about me.
'Irving's whole approach was subjective. He seemed too keen for the
killer to be a repressed homosexual, something nice and sensational.
I got the impression he was already planning his next paper.'
Tom gave a laugh. 'More likely his next book. He made the
bestseller charts a couple of years ago, and since then he's been a
head for hire for any TV company that'll pay his fees. The man's
a shameless self-promoter, but in fairness he has had some good
results.'
'And I bet they're the only ones anyone hears about.'
Tom's glasses caught the reflection from the headlights as he gave
me a sideways glance. 'You sound very cynical these days.'
'I'm just tired. Don't pay any attention.'
Tom turned back to the road. I could almost feel the question coming. 'This is none of my business, but what happened with the
girl you were seeing? Jenny, wasn't it? I haven't wanted to mention it
before, but. . .'
'It's over.'
The words seemed to have an awful finality to them, one that still
didn't seem to apply to me and Jenny.
'Because of what happened to you?'
'That was part of it.' That and other things. Because you put your work first. Because you were nearly killed. Because she didn't want to sit at
home any more, wondering if it was going to happen again.
'I'm sorry,' Tom said.
I nodded, staring dead ahead. So am I.
The indicator clicked as he turned off on to another road. This one
seemed even darker than the last.
'So how long have you had a heart problem?' I asked.
Tom said nothing for a second, then gave a snort.'I keep forgetting
about that damn medical background of yours.'
'What is it, angina?'
'So they say. But I'm fine, it's not serious.'
It had looked serious enough to me that afternoon. I thought
about all the other times I'd seen him having to stop to catch his
breath since I'd arrived. I should have realized sooner. If I hadn't been
so wrapped up in my own problems perhaps I would.
'You should be taking it easy, not trekking up hillsides,' I told him.
'I'm not about to start babying myself,' he said irritably. 'I'm on
medication, it's under control.'
I didn't believe him, but I knew when to back off. We drove in
silence for a while, both of us aware of things left unsaid. The inside
of the station wagon was lit up as another car came up behind us, its
headlights dazzlingly bright.
'So how do you feel about lending me a hand with the examination
tomorrow?'Tom asked.
The body was going to be taken to the morgue at UT Medical
Center in Knoxville. As a visual ID was out of the question, trying
to identify the body was a priority. The Forensic Anthropology
Center had its own lab facilities - bizarrely based at Neyland sports
stadium in Knoxville -- but they were